From the beginning, Bob had been angry, and his captors laughed as he forcefully demanded his release. He had felt discouraged, especially at night, as he suffered the discomfort of his cell. On occasion, panic had set in as he wondered what the future held. This morning, however, his mind was clear. It was early on the fourth day of his captivity and he pondered his situation as the first daylight began to filter through the leaves.
The Sollisites meant to keep him alive, at least for awhile. They fed him twice a day. As long as that continued, he would have strength to escape and that is what he plotted. He would watch and plan and when the opportunity presented itself, he would run.
In his mind, Bob reviewed the camp's daily routine. The two cooks were always up first, coaxing the fire back to life and fetching water from an unseen source. Not long after the cooks arose, the sentries rotated, usually six at a time. Those coming off duty generally spent some time chatting at the fire. Bob had strained to listen to those conversation, trying to understand individual words.
Bob watched as the cooks appeared and began their preparations for the day. They stooped at the fire and beams of light suddenly raced out of the jungle, striking them both with explosive results. As the cooks fell to the ground, additional beams appeared, flying through the camp, detonating tents, trees and men.
A chorus of shouts rang out as a large group of intruders burst into camp firing handheld weapons. Throwing himself to the ground, Bob attempted to make himself as small a target as possible while the trees above him erupted into fireballs. In a matter of minutes, the newcomers had completely routed the camp. The earthman's captors were all dead, dying or fleeing through the underbrush.
Raising his head, Bob surveyed the carnage, watching helmeted, armor-clad attackers methodically combing through the smoldering ruins of the camp, carrying off wounded survivors. The earthman slowly stood up as one of them approached his enclosure. The man gripped a weapon in his right hand. With his left he reached through the bars of the cell and handed a mnibit to Bob, who carefully set it on his head.
"Ally?" he mentally queried.
"Yes, Boss?" Ally responded.
"Glad you are back," Bob thought.
"Who are you?" demanded the soldier facing him.
"I'm Bob."
"Are you a prisoner here?"
"Yes."
"Stand back," the attacker ordered.
Raising his weapon, the newcomer fired at the cell door, destroying the lock.
"Come with me," he commanded.
Opening the door, Bob followed the armed man through the wreckage to the other side of camp where several of the attackers were gathered around a large metallic disk on the ground. As they approached, Bob's rescuer addressed the others in a language Bob didn't understand.
"Ally," Bob formed a question in his mind. "Who are these guys?"
"They appear to be IA soldiers. Try to get a better look at their insignia."
"IA?"
"Interdimensional Alliance."
"Why can't I understand what they are saying?"
"I'm not authorized to interpret Thingelli."
Pondering Ally's response, Bob watched as another of the soldiers approached. The newcomer wasn't wearing a helmet and Bob was surprised that he appeared human.
"Drink this," the man said, handing a small bottle to Bob.
At Bob's skeptical look, the soldier continued, "It's b'nak. We're going to teleport."
"Do I have a choice?" Bob asked.
"Not really," the other man replied, shifting his weapon.
"Where are we going?" Bob asked.
"Back to command. We have some questions for you. Now drink up."
Bob slowly consumed the liquid. It seemed like b'nak. The other man motioned with his weapon, indicating Bob should step onto the metallic disk. Bob complied and the soldier followed as the earthman walked to the center of the circle. After a brief pause, Bob felt a touch light-headed and he and the soldier left the surface of Sollis.
Copyright (C) 2017 Winslow Williams. All rights reserved.
