ARENA OF THE BLOOD MOON
PART FOUR
Once safely inside the airlocks, the guards removed Brackett's and Ginsberg's helmets and their own breathing masks. Brackett set his jaw and glared with unbridled hatred at the broad, warty green faces.
"Nilboggi!" he rasped.
Beside him, Ginsberg grunted with dark humor as he clutched his wounded shoulder. "It looks like the marines missed a spot when they were driving them out."
"We'll have to figure out what this place is and report back to the Commander," Brackett said as he sat up and looked around with a critical eye. A nearby guard babbled Nilboggi gibberish in a commanding tone and nudged him with the rifle.
###
The cargo transport rolled through the wide service corridors without hesitation, although to Brackett they all looked the same. After a time, the vehicle slowed to a stop by a wide, opaque window. One of the guards hopped off the car and rapped on the glass. It slid open almost immediately. The guard exchanged incomprehensible words with another Nilbog inside the window, who quickly handed over a pair of collars.
The guard handed them up to his cronies, who snapped them around the necks of their prisoners, then slid a compartment on each collar open to reveal a semi-sphere attached by a thin cable. The guard placed the semi-sphere onto the prisoner's ear.
The Nilbog guard looked them over appraisingly. "You understand my words now?"
Brackett shared a look of surprise with Ginsberg. "Yes!"
"Many tongues get spoken here," the guard told them, "makes the translation devices necessary."
Brackett narrowed his eyes and nodded slowly. "Yeah, now I can tell you that I'm Captain Bradley Brackett of the Galactic Patrol Force. As a peace officer of the Allied Worlds, I demand to know what's going on here!"
The Nilbog guards chuckled with cruelty. "We take you to the Wor-osh," the guard replied. "He will give you what answers he thinks you need. He has no fear of you, or you’re Allied Worlds, nor even the Skro! He rules this moon still, despite the cowardice of others who abandoned this sector to you and your Allied Worlds!" He struck Brackett with his rifle, turned to the driver and barked, "Drive on!"
PART FOUR
Once safely inside the airlocks, the guards removed Brackett's and Ginsberg's helmets and their own breathing masks. Brackett set his jaw and glared with unbridled hatred at the broad, warty green faces.
"Nilboggi!" he rasped.
Beside him, Ginsberg grunted with dark humor as he clutched his wounded shoulder. "It looks like the marines missed a spot when they were driving them out."
"We'll have to figure out what this place is and report back to the Commander," Brackett said as he sat up and looked around with a critical eye. A nearby guard babbled Nilboggi gibberish in a commanding tone and nudged him with the rifle.
###
The cargo transport rolled through the wide service corridors without hesitation, although to Brackett they all looked the same. After a time, the vehicle slowed to a stop by a wide, opaque window. One of the guards hopped off the car and rapped on the glass. It slid open almost immediately. The guard exchanged incomprehensible words with another Nilbog inside the window, who quickly handed over a pair of collars.
The guard handed them up to his cronies, who snapped them around the necks of their prisoners, then slid a compartment on each collar open to reveal a semi-sphere attached by a thin cable. The guard placed the semi-sphere onto the prisoner's ear.
The Nilbog guard looked them over appraisingly. "You understand my words now?"
Brackett shared a look of surprise with Ginsberg. "Yes!"
"Many tongues get spoken here," the guard told them, "makes the translation devices necessary."
Brackett narrowed his eyes and nodded slowly. "Yeah, now I can tell you that I'm Captain Bradley Brackett of the Galactic Patrol Force. As a peace officer of the Allied Worlds, I demand to know what's going on here!"
The Nilbog guards chuckled with cruelty. "We take you to the Wor-osh," the guard replied. "He will give you what answers he thinks you need. He has no fear of you, or you’re Allied Worlds, nor even the Skro! He rules this moon still, despite the cowardice of others who abandoned this sector to you and your Allied Worlds!" He struck Brackett with his rifle, turned to the driver and barked, "Drive on!"
###
The cargo transport rolled along seemingly endless, disorientingly similar, corridors. At long last, it slowed to a stop at a doorway. One guard jumped down from the vehicle and pressed a button on a small keypad in the wall beside the door. Before long, the door opened to reveal a husky young Nilbog with sharp features. "What is it?" he demanded.
"We have come to see the Wor-osh," the guardsman declared. "We have two more warriors for his games, but they managed to kill one of my men, and one of them was wounded."
The Nilbog in the doorway narrowed his eyes and stepped out, closing the door behind him with a touch of the keypad. "My P'Trohg is not to be disturbed at present," he said in a gravelly voice, "I will deal with this in his stead. Show me." The guard waved towards the cargo transport and the official sneered. "Oh. You-mans!"
"Not just humans," Brackett spat back, "Galactic Patrol officers! I don't know who you are, but you're in it deep, mister!"
The official grinned a predatory grin. "I will tell you who I am, you-man," he gloated, "and what our plans are for you both…"
TO BE CONTINUED...
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