I’ve known people who find drinking until they pass out fun. They laugh about waking up in a foreign surrounding with people they don’t know and how they have no memory of how they got there. I’ve never seen the fun in it and certainly never pursued it, but a similar phenomenon has happened to me twice. Once I woke up in a med pod after the horrors of battle on Luyten C. The second time I woke up in a cage, completely naked, my head throbbing with pain.
I didn’t know where I was or what had happened. I lay crumpled for hours; every part of me hurt. The sun was hot, almost blinding. Just opening my eyes made my head throb as if someone was stabbing my brain with hot needles. I couldn’t get comfortable—the metal bars of the cage I lay in were unyielding and hot. Likewise, the sand under me was filled with sharp rocks. For a while I thought that maybe I had died and ended up in hell. But eventually my reason returned, and I recognized my cage.
The back of my head hurt to the touch. There was a large knot but no blood. The helmet had saved me, and I knew enough to recognize that I was suffering from a concussion. Worse still was the dehydration. My tongue was like a piece of leather, and I could tell that it seemed swollen too large. Swallowing was difficult and painful. But I didn’t complain. I wanted to die, but I was alive, which meant that there was a chance that I could escape. My TAC team training had proven to me over and over that there was always a chance as long as I was alive, and no matter how deep my despair, I refused to give up that hope.
I couldn’t say how long the Orcs had me—maybe hours, but more likely days. Once I showed signs of consciousness, they came for me. My dehydration and cramping muscles were signs that I had been their captive for at least a full day and night. The heat of the day made me think it was mid-afternoon, but there wasn’t a lot of time to think things through before a pair of Orcs appeared at my cage. The door was opened, and I barely had time to push myself back before their large, powerful hands grabbed hold of my bad leg. They pulled me, wrenching my bad knee and hip and dragging my unprotected flesh across the rough metal bars that made the floor of the cage. I could have fought back, but I was so weak and hit with a wave of nausea. Instead I struggled to keep the rough treatment of the Orcs from hurting me any more than necessary.
They pulled me to my feet, but I couldn’t stand. Pain was shooting through my entire body; it felt as if I were standing on a live electrical wire. The Orcs held me up, growling and barking. The sounds hurt my head, and the smell of their bodies was horrible. Their hands were rough, and they pulled me along with no concern for my well-being. I had just enough strength to see where they were taking me: into the building on which their cannon was mounted. I thought about the explosives above me. Part of me wished I could set them off. I wouldn’t mind dying if it meant taking out their secret weapon and killing the Orcs at the same time.
But dying was a luxury that I wouldn’t have and couldn’t claim. Inside the building, I saw what was to come. The stench of rotting flesh hit me like a physical blow. The interior of the building was hot. I saw tables stained red with human blood, and one body lay dissected, the skin and muscle pinned back with large needles so that the interior organs could be studied.
I was pressed against a wall while a heavy metal shackle was clasped around my neck. More shackles were fastened around my wrists, and a chain was pulled across my stomach. Once I was locked in place, the chains were pulled back so that I was pinned to the wall. I had to stand on my toes to keep the metal ring around my neck from choking me.
The Orcs left, and for a few minutes I thought I was alone. I couldn’t see the cage on the floor very well because of the shackle around my neck, but after a few moments, I heard a voice.
“You survived the crash,” a croaking voice said. “I wish that were a good thing.”
I strained my eyes to look down and saw a wretched-looking man curled in a cage half the size of what the other prisoners had been kept in. There were cuts and burns on his naked body. But despite all that, I recognized him. It was Master Sergeant Phil Carney, a fellow TAC team member.
“Master Sergeant,” I croaked back.
Carney actually chuckled. I couldn’t imagine how painful being stuck in that tiny crate would be. It was clear that he had been tortured by the Orcs, and yet he could still laugh. I could only hope that I might be so strong when the Orcs began working me over.
“What happened?” he asked. “I heard the attack. Call me crazy, but I thought someone was on the roof a couple nights ago. I thought maybe they were going to blow the place.”
“I didn’t know anyone was inside,” I said.
“It was you,” Carney said. “What happened?”
“We came to blow the cannon, but I lost the remote detonator.”
“Always carry a backup,” Carney chuckled. “I thought I taught you better than that.”
“What can I say? I got cocky.”
“Well you must have done something right. The Orcs have been on a tear ever since.”
“We rescued the other hostages,” I said. “Stole one of the Orc transports. I don’t suppose they’re too happy about it. How’d you get off the Rihla ?”
“I was looking for Dog. He was flirting with a petty officer up on the recreation deck. I was on my way up to get him when we were attacked.”
“How long have you been in here?”
“I don’t really know,” he said. “They don’t like it when you don’t react to their torture, but I refused to give them the satisfaction. They’ve had me in this cage a long time.”
The door to the room opened, and a trio of Orcs entered. One was huge—a hulking brute a full meter taller than I was. The others were smaller with more fat and less muscle than the troopers I had seen in the past. They held back, letting the larger Orc approach me. It had a cruel gleam in its narrow eyes. The brute’s jaw was wide, and its fat lips were nearly pinched with long, pointed teeth. It growled and barked—at least that’s what it sounded like. I could smell the stench of its hot breath as it leaned forward and snarled in my face.
Part of our TAC team training was dealing with torture. During one training session, I had a sadistic NCO beat me senseless. I was kept in a sensory deprivation tank for another part of the training. We were even put in a room with no furnishings and not allowed to sleep for five days and nights. It sounds cruel, but it gave us a chance to practice the art of mental evasion. The trick was to develop an imaginary place and make it as real as we could in our minds. When the pain started, you could go to that place mentally and disconnect from the torture your body was enduring. I had developed my own mental evasion during my year of recovery after Luyten C, and I was on my way to a little tropical island I called “Sanctuary” when the Orc punched me in the stomach. I had never felt such a blow. The air was driven from my lungs, and I wanted to double over, but the shackles held me fast. I retched and gasped for air, but my lungs seemed incapable of refilling.
“Don’t give ’em the satisfaction, Staff Sergeant,” Carney shouted from his tiny cage.
My eyes were mere slits, but I saw the brute roar and kick Master Sergeant Carney’s little cage. The metal crunched under the Orc’s blow, gouging Carney. I huffed in a tiny ribbon of air, my body straining to keep my chin above the ring that held my neck. The Orc turned back to me, his face close to the side of my head. He growled as I managed to get some air back into my lungs, and then I heard a crack. My head was jerked to the side as the Orc ripped off my ear. It was little more than a lump of scar tissue anyway, but the pain was real. It took all my strength not to scream. Instead, I focused on my imaginary island hideaway. I could see the blue ocean rolling toward the white sand on the beach. The breeze was blowing, making the palm trees sway as I sank down into a hammock and focused on the view. The water rolled in and out. My body convulsed, but it seemed far away. The Orc hit me again, breaking three ribs, but I was untouchable.
Once the big Orc had finished brutalizing me, the two smaller Orcs began to inspect me. They were especially interested in my missing eye. The black patch had been sealed to my face with flesh glue that allowed the skin to bond. But the Orcs didn’t let that stop them from prying it away. I could feel the blood dripping down my face as they probed the empty socket, but that knowledge was like hearing about someone else; while there was pain, it didn’t register as something I was suffering. They looked at the surgical scars too, but eventually they finished their inspection.
I was released from the shackles, but I didn’t have the strength to stand on my own and collapsed to the floor. The big, brutish Orc lifted me up, his hands like vices, and pulled me onto a metal table. Straps were pulled to tie me down to the table, and then my surgical scars were sliced open. By that point, the sun was setting in my imagination and I was standing on the beach, letting the warm water lap around my ankles. I focused on the sensation of the sand swarming around my toes as the waves rolled back. My presence in the real world was fading. I was less aware of anything as they probed around my artificial hip, knee, and shoulder. My eyes were open, but I wasn’t there. If anything, I could feel my life sliding away, like the imaginary sand around my toes. I was being drawn into something larger than myself, like a drop of water falling from the sky into the sea. Soon I would cease to exist as an individual and just be part of something greater, and I didn’t mind. It was like falling asleep.
I was becoming less and less conscious—which is why I didn’t realize it when the two Orcs, which I thought of as scientists, started an IV and began pumping me full of fluids and chemicals. I fell asleep and woke up not in my fantasy world, but in the building at the summit of the Orrkasi encampment. I was still strapped to the table, my body aching horribly, but I wasn’t as dehydrated as before.
After looking around for a few minutes and testing my bonds to see what would move and what wouldn’t, I thought of Master Sergeant Carney in his cage. It was too dark to see anything clearly, although there were lights on some of the instruments around the room. It was also much cooler than when I was first brought in.
“What happened?” I asked.
“Welcome back to the land of the living,” Carney croaked. “I wasn’t sure you were going to make it.”
“I was on my way out,” I said. “Happy to go, too.”
“I’ll bet.”
“How’d they bring me back? I feel better and worse at the same time.”
Carney snorted, then coughed. I could tell he was in pain; his voice sounded weaker than before.
“Fluids, but don’t ask me what’s in them,” he said. “They like to keep their prisoners alive.”
I reached out for my hip, the one I knew they had sliced open. It hurt, but there was a goo on my skin—some type of sealant.
“Do you have any idea what they’re doing?” I asked. “They aren’t trying to communicate.”
“I don’t think they’re interested in our language,” Carney wheezed. “But they’re very interested in our technology. They got a bunch of stuff from what was left of the Rihla . They had people tinkering with power tools and data slates, and even some stuff I didn’t recognize—a heating element or air scrubber, I don’t really know.”
“Trying to find our weaknesses?” I postulated.
“No, I think they just want to understand our tech. That’s why they carved you up like a Thanksgiving turkey.”
“They were looking at my artificial knee and hip.”
“Bingo. You’re the first human with non-biological parts. That should keep them entertained for a while.”
The thought of being entertainment for the Orrkasi torturers wasn’t pleasant. But my mind was clear. If I had a little time, I might even be able to resist a little. After moving as much as my bonds would let me, I fell asleep again. The next morning I was taken out of the building and put back into a cage. I was the only captive within sight. For a while I watched the ships come and go. Eventually, I was given some type of food. I didn’t know what it was—a synthetic food of some sort. I choked down as much as I could and drank all the water they gave me. By evening I felt even better, although sore.
I slept through the night, although I woke up shivering as some point. My body needed rest to heal. The incisions were mending fast. Whatever the Orcs had slathered the cuts with seemed to promote healing. But my concussion was slower to resolve, and it would take weeks before I could take a full breath again.
Two days later, I was taken back into the building and lashed to the table. The Orcs inspected me, I suppose to ensure I was healing, then sent me back to the cage. I had just enough time between the check-up and the guards returning to discover that Master Sergeant Carney had died. He was still crammed into the tiny cage. Lying on the exam table, I managed to turn my head to the side. Carney was staring vacantly out at nothing, his skin waxy with a slightly blue color. I could see where the blood had pooled at the lowest part of his body and created what looked like bruises. Tears flowed from my eye, and I didn’t mind. Despite my weakened state, I was filled with fury. It was one thing to see people you didn’t know slaughtered. But seeing someone you did know—someone you thought of as a friend—die like an animal in what must have been an agonizing span of weeks was a different story. I determined in that very moment to find a way to get back at the Orcs for what they had done.
That night I didn’t sleep. In the cage, I wasn’t shackled and could move around as much as the cage allowed. Getting free wouldn’t be easy, and I had no illusions about escaping alive. What I wanted was a chance to get to the remote detonator that I had left behind. If I got my hands on that, I could pay the Orcs back in spades for what they had done to me.
I checked every part of my cage, but it was solid. The metal wasn’t even rusted yet. Hours passed as I struggled to find something that would help. I searched the dirt under my cage, but there wasn’t anything large enough to use to snap the locking mechanism. Kicking the lock didn’t work. My guess was that the thin bar was strong one way, but not another, like how an eggshell is strong at the pointed end, but if you put a little pressure on the side, it cracks. I needed something like my old knife that could put pressure on the side of that locking bar.
When the sun rose, I hadn’t found anything. The guards took me back for another inspection. I was scanned with some type of alien device. The Orcs tested the limits of my artificial joints, bending my legs to see the difference between the natural joint and the medical replacement. They did the same with my hip and shoulder. It was excruciating and left me feeling weak and shaky. When the guards came to carry me back to my cage, I spotted a piece of spare wire. There were various pieces of hardware in the room, like a battery charger, a water purifier, some broken communication equipment, and even my helmet from the heavy armor I had been wearing when the Orcs caught me. The back of the helmet was dented and cracked, which I suppose had wrecked the system. If the Orcs’ heads had been smaller, they might have put the helmet on and learned about the suit’s safety features and computer interface. But their heads were too big to fit inside, and from the looks of it, the helmet was ruined from the blow to the back of my head.
As the Orcs started for the door, I made my move. I wasn’t strong enough to fight the troopers escorting me back to my cage, but up until that point I hadn’t struggled against them. When I suddenly wrenched myself free, they were caught by surprise. I fell, partly from the sudden pain in my side that was a result of the broken ribs, and partly to get my hands on the wire. The Orcs roared in outrage. One grabbed my arm, but I managed to close the wire in my fist. It was barely the length of my hand and already curled into a circle. I had it and felt a sense of elation until the second Orc cuffed the side of my head with his open hand. It was a slap, but it made my ears ring and I saw sparks dance in my vision. They hauled me up onto my feet, but I was too dizzy to stand on my own. I hadn’t quite gotten over the concussion. They dragged me back to my cage and tossed me roughly inside. I managed to roll onto my good side before I lost consciousness.
When I woke up it was dark, and I felt a piercing sense of fear. The camp was quiet. I looked all around, but there was no movement—at least nothing I could see in the dark. My hand was asleep from being caught under me while I slept. The numb hand was hardly responsive, and I couldn’t feel anything but the buzz of pins and needles as the blood flow increased. Reaching over, I checked for the wire; it was still there. Waiting is never easy under any circumstance, but I decided to wait before trying the wire. I leaned against the door of my cage and waited. Still no movement: the camp was deep in its nightly slumber. The patrolling guards rarely came close to the cages, but I was terrified that I might be seen. After waiting for what felt like an eternity, I slipped the wire between the lock and the side of the cage where it fastened. It took a while for me to maneuver it around to where I could take hold of both ends. It was shorter than I would have liked, but I got it wrapped around the locking bar. Had the mechanism been any bigger, the wire would have been useless. It was too flimsy to pick the lock—if that was even possible with the Orrkasi-built device—but it was stout enough not to snap easily, and it put pressure on the weak side of the locking bolt.
I yanked down on the wire but only ended up losing hold of the wire. It took three more tries, but eventually the bolt snapped. My heart was racing, and I had trouble catching my breath as the door swung open. I was weak, hurt, and afraid, but I was also free—and I knew exactly what I needed to do to exact my revenge.