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When they arrived at the Karzonian capitol city, Zykaron, a shuttle from the patrol vessel brought him directly to the roof of the justice building. Coulter covered his eyes, to protect them from the blazing sun. The heat was oppressive. A massive guard, the size of a pro football player, led him across the roof to a waiting elevator.
As the doors opened, Coulter was led into a huge, cavernous space. There were no benches for the gathered crowd, but the floor was angled, so everyone could see the center of the room. The room was packed with Karzonians of all ages, shapes and sizes. Some adults had
their young perched on their shoulders. The walls and ceiling were covered with paintings of Karzonians, and various other species, being tortured.
As the guard walked him slowly through the crowd, Coulter smiled to himself. It was one of those moments, when something strikes you as funny, some stupid thought about the irony of the situation.
“Are you smiling,” the guard demanded. “Don’t you know anything about Karzonian justice?”
“If I could draw a crowd this big on Earth,” Coulter replied, “just by taking my clothes off, I’d be rich.”
When they stopped in front of an ancient Karzonian wearing green and black robes, Coulter was still smiling. The guard slammed a heavy boot onto the toes of his left foot. “Do you still think Karzonian justice is funny?”
As Coulter cringed in pain, the guard bowed towards the Magistrate. “Should I slice off a limb, to punish him for the disrespect?”
The Magistrate slowly pushed back his hood to reveal lines of scars covering his skull. His face was so heavily tattooed, it appeared as if he was wearing a mask. “No, he might bleed to death. He doesn’t deserve a quick, easy death.”
The Magistrate turned and climbed a circular staircase, that lead to a lectern four meters above the dirt floor. As he raised his hands, the crowd became silent. “This human violated our territory and tried to steal property belonging to the state. How do we respond to those who break our Sacred Laws?
The crowd responded. “The law. Justice. Punishment.”
“So it shall be,” the Magistrate said. “His misery shall be a warning to all. He will work in the mines until he leaves our prison as ashes, swept away by the ocean tides. He will never taste freedom again.”
Coulter limped out of the courtroom, as the crowd continued to chant, “The Law. Justice. Punishment. The Law. Justice. Punishment. The Law. Justice. Punishment....”
Moments later he was in the same elevator, travelling back to the roof.
The guard was grinning, or at least the Karzonian version of a grin. “So human, now that you’ve experienced it for yourself, what do you think of Karzonian justice?”
Coulter shrugged. “You should come to a hockey game in Canada, the crowds are even louder.”
“Hockey?”
“It’s the state religion.”
––––––––
As the crowds filed out of the cavern, Rigzar approached the Magistrate. He bowed to the Magistrate. “Rigzar, Servant of Karzon. On behalf of our Supreme Leader, Reeloot, I would like to thank you for.....”
The Magistrate held up a hand and the Officer stopped speaking. Climbing the stairs to the podium once more, the elderly Karzonian, removed a small device hidden by his robes. He
turned around in a circle, as a wide beam moved across the walls. Satisfied with the results, he walked down the stairs and faced Rigzar again. He held out the small device.
“This,” the Magistrate began, “is a very useful little piece of technology. I can use the wide beam to disable listening devices, and the narrow beam to burn a hole through an attacker’s skull.”
“Who would want to harm a Magistrate?” Rigzar asked.
The Magistrate laughed. “Someone who wants to be a Magistrate, of course. Someone impatient, who doesn’t want to wait until one of use dies of old age. My death, for instance, would create an opening for a new Magistrate.”
“But, wouldn’t the death be investigated?” asked Rigzar.
“Think about it,” the older Karzonian replied. “Who would ask a newly appointed Magistrate, if he or she had hired an assassin, to kill the previous Magistrate?”
“No one in their right mind,” Rigzar replied.
The Magistrate returned the device to a holster hidden beneath his robes. “Now, you were saying....”
“We are very thankful that you spared the human’s life.’
The Magistrate acknowledged the Officer’s words with a nod. “I could have had him flayed alive. There is no greater incentive to obey the law, than to watch someone screaming in agony.”
“It would have been etched in the minds of everyone watching,” Rigzar agreed.
“Well then, since I’ve spared that human’s life, I deserve an explanation.”
“It is complicated. I’ll have to refer your request to my superiors.”
The Magistrate pointed at Rigzar. “Don’t you dare be evasive with me. I am a Magistrate of Karzon!”
“No offence intended,” Rigzar responded.
“All Magistrates have the highest level of security clearance,” the older Karzonian continued. “We are required to judge government officials and therefore need authorization to read secret documents. You have no valid reason to withhold information from me.”
Rigzar bowed in submission. “We’ve developed a new technology, which we’ve named Neuro-Interface Manipulation. We need a variety of species to test it on.”
“Neuro-Interference Manipulation sounds impressive,” the Magistrate said, “ but what exactly does it do?”
“As the frequency and intensity of the energy beam fluctuates,” Rigzar explained, “we should be able to interfere with the test-subjects’ neuro-transmitters, and reduce the resistance to orders we give them. Mind control, thought manipulation, there are many ways you could describe it. We’ll be able to destroy enemy fleets by just telling commanders to deactivate their vessels’ energy shields, leaving them defenceless.”
“No technology is foolproof,” replied the Magistrate, “some species will not be influenced by your device, and they will resist.”
Rigzar smiled. “That’s won’t be a problem, as we subjugate the species who are influenced by the Neuro-Interface Manipulation, we will increase our wealth and power. Later,
we will go back and crush those who resisted. Our Sacred Laws will bring order to the universe. No one will stop us.”
The Magistrate placed a hand on Rigzar’s shoulder. “Pure, brutal logic, offering no mercy to inferior species. You deserve to wear that uniform.”
––––––––
Ozelon and Zella sat on the edge of a fountain, in front of the prison administration building. They were both panting after running several laps around the park. The mid-day heat was oppressive.
“Do you remember that trader, from the frozen planet in the Kalsar system?” Ozelon asked. “He said he envied our fur. He wouldn’t envy our fur, if he was here today.”
Zella cupped her hands and splashed water from the fountain on her face. “I don’t think I can stand this place much longer. I’ve never been so bored; no casinos, no live music, no decent restaurants. How long do we have to stay here?”
“Long enough,” Ozelon replied, “that it appears we are actually prisoners. I don’t like it anymore than you do, but we agreed to their terms.”
Zella paused. “I’m not sure it’s worth it.”
Ozelon smiled. “Oh really? When we leave, we leave with the Callus scout ship.”
“You know,” Zella said, “we could make a fortune smuggling cargo and passengers with it.”
“ I was thinking the same thing,” Ozelon replied. “I know we’re already rich, but....”
Zella laughed. “Richer is always better.”
Ozelon pointed at Zella. “And that attitude, is why you will never win a Therloxian good citizen award.”
Zella shrugged. “I can live with that.”
––––––––
Coulter was one of a dozen prisoners chained to benches in a large shuttle. They stared out the windows at Zykaron, passing over skyscrapers, government buildings, and monuments. This was their last glimpse of freedom. A few minutes later they were was flying over water, approaching the island where the enormous prison complex was located. Coulter noticed several beacons changing colour, and assumed a force field had just been lowered.
As the shuttle descended, a formidable building, with huge pillars came into view. According to the briefing on the Challenger, it contained administration offices, and apartments for government employees. In front of the structure was an expansive park with perfectly manicured plants, crisscrossed by gravel paths. Apparently there were some areas in the complex, where life was good.
Near the entrance to the building, two figures sat on the edge of a fountain. Even at this distance, they stood out among the Karzonians walking past them. So the Therloxians were living in one of the government apartments.
“Now I know where to find you,” Coulter whispered to himself.
A Karzonian guard smashed the side of Coulter’s head with a an electric baton. “Did I tell you to speak?”
The pain was incredible, but Coulter struggled to remain silent. He wasn’t going to say or do anything to provoke the guard. He couldn’t finish his mission if he was dead.
As the shuttle landed, Coulter looked out and saw a steel gate barring the entrance to a wide tunnel. Why build fences around the prison complex, when nature provided thick stone walls for free?
Coulter learned he would be working in Phase One of the mining process. The Karzonians claimed it was safe for sentient beings, because the energy crystals were still encased in rock. He hoped that was true. He didn’t want to escape, only to find out he was dying of some alien disease.
During Phase Two, the energy crystals were removed. That work was performed by Karzonian government employees, who never had any physical contact with the crystals. They monitored the machines that cleaned and shaped the energy crystals from behind thick glass walls.
Although radiation wasn’t supposed kill you in Phase One operations, injuries, often fatal, were common. That wasn’t a problem, because the wheels of justice kept turning. Since it was assumed that everyone arrested was guilty, and there were no appeals to to a Magistrate’s decision, there was always a fresh supply of inmates for the Zykaron Central Justice Centre.
During inmate processing Coulter was strapped into a chair, as a Karzonian technician jammed a needle in his arm to draw a blood sample. “Why do you need a sample of my blood?” Coulter asked. “You don’t need to track any of us, because escape is impossible.”
The technician could have ignored Coulter, but he was the first human in the prison, and she was bored. “If you die,” the technician answered, “we’ll need to identify the body for prison records. You’ll be missing from your next shift, and we don’t want guards wasting their time looking for you.”
“Why would you have a problem identifying my body? I’m the only human in the mine.”
“That’s true,” the technician explained, “but occasionally one of the laser boring machines will ignite an undetected pocket of natural gas. When that happens, we won’t find body parts large enough to determine which species were vaporized. Fortunately, we usually find small traces of blood and flesh splattered on the mining shaft walls. That’s why we need your blood.”
After he was processed, Coulter was issued dark purple overalls, indicating he was going to train as a Laser Boring Machine Operator. Bright pink visibility strips rans down the sides of the arms and legs of his overalls. Reflective materials would make it easier for government snipers to find their targets, if there was an inmate riot.
––––––––
A week after starting his prison term, Coulter caught another glimpse of the assassins. It lasted for only a few seconds. He was standing in line in the inmate cafeteria, as they jogged past. He watched them through the clear wall that separated, the cafeteria from the corridor. The yellow triangle on the Therloxians’ shoulders indicated they were visitors.
He asssumed they knew about him, since he was the first human arrested by Karzonian authorities, but he doubted they suspected anything. No one in their right mind would try and get imprisoned by the Karzonians.
Coulter smiled to himself, as he sat at his assigned table in the cafeteria. The odds were still stacked against him, but at least he’d found them, and that meant he had a slim chance of success.
An inmate stared at Coulter from across the room. “From what I know about humans,” he mumbled to those around him, “that’s what a human looks like when he’s happy. Either he’s insane, or he doesn’t understand he’s in the depths of hell.”
––––––––
As a Laser Boring Machine Operator, Coulter’s job was to make sure the machine stayed on a course mapped before each shift. A green dot appeared in the center of a screen located at his eye level. There we two red lines, one to the right and one to the left of the green dot. There were two blue lines, one above and one below the green dot. If the green dot crossed over the blue or red lines, Coulter adjusted the trajectory until the green dot was centered again. He had been assured that if he allowed the machine to veer off course, even for a short time, he would be punished.
A powerful laser, located in the nose cone of the boring machine, blasted the rock. The nose cone was a giant screw, constantly turning. Tracks on the sides of the machine carried the loose material behind it, as they pushed it forward. Another vehicle travelled behind, scooping up the ore. Other inmates used shovels, or their hands, to pick up stray pieces.
The screen was all Coulter saw. The Laser Boring Machine changed direction very slowly, so Coulter could take his hands off the controls momentarily and take bites of his meals in the cockpit. If he spilled any food on the controls or seat, however, he would be punished.
When he needed to use the washroom, he’d pull a lever that put the machine in neutral. A yellow light would start flashing and the time would be recorded as he left the machine and found a spot somewhere nearby. If you stayed in the machine and soiled yourself, and a supervisor noted the smell, you’d be punished. If you took too long taking a shit, you were punished.
The Karzonians had tried fully automated machines, but signals could be disrupted by the energy crystals embedded in the rock. Fortunately for Coulter, a human his size fit the seat and could operate the controls. A human tall enough to be a professional basketball player, or small enough to be a jockey, would be working in the tunnel, along with the other inmates who weren’t the right size.
If there was an explosion, there would be no rescue attempt. It would take far too long to remove a damaged Laser Boring Machine and injured inmates from a collapsed tunnel. It was more efficient to close the tunnel, and reroute the next shift. Machines and inmates could be replaced, but customers couldn’t be kept waiting for their orders.
Prison officials staggered guards’ shifts, making it almost impossible for inmates to guess which guards would be on duty. Guards understood that speaking to inmates, other than giving instructions to follow, was strictly forbidden. The only relationship they had with prisoners, was master and slave.
Schedules were rotated and inmates were transferred between shifts, to ensure escape attempts could never be organized. All Coulter knew, was that if he was assigned to Shift Three, and the buzzer sounded three times, he had just enough time to eat and get to the start-of-shift
muster point. If he was on Shift Two, he got up when the buzzer sounded twice. It rarely happened, but occasionally an inmate was so exhausted, he was late for a shift. Punishment always involved beatings. If you were unable to work because of a severe beating by prison guards, you were guilty of missing another shift and you were punished again. Once you were in that downward spiral, your chances of recovering became very slim.
The first time Coulter witnessed The Pit being used for punishment, all prisoners were ordered to gather at its entrance. They watched silently as guards placed a unconscious inmate and on the edge of the vertical tunnel. A guard revived the prisoner, holding an electric baton against his neck. It only took an instant for the inmate to realise what was happening. He screamed as the guards shoved him over the edge of the stone lip.
The guards immediately placed a metal grating over the top, securing it with bolts. They didn’t want whatever was down there, climbing out. Moments later, anguished cries echoed from the darkness. The inmate had stopped somewhere in The Pit. Whether his clothing had caught on a root, or claws had reached out from an opening in the walls didn’t matter. The slow, agonizing feast had begun.
The Pit was located near the security checkpoint inmates passed through after every shift; a constant reminder of what awaited anyone foolish enough to challenge prison authority.
It was at that security checkpoint, that Coulter found the container he needed to survive the drop through The Pit. All inmates wore tags that measured the radiation they were exposed
to in the mine, and at the end of each shift, they dropped the tags in containers, just large enough for Coulter to crawl inside. After placing the tags in the containers, they walked through x-ray machines, to ensure they weren’t carrying any tools from the mine.
The area had a horrendous odour, because one wall was lined with portable toilets. The cost of running pipes through layers of rock was expensive, so the Karzonians only had a couple of water lines. To keep costs down, they kept portable toilets of various sizes for the prisoners. The most unpleasant duty you could be assigned to, was emptying the vats into the sewer line and flushing them with water.
The inmates were so closely monitored by the Karzonian guards, that violence wasn’t a serious threat. Unnecessary injuries resulted involved paperwork, and lost productivity. The prison authorities were just as serious about profit, as they were about their Sacred Laws.
Although dangerous, Coulter learned how to to keep track of how long he’d been in the prison. At the start of each shift, he glanced at a digital calendar in the Supervisor’s office. If the supervisor noticed him looking in, he’d be beaten for not minding his own business. At the start of one shift, three months after he’d been incarcerated, the young human’s heart raced. The sequence on the digital calendar, matched the sequence Captain MacKay had made him memorize. He was out of time. He would have to make his move, before he was locked away at the end of the shift.
––––––––
The last thing Coulter remembered was walking to the boring machine, and opening the hatch. It was the same routine he went through at the start of every shift. He started to climb inside, and then....
Coulter was standing in front of a Karzonian officer. Coulter looked around; he was standing at least thirty meters from the machine, but he didn’t remember walking away from it . He no idea what officer’s rank was, but the name on his uniform was ‘Rigzar.’
The Karzonian officer tilted his head to one side, with an inquiring glance. “Human. What are you doing away from your duties?”
“I don’t know.” Coulter replied. Something was wrong; there was no way he would have just walked away without permission, but if he had passed out, he wouldn’t be standing up.
“I’m in a good mood,” the officer said. “Work extra hard today, and I’ll let you live.”
Coulter paused, trying to understand what had happened. Several other inmates were standing along a line that had been scratched on the floor.
The officer glanced at a guard. “I don’t think this inmate heard me.”
The guard struck Coulter on the side of his head with an electric baton. Coulter dropped to the floor.
Rigzar smiled at him. “Having a bad day, human?.”
Coulter staggered to his feet and started walking back to the Laser Boring Machine. As he passed out of sight of the guard, Eelak, the only Tarlakian in the mining prison, spoke to him for the very first time. “You all walked away from your jobs.”
“The guards carried one away,” Coulter said. “I don’t know if he’s unconscious or dead.”
“I know. He started screaming that his head would explode, and then he fell down. What happened?” the Tarlakian asked.
“I’m not sure,” Coulter replied. Coulter was terrified. Had the Karzonians just tested a mind-control device? Why else would an entire crew abandon their jobs and risk punishment? It had worked on him. Were all humans vulnerable? Was Earth at risk?”
Coulter was about to climb back into the machine, when he noticed there were several small, glowing prisms scattered throughout the tunnel. He pretended to stagger, which wasn’t
difficult considering how his head felt, and threw himself on the ground. With a quick motion, he grasped one of the prisms and slid it into a pocket on his overalls.
Now, he had another reason to get out of the prison alive. Whatever plans the Karzonians had for the mind-control device, he had to get the prism back to the Challenger. Captain MacKay would know what to do.
Coulter noticed The Karzonian guards weren’t moving to pick up any of the other prisms. He hoped they were going to the test the mind-control system on the next shift as well, so they might not notice one prism missing. By the time they did, he’d either be dead, or the first inmate to escape from the Zykaron Central Justice Centre.
The problem was that, in a few hours, it would be time for the post-shift meal, and then the security checkpoint. If he went through the x-ray machines, they’d find the prism. The Karzonians scheduled about twenty minutes for each meal; that’s when he’d have to make his move.
––––––––
Coulter stood in line, in the inmate cafeteria, trying to think of something that would make the guards panic. As he was handed a bowl of scalding soup, Eelak the Tarlakian sat down at a nearby table. That might work, if he survived.
Coulter walked over to Eelak’s table, and threw the soup in the Tarlakian’s face. For an instant the room was silent, as everyone in the cafeteria tried to process what had just happened. It was as if every planet in the universe had momentarily stopped orbiting their stars. It couldn’t be happening.
The huge creature stood up. The guard ran towards the nearest exit, shooting an inmate blocking his escape route. As soon as he was through the exit, the doors to the cafeteria slammed shut, and an alarm sounded. The other inmates moved to the walls of the cafeteria, trying to get as far away from Eelak as possible.
Coulter yelled at the Tarlakian. “I met your female before I got locked up. She wanted to mate with me, but I told her that she wasn’t good enough for a human!”
The Tarlakian’s roar was so loud it made Coulter’s ears ring. He didn’t really need the paraphrase offered by his translator, “Human die!”
Tables in the cafeteria were bolted to the floor, but the enraged Tarlakian tore them loose, and hurled them at Coulter. When one of the tables left a large crack in the cafeteria’s clear enclosure, Coulter threw himself against the damaged section. Coulter crashed through the barrier, landing in the corridor outside the cafeteria. Because the overalls were made of cut-resistant material, there weren’t any gashes. He’d have some nasty bruises, but at least he wouldn’t bleed to death.
Eelak moved towards Coulter, ready to crush the human’s skull. The Tarlakian paused, feeling a sharp pain in his massive left shoulder. When the pair of eyes facing Coulter closed, and the pair on the back of his head opened, he saw a pair of guards in body armour aiming weapons at him. “Karzonian die!” screamed the Tarlakian.
At the Academy, they had been told that Tarlakians were slow moving, awkward creatures. Apparently, when they were really pissed off, they could move quickly.
Staggering to his feet in the corridor, Coulter found himself staring at a Karzonian guard. He pretended to lift his hands in surrender, then kicked him between the legs. The guard dropped to the floor. Years of soccer had just saved Coulter’s life. Humans and Karzonians had very similar physiologies; the guard would not be getting up soon. Coulter reached down and picked up the guard’s laser rifle.
––––––––
Qeeope guided the shuttle towards the section of the prison facility, where energy crystals were picked up by customers. Having Coulter pretend to steal energy crystals from the scanning station, had worked. When the Challenger returned to the Karzonian border, the Karzonians were convinced the Challenger’s Captain was desperate for replacement crystals. As far as they were concerned, the shuttle was just arriving to pick up an order.
The Karzonians knew the Challenger’s Captain was human and didn’t like her entering their territory, concerned she might try and help Coulter escape. An agreement was reached; Captain Mackay would stay with the Challenger, outside Karzonian territory, and non-human
crew would pilot the shuttle to Zykaron. The Karzonians demanded they pay triple the going rate for energy crystals.
Qeeope was adjusting the shuttle’s final approach, when emergency lights started flashing across the prison complex. He looked at Conzel in the co-pilot seat. “What do you think?”
“Coulter.”
The shuttle swung around and arched over the prison complex. A few minutes later the shuttle entered the caves below the island. A holographic diagram of the prison complex showed the pilots where the bottom of The Pit was located.
––––––––
Ozelon and Zella were in their apartment, when the alarm sounded.
“This isn’t a drill,” Zella said, “we had one two days ago.”
“This would be an ideal time to leave,” replied Ozelon. “I’m beginning to think the Karzonians are having second thoughts. If they kill us, they get to keep a very expensive piece of military hardware. All they have to say, is we were killed by other inmates.”
Zella nodded in agreement. “If I was in their place, that’s what I’d do.”
As they took off their prison overalls and put on their own clothes, Ozelon glanced at his life-mate. “The Karzonians never told us where they stored the Callus scout ship.”
“That’s not a problem,” Zella replied. She removed the blade she kept hidden in her right boot. “I’ll just ask politely.”
A few minutes later the Therloxian assassins were in a washroom on the main floor. With the alarms sounding, it was unlikely anyone would be joining them soon. Ozelon had a Karzonian administrator by the throat lifting him off the floor. “I asked you a question. Where is the Callus scout ship? I know you understand me, you have a translator.”
Zella was standing nearby. “I don’t know what type of marks you got in Biology, my life-mate, but generally speaking, just about every species needs to breathe, in order to talk.”
“I supposed that might help.” Ozelon let the Karzonian’s feet touch the floor, and loosened his grip.
Zella held her blade to the Karzonian’s throat. “I said you need to breathe, but how long you keep breathing, that’s up to you. Where is the Callus scout ship?”
“That information requires a Level Four clearance,” the Karzonian gasped. “Do you have ID proving you have a Level Four clearance?”
“Are you really prepared to die, because of some stupid rule?” Zella asked.
“Rules support the Law,” the Karzonian answered, “and the Law is Sacred.”
Ozelon placed a hand behind the Karzonian’s head and slammed his face into a metal sink. Green blood oozed from his broken nose. The Karzonian glared at the Therloxians. “That is a violation of the Karzonian Civil Code!”
Zella glanced at Ozelon. “If I used this blade to gouge out his eyes, do you think that would that be a violation of the Karzonian Civil Code?”
The Karzonian stared a the blade Zella was holding. “I think,” said the Karzonian, “that I’ll just assume you have Level Four clearance. The Callus scout ship is stored in Section Five, Level Eight.”
Ozelon looked at Zella. “How could I not love you?”
––––––––
Coulter followed a couple of civilian employees, as they rushed down a hallway. As they entered an elevator, his translator picked up an automated voice, announcing they were traveling to the main floor. The symbol that lit up was a circle divided into four triangles. Each triangle was a different colour, so perhaps it was where four corridors met. Coulter hoped the alarm would prompt the Therloxians to move to the main entrance.
As the elevator returned, and the door opened, Coulter found himself facing a Karzonian civilian. Seeing an inmate holding a weapon, the civilian held up his hands in the universal sign of surrender. Coulter smashed the Karzonian in the face with the butt of his weapon and shoved him aside.
Entering the elevator, Coulter pushed the button next to the symbol for the main floor. Immediately, the door closed and the elevator began to rise. It felt as he had left his stomach on the mining level.
Coulter had never handled a Karzonian laser rifle. He stared at two buttons located on the top of the weapon; one orange, one green. He looked at his refection in the elevator’s control panel. “So what do you think? Which colour will bring you luck? Well, when you were in grade
nine, Janice kissed you at the Christmas party. She dumped you a month later, but the kiss was still awesome. Let’s go with a Christmas theme.”
Coulter pushed the green button and heard a faint click. He wasn’t sure exactly what he had selected, but at least he was finally armed.
Coulter stepped out of the elevator. Karzonian civilian employees were leaving the building in what his Space Academy instructors would have called ‘an orderly fashion.’ There were three doors at the main entrance; blue uniforms were passing through the left door, green
through the centre and black through the right door. A moment later, two civilians started moving in his direction.
“You don’t want to be heroes today,” Coulter yelled at them, and pressed the trigger. Flames leapt from the barrel of the weapon. The Karzonian civilians were no longer leaving in an orderly fashion.
Since he didn’t want a flame thrower, Coulter pushed the orange button. He took deep breaths, forcing himself to calm down, trying to decide what his next move would be. It made sense that the Therloxians would be in one of the apartments in the administration building, but would they leave, or stay inside when the alarm sounded?
Coulter watched as two figures appeared on the other side of the main entrance. He didn’t care if it was fate, luck, or divine intervention; he aimed his weapon at the Therloxians and pulled the trigger.