Your Truth is Out There (Find Your Truth Book 1) (26 page)

Rather than kill Dilnch right then and there with his bare hands, which is what he wished to do more than anything, Klarnus instead glared silently at his partner, waiting patiently for him to finish his incessant rambling.

“I knocked you out,” he said, when Dilnch finally fell silent, “because I didn’t have the time to explain how completely incompetent you are, or how you nearly ruined Ricnor’s plan. If I hadn’t stopped you, you would have destroyed his plan beyond the point where I could have fixed it. You do know what happens to those who mess with Ricnor’s plans don’t you? Or are you even more ignorant than I thought?”

Dilnch bowed his head without saying a word. It was such a rare oddity that Klarnus took it to mean he actually understood the severity of the trouble he was in.

“Personally, I could care less if he were to discipline you,” said Klarnus. “However, since he made the two of us partners, your screw-ups spill over on to me, and that is something that does concern me … a great deal, as a matter of fact. So, I took care of the problem by taking care of you.”

“I … I … I’m sorry, Klarnus,” said Dilnch. “But how was I supposed to know, I mean, how do you even know what Ricnor’s plans are? We haven’t been in contact with him since we left Clangdor.”

“You mean YOU haven’t been in contact with him since we left Clangdor. I spoke with him while you and the accountant were waiting in the barn. He told me exactly what he wants us to do.”

Dilnch’s eyes grew wide.

“How? I mean, how were you able to contact him without the accountant seeing or hearing you?”

Klarnus smiled. This little drama of his was having the effect he wanted. His idiot partner was in awe of him and on the defensive for his own skin. This was nice, for a change.

“The accountant isn’t nearly as smart as he thinks he is,” snarled Klarnus, “and he certainly doesn’t know this ship like we know it, and I know it even better than you. While the two of you were waiting for the first Earthling to show, I went invisible, and came back in here and made a call on an untraceable line.”

“An untraceable line?” asked Dilnch, clearly not believing his partner. “There’s no such thing.”

“That’s what you think, which is why I’m in charge and you’re not. Maybe someday, if you straighten up and start pulling your weight around here, I’ll show you how, but right now we have more important things to do.”

“Like what?”

“Like keeping the accountant on track with his mission and getting him back to Mindaal with the paintings.”

“We already have the paintings,” said Dilnch, “why don’t we just kill him now? We’ll be heroes back at Mindaal.”

“Because that’s not what Ricnor wants, you idiot.” He smacked Dilnch again, in the same spot on the side of the head. “This Gsefx character has gotten the boss riled up and Ricnor’s cooked up something special for him back at headquarters. Our job is to play along with Gsefx, like we’re really helping him, but also make sure he gets back to Mindaal with the paintings as soon as possible.

“Do you think you can do that, Dilnch? Do you think you can do it without making Gsefx angry enough to knock us out again, or worse? I don’t know about you, but I’ve been knocked unconscious quite enough lately. And you’ll want me in a good mood when I report to Ricnor, because my report will have a lot to do with your next assignment. If you ever have another one. Do you understand me, Dilnch?”

“Yeah, sure thing, Klarnus. I’ll do whatever you want me to do. Just say the word.”

“Good. Now, let’s get out of this juricking piece of gralt and back into our ship.”

Dilnch got up and reached for the latch to open the door that led back into the main cabin. Before he could unlatch it, Klarnus grabbed his shoulder.

“Remember Dilnch, do whatever the accountant tells you to do, and if he doesn’t tell you to do anything, then don’t do anything. Got it?”

Dilnch smiled.

“I’ve got it, Klarnus,” said the Jikian. “There’s nothing to worry about.”

“That’s what worries me,” said Klarnus.

Dilnch unlatched the door and stepped into the main cabin. Klarnus was about to follow his partner through when he heard Dilnch let out a brief yell, then drop to the floor. He leaped through the door, only to find the accountant pointing that juricking scrambler at him.

“Sorry Klarnus,” said the accountant, “but my plans have changed and I don’t have time to explain them to you.”

“You’ll pay for this, accountant,” fumed Klarnus.

“Very likely, but it can’t be helped.”

The pain, now as familiar as a Yelton sunset, shot through Klarnus’ body and he dropped to the floor. As darkness overtook him once again, his mind raged with thoughts of revenge against the Clangdorian accountant. The one who was supposed to have been such an easy mark, but had instead become his incessant tormentor. He, Klarnus, would exact revenge for all that had been done to him and even as he fell into the dark abyss of unconsciousness, his lips curled into an evil, if innocuous, smile.

Henry sat in his room, brush in hand, staring at the canvas in front of him. It was blank, just as it had been for the past two days.

“This is madness,” he said aloud as he set the brush back onto the easel, stood up, and stretched carefully before walking across the room to the sink. He had healed well, but he was still tender in places.

For a prison cell, Henry’s room was actually quite spacious, especially compared to his previous accommodations. The only way in or out was the solid metal door located in the far right corner, unless you counted the two-foot-by-two-foot window covered by a steel mesh grate, located on the wall opposite the door. That was fine, Henry had no intention of trying to escape.

Aside from Henry’s bunk, sink, and private toilet (a blessing for which he was eternally grateful), his cell also boasted its own personal art studio, courtesy of General Alcorn. It came complete with a chair, easel, and enough canvasses, brushes, paints, and other accessories to last a very long time. It seemed he’d made an impression on the General, after all.

He also had the other, more mundane things, like food, water, and shelter—things that Henry used to spend most of his time and energy trying to acquire. So much so, that he had given up on his art altogether. More than anything else, though, Henry had peace and quiet. No more interrogations, or psychotic guards trying to torture or kill him. No more demanding wives or parents, insisting he live and act a certain way.

I should be happy,
he thought as he splashed water on his face.
Sure, I’m locked up in a prison with no chance of ever getting out, but I also don’t have any worries. In truth, I’m freer than I ever have been. So why can’t I paint anything? I had all of these ideas while I was in the other prison, with no outlet for them. Now that I’m here, I’ve got nothing.

He splashed his face again, and with his eyes still closed, reached for the towel hanging by the sink and began drying himself. When he turned around and opened his eyes, he jumped nearly a foot in the air and let a short yell that was immediately cut short when the four-armed, four-legged, blue-skinned alien that had come up behind him reached out and covered his mouth.

“Henry,” the alien said in a whispered voice, “you must be quiet, or I won’t be able to rescue you.”

Henry nodded and the alien uncovered his mouth.

“Zef!” said Henry in a whispered shout, “what are you doing here? I never thought I’d see you again. Wait … you speak English?”

Gsefx smiled. “Yes, I learned your language shortly after I departed the last time I was here. It’s actually a simple language. But no time for talking now. We have to get out of here before we’re caught.”

Henry was not ready to move on just yet.

“But, how did you get in here?” he asked, looking around the room and not seeing any sign of forced entry.

“Shhhh … lower your voice,” said Gsefx as he turned Henry around and gently pushed him toward the easel and his art supplies. “You must grab whatever items you need to take with you, and then we must go.”

“Go? Where are we going?” asked Henry defiantly, although he wasn't exactly sure why he was acting that way. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m finally in a place where I’m safe and comfortable. I can’t leave here. I mean, why would I want to leave?”

“I do not understand, Henry,” said the clearly puzzled non-terrestrial. “Do you mean you would rather stay here, locked in a cage, than come with me and be free?”

Henry frowned, turned away from his alien friend and went to sit on his bed.

“It’s not that I would choose to stay here over going with you,” said Henry, “but look around … for the first time in my life, all of my needs are being met. I now have the freedom to draw and paint whenever and whatever I want. I’m not sure I can just walk away from that.”

Henry watched as his blue-skinned friend did as he was asked and looked around. After a few minutes Zef walked over and picked up the blank canvas sitting on the easel and held it up.

“I won’t pretend to understand Earthlings or what motivates you to do the things you do. I can’t even tell you why I do some of the things I do. But I can tell you, Henry, you are not someone who should be caged up like a criminal, because that is not what you are. They may be meeting some of your needs here, but not all of them. You are an artist, Henry, and from where I come from, artists must actually experience life to be able to express it in their work.”

Henry sat for a moment, dumbfounded. He always assumed Zef was very advanced technologically, considering how he’d traveled to Earth in a spaceship and all, but clearly he’d underestimated his non-terrestrial friend.

“But, there’s another reason you must come with me, Henry,” continued Zef. “The last time I was here, you saved my life and I am forever indebted to you for that.”

“And now you want to save my life by freeing me from prison,” said Henry, interrupting his friend. “I understand, Zef.”

“No, I don’t think you do. I’m not here to repay you, Henry. I need your help again. My wife has been kidnapped and I need your help to get her back.”

At once, dozens of questions jumped to the tip of Henry’s tongue, waiting for the chance to burst forth.
Why me? What can I do? Your wife?
Instead of verbalizing his questions, Henry looked his friend in the eyes, and there saw everything he needed to know. For his eyes couldn't lie, and they told Henry that Zef was tired, exhausted even. But, he was also desperate, as if he’d run out of options and had nowhere left to turn, which made sense if he’d come back to Earth seeking help from an imprisoned artist who had absolutely no idea how to help. But none of that mattered. His friend needed him, and Henry wasn’t about to turn his back on the only being in the entire galaxy who seemed to actually care about his well-being.

“There’s nothing here I need,” said Henry, standing up. For some reason, he felt stronger than he had in a long time. He seemed to stand a bit taller, too. “I don't know what your plan is for getting us out of here, but whatever it is, let's go.”

Zef smiled and reached out his hand.

“I believe it’s customary in your culture to shake hands in moments like this,” he said.

“Only if we were going into business together or something ridiculously mundane like that,” said Henry. He stepped in and wrapped his arms around his friend from beyond the stars. “This requires a hug.”

Henry felt four arms wrap around him, which was an odd enough sensation in and of itself, but then he was squeezed harder than he’d ever been squeezed in his life. He wouldn’t have guessed it, but, in addition to being much smarter than he looked, Zef was also much stronger. When Zef finally released him, and he could breathe again, Henry decided he wouldn’t underestimate his alien friend ever again.

“Okay, now that that’s out of the way, how do we get out of here?”

“Simple physics. Allow me to show you.”

Zef reached into his jacket, and pulled out a square device with several buttons and a dial on it. He pointed the device at the outside wall, just below the window, and pressed one of the buttons. He then began turning the dial. Henry looked up at the wall and saw a faint red outline begin to form. It grew larger as Zef turned the dial. He stopped when the outline reached about three feet square.

“What are you doing?” asked Henry.

“Patience, my friend, patience.”

Zef pressed more buttons and, without a sound, without so much as a chip in the paint, the steel reinforced concrete, that had been outlined in red, began to shrink, and was suspended in midair by a second, blue beam. Zef moved the block out of the way so they could escape through the newly created hole in the wall.

“Unbelievable,” said Henry as he walked over and looked outside. “No alarms went off—not a sound at all. We can walk right out of here. Well, we could if we weren’t on the third floor. Any thoughts on that?”

Zef simply smiled and pressed another button. A moment later, a ship floated down from where it had clearly been hiding somewhere high above.

“I recognize this baby,” said Henry as the ship stopped right next to the freshly made opening in the wall. “I hope she’s in better shape than the last time you flew her here.”

“Yes, I’ve had her completely checked out,” said Zef. “She’s in as good of condition as possible.” He clicked another button and the ship’s doors retracted. “Now, we really should go.”

“Yes, of course,” said Henry, “we wouldn’t want someone to see the ship and notify General Alcorn. He’s been red hot over your escape. He said you’d be back for me and I wouldn’t want to see what he’d do if he ever caught you.”

Zef smiled that damn smile of his again.

“What is it with you?” asked Henry. “You’re always smiling, like you know something I don’t. What is it this time?”

“Don’t worry about General Alcorn,” said Zef, walking past Henry and climbing into his ship. “I’ve taken care of him. Now, let’s get out of here.”

“What exactly does that mean?” asked Henry, as he climbed into the ship after his friend. “Zef … what did you do to General Alcorn?”