Chapter 13
“...Prison Moon Transo.”
Out of the darkness, moving with stealth and camouflage, came a Negritee reconnaissance vessel, infiltrating the Vlanco star system. It had gotten word V was to be transferred to the prison moon Transo. With the most current and experimental technology, this ship was the greatest hope of rescuing V without being detected.
“Are you shadowing the Vlanco space vessel?” asked the Negritee commander.
The pilot glanced back. “Yes, Mid Commander. We are matching them every step of the way.”
“And you’re sure they haven’t detected us.”
“Not yet, sir.”
The energy grid was de-energized temporarily so the Vlanco ship could enter. The Negritee had masked the ship with the newest masking technology and was hoped the procedure would allow them time to slip in with the Vlanco vessel. The Vlancos were transferring V to the only facility used for a high crime of murder...and that was Transo. The rescuers calculated that saving V would be necessary to pass information back to the Earth person.
The mid commander crossed his arms. “It seems as though we entered without being detected. Direct us to the other side of the satellite, soldier.”
“Yes, Sir.”
The ship disappeared to the other side of the moon, while the Vlanco vessel pursued its course to the main containment facility. The Negritee rescue ship had been ordered to landed safely and wait until the moment was ripe for a rescue attempt for V.
***
While the crew was working on the possibilities of a way back, Tom decided to finish his research on the military facilities. He contacted Stron, who set him up with Transo military prison security. Tom hitched a ride with the same security vessel that was transferring V to Transo, and thus, got a first hand look at the rare situation of relocating and confining a prisoner.
The ship had docked to a structure, which allowed an air tight coupling of the moon’s landing port access panels. For V it was like old home week. He met some friendly and not so friendly associates from his home planet. Tom, on the other hand, was escorted to the receiving area, where he met the moon’s advisor.
“Welcome Tom,” said the Advisor. “I will be happy to assist you in any way, but am surprised to see your interest in this facility.”
Tom shrugged. “It’s just part of my evaluation of the Vlanco culture...that’s all.”
“I see,” said the advisor, with a mysterious blandness. “Tom, please let me show you the main operating center.”
Tom walked with the advisor to a larger connecting structure with a view to the prisoner housing. It was an enormous open area with various smaller habitats scattered within and about. The advisor explained how the prisoners were expected to build and develop the habitats as a team. All materials are provided for the construction of the housing, but it was imperative the Vlancos supervise all activities.
The advisor was explaining the basic rules of the facility to Tom when a disturbance in the interrupted their conversation. The advisor peered down into the commune. He realized it was in line with set parameters and continued walking. He told Tom of the time he had some particular prisoners who were addicts to a popular Negritee chemical.
The advisor stopped to explain the incident. “Tom, every evening, like a time rota, they would argue. Not about the same things, but argue in the same way… and very loud. Their habitat courtyard seems to be the most popular but not exclusive place where they argue. A year ago, there was an older Negritee and his brother, who ended up here after the unfortunate murder of some Vlanco explorers. Heavily addicted to the chemical compound, Sitoyos, it would take weeks for them to recover from its effects. The older brother would ridicule the younger one’s inexperience, being captured, and so on, while the older one responded with, ‘Is this what I have to work with! Go shoot yourself you old anis vapor!’ But the older brother would not let up and the younger one said, ‘I don't WANT TO HEAR THIS!!’ The older one persisted to annoy, and the younger responded with increasing volume, ‘I said I DON'T WANT TO HEAR THIS...SHUT UP...SHUT UP! Do us all a favor and exterminate your life!’ As the conversation reached the peak, it suddenly ends when the younger one put a gash in the younger’s head. The older was critically wounded.
Tom perked up. “You mean you let them kill themselves?”
“Tom, we have to allow an amount of free choice in the decisions they make or it will not allow for recovery...hopefully, it will not come to death. The prisoners are antagonized by the fact that many are recovering from using chemicals. Their brain processing ability is disrupted and they refuse treatment from us, just to spite us. Most of their disputes begin from their addiction. They have allowed themselves to think it is normal to be trapped by their chemical addiction and hostile behavior. On their home planet, this behavior has affected the whole of their institutions, communities, and society. Thus, their whole life system is so rigid and ingrained within them, accepting new concepts and change is virtually impossible.”
Tom sighed. “Sounds depressing.”
The advisor nodded. “When we receive our visitors, we start by trying to encourage positive behavior. This action is the first step for change. Many individuals are so involved with who they are and what little they have, they fear that changing themselves could mean becoming less. These fears are customary and an objective for survival.”
The two stopped to watch the prisoners in the middle of a bartering process, from an overhead viewing point. A scuffle ensued then quickly ended.
The advisor continued. “If a Negritee acknowledges that taking a risk will improve their life, then they may move forward. The Negritee however, are greatly skeptical and trust noone…difficult is a mild word.”
“How do you force a motley group like this to take a risk for change?”
“We strive to increase one's knowledge, along with behavioral modifications. Increase trust and certainty reduces risk. We believe, one has either the alternative of living from day to day with worries of basic survival, or expose ourselves to new ideas and the Creator to gain knowledge for a greater opportunity towards perfection.”
Tom shook his head. “Wow, you Vlancos really have some high ideals. On Earth we have a three strikes and you’re out mentality when it comes to prisoners. We tried coddling them a few decades ago with comfort and education, but have opted for more of a strict, tough approach. Basically, if they don’t measure up, they’re as good as forgotten.”
“I am truly sorry to hear that Tom. We never stop pursuing the welfare of the individual.”
Tom smirked. “Even if they reject your efforts, week after week, month after month?”
“Yes, Tom, even then.”
“Even when you run out of finances?”
“I do not understand, Tom? Explain.”
“Funds have to be provided from somewhere, and there are a lot of programs out there that take resources. We on Earth have emphasized priorities for the general population, such as the Deep Space program. So we chose a bare bones, tough, disciplined approach. Aren’t there limits to helping these prisoners?”
“Yes, Tom, of course. But I hope you understand that the priority to ethics in our culture takes precedence over all else. We sacrifice much in the community at large to help work with the quarantined population. That does not mean, we sacrifice discipline, but it must include compassion.”
“Hmm, well, we lost that years ago when the touchy feely funds vanished. What are odds on rehabilitating these guys?”
“Less than one one-hundredth of one percent.”
“Woo hoo,” Tom mocked. “That proves my point...not worth the effort.”
“Tom, in a Vlanco’s mind, one recovered Negritee out of thousands, is always worth the effort. If you would like, I could arrange for you to have a visit in the colony to see the process.”
Tom stepped back, “Are you nuts, I could get killed in there. I’m surprised you even suggest it.”
“Tom, Tom,” the Advisors chuckled. “It is perfectly safe. We provide a localized security field around you’re body, for protection.
“Force field? In that case, sure. I’d be open to it.”
“Fine, Tom. I will contact security and make the arrangements during the mid day nutrient consumption. They are more receptive to visitors at that time.”
By miday the advisor had finished showing Tom the complex and passed Tom onto a female security guard. He stepped on a pad at the top of an open elevator and the security guard press a button. An electrical charge hummed to life and a clear blue bubble engulfed him and then her. They took the elevator down to the main eating arena. Tom noticed V standing at the fringes of the community, trying to determine the hierarchy of the prisoners.
“I shall accompany you, as long as you wish,” said the security person.
“Thanks. But I feel great with my own little castle around me,” said Tom.
She led the way through the open courtyard and slowed when they approached a large dining area. Most of the prisoners had seated themselves to their own cooking.
One of the Negritee prisoners shouted and motioned to Tom. “Come and eat with us Earthman!” The Negritee was large, dark skinned, bald like the Vlancos, and had several scars across his face.
“Looks like I’m well known around these parts,” said Tom glancing at their food. “And it looks like dinner is maggots and miscellaneous body parts.”
“Oh, no this is really very good. Try it,” coaxed the prisoner.
Reluctantly, Tom sampled it and nodded. “Actually, it not too bad. What’s it called?”
“Jathoir. It comes from the Negritee outlands.”
“Okay, fine, but what’s in it.”
“Juvenile arthropods and thoracic organs of indigenous rodents.”
Tom held his stomach. “Oh, man! I knew it—maggots and entrails!”
The Negritee laughed. “You have a weak stomach Earth human!” He and the rest of the Negritee prisoners had a good laugh, while Tom leaned on the side of the table groaning. “Earthman, you have hair like an animal, and you cram your words together. Are you as stupid as well?”
“What the...” Tom’s hands turned to fists.
“You must de-energize the field if you would like to settle this. Negritee to Earth man,” said the Negritee standing up and to the side of the table. The Negritee grabbed some table wear and held it to his side, ready for a fight.
It quickly dawned on Tom that the Negritee was intentionally picking a fight. He looked at his escort for advice.
“They have much pride in physically damaging others, Tom,” said the escort. “It is their way.”
Tom surveyed the area. “Yeah, they seem to get a lot of pleasure out of it too.”
The security guard shook her head. “It is misguided pleasure, and has no redeeming qualities.”
The Negritee turned to the others. “Did you hear that my friends? My comments have no redeeming qualities!” I am the leader of you ingrates, and the Vlancos have no respect for me!”
“Who said you were the leader!” called out another Negritee across the table. “We never agreed with you on this! Shall we now bow down and call you 1st Colony Leader? Ha!”
The dark-skinned Negritee turned to the second with the makeshift knife shaped weapon in his hand and bared his teeth. “You can call me what you like, but if you would like to live, I suggest you say it with respect.”
They lunged at each other, over the table and on top of their food, and into a full-scale attack. The security female walked calmly over and touch them with her hands. A slight buzzing sound was heard. They both went limp and dropped to the ground, unconscious. He turned to the other Negritee prisoners and apologized for interrupting their meal, then suggested they continue. The rest of the Negritee sulked at the loss of a good fight to break the monotony. They plopped back down in their seats and continued their meal as if nothing happened.
Tom was impressed. “That’s quite a device you have in your hands.”
The security guard bowed. “It puts them to sleep for several minutes. This allows us to keep adverse emotional reinforcement from escalating.”
Tom smiled. “Well it’s affective. Oh, by the way, what did he mean by me ‘cramming my words together’?”
“You do have a unique way of connecting two words together. The Negritee and we Vlanco keep our words separated for clarity. However, we find your language intriguing, and do not see it posing problems.”
Tom raised an eyebrow. “Thanks. I wish someone told me this earlier.”
“Why, Tom?”
“Err, ah, I guess no reason, I guess I like to know if I am comm-un-i-ca-ting prop-er-ly. That way, I do not sound like a foo-l Tom said, mimicking the Vlancos. “There, does that sound better.”
“Yes, Tom. It does.”
“Well, maybe to you, but it sounds stupid to me.”
The security female laughed and waved him forward to see the rest of the colony. Tom found that the Negritee were not only responsible for construction of housing, but entertainment, education, and other standard elements of a society. This was to allow the Negritee to interact with one another, while giving the Vlancos an opportunity to monitor recovery needs for each of the individual prisoners. Although the Vlancos provided the supplies to accomplish the tasks, the Negritee controlled their own destiny…within Vlanco guideline of course. There were even some rooms outside the colony where some prisoners were allowed to be counseled in knowledge about the Creator. However only a few Negritee even considered that an option. Ultimately, less than a handful of Negritee have made a commitment to live in the Vlanco system, since the Great Battle.
Tom had seen enough of the colony and as he made his way back through where he had been fed Jathoir.
The dark-skinned Negritee was awake to give him one last, darting comment. “Earth Human, I hoped you liked your food, because when I gave it to you, I added some of my reproductive fluids for you to sample, as well!” He guffawed. Tom shuffled away up to the elevator.
“Was this trip informative to you Tom?” asked the Advisor.
“Yes, plenty informative. After being with the Negritee, you guys are definitely the Boy Scouts of the group. When I got to Onos and I noticed you had no E-Porn, I thought you guys were prudes. But after seeing how you work with the Negritee, you don’t seem so bad after all.”
Tom thanked the Advisor for the tour and boarded the space vessel for the trip back to Onos. The ship gently rose from the ground and cruised over the facility as it made its way toward space. Tom was admiring the moon as the Tri-Star rays were shinning over the facility at sunset.
Tome noticed a curious shinny reflection in the distance. “What was that?”
“What do you see Tom?” said the pilot.
“Over there, in the distance,” Tom said, pointing to a rocky nook in the moon’s landscape. The light had disappeared.
“Do you mean that stand of stones, Tom?”
“No, it was something else; a light of some kind.”
“I will inspect the area for you, Tom,” said the pilot.
The pilot changed course, to get a closer view of the area. It was a peaceful evening and the view was good, but there was nothing to be seen.
“I could have sworn I saw something,” said Tom. His military instincts kicked in. “Can we get another look.”
“I will do better, Tom, and run a full polyspectrol scan for you.”
After a series of scans of the rocky crags below, the results came up negative. The ship continued to fly over the area, giving Tom an excellent view of what ever it was he might have seen—but to no avail.
“I am not picking up anything, Tom. Would you like me to land for an inspection?”
Tom shrugged, “Naw, I guess not. Maybe it was something else.”
“You seem to feel something is there, Tom. We do not take these instincts lightly. I will have Transo security, inspect the area tomorrow.”
“Whatever you think is best. Thanks for the benefit of the doubt.”
The ship returned to its original course and disappeared out of the moon’s vicinity.
***
However, inside the rocky crag, still lay some visitors. “The ships new cloaking device is holding,” admired the Negritee pilot.
“If it’s holding, why did they come to us in the first place?” said the Mid Commander.
“It must have been a power surge in the cloaking grid. They are gone now, sir.”
“If we had experienced another power surge in the cloaking grid, I would have been rather disappointed to destroy the ship before executing our rescue mission. And V would have been stranded here on this barren rock…not that I care. Move the ship, at sunrise.”
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