Pathways - Jeri Taylor [5]
Chakotay heard a grating noise, soft at first, but rising in volume and intensity; then one wall of their enclosure separated at the ceiling and began to lower. Intense sunlight immediately flooded in, assaulting their dilated pupils, and they all squinted or threw up a shielding hand.
Finally the top of the wall lay on the ground, providing a ramp into the hot glare of that ferocious light, so bright they couldn’t yet make out what awaited them.
“Exit slowly,” said the same voice as before.
Chakotay led the way, followed in an orderly fashion by the others. Gradually his pupils were contracting in the light, and he lowered his hand to see what environment, what terrain, they were walking into.
What he saw astonished him.
A vast meadow stretched before them, filled with what looked like thousands of the most miserable beings he had ever seen. Many alien species were represented, all of them emaciated and filthy, most wearing nothing but rags. Small fires burned here and there, creating an acrid, smoky haze that didn’t quite serve to mask the unbelievable stench of the place.
Chakotay noted that the meadow was surrounded by a high wall of what looked to be a dark, burnished metal. At various points along the wall there were openings, each of which was manned by a humanoid figure whom he couldn’t see closely enough to distinguish any features.
Beyond the wall, on three sides, rose a glowering forest of huge trees, dense and foreboding; on the fourth side a steep cliff of rocky shale loomed beyond the wall, bearing the unmistakable striations of a mining operation. And beyond the forest, which stretched nearly as far as one could see, lay a distant mountain range. This walled meadow was isolated by hundreds of kilometers of wilderness.
Stockade was the first word that came to Chakotay’s mind. He turned and saw that the crew had all left the spaceship, which loomed behind them like a huge and vengeful monster, a ship that wasn’t familiar to Chakotay and that bristled with armament. A ship of war. The ramp was now rising, emitting the same shrill whine of metal on metal that had accompanied its path downward.
It snapped into place, and immediately the ship trembled, then rose swiftly and almost silently into the air, where it quickly became too small to see.
Chakotay and his group watched it go, somewhat stunned that they had been dumped so quickly and unceremoniously in the middle of this stockade without so much as a word of explanation.
“What do you make of it, Commander?” asked Tom.
“It looks like a prison of some kind. From the look of the people here, not a very benevolent one.”
Chakotay looked around at the mass of wretched individuals who were watching them, some with curiosity, others with dull eyes that evinced no interest in these newest arrivals. He saw one humanoid with greenish, scummy scales and pale yellow eyes. The eyes seemed alert, and he looked to be in slightly better condition than some of the others. Chakotay walked over to him, hoping to get some answers. The scaly man watched him warily as he approached.
“What is this place?” Chakotay asked in as friendly a tone as he could summon. The man’s lemon eyes darted around as though looking to see whether it were safe to answer. Finally he looked back at Chakotay and said in a guttural voice, “You don’t know? It’s the war camp of the Subu. We’re all prisoners here.”
“We don’t know anything about the Subu, or their war. We were abducted and brought here while we were on a peaceful mission.”
“That’s true of many. You must have strayed into Subu territory. They’ll take anyone who does.”
“Who’s in charge here?”
The yellow eyes flitted here and there again. “You’ll see soon enough,” said the man, who turned and scuttled away. Chakotay looked around for someone else to question, but no one else would make eye contact with him.
He was moving back toward his group, which was milling about uncertainly, when he noted a perceptible shift in the mood of the prisoners, as though