Scattered Suns by Kevin J. Anderson Page A

cradled his aching hand and joined his fellow captives as they pressed against the transparent wall.
    Outside, another group of hydrogues had hauled a much larger object forward, something made by non-hydrogue hands. Despite the horror and confusion around him, Robb’s face lit up. “That’s my encounter chamber! The hydrogues kept it.”
    A flood of unreasonable optimism rushed through his brain. “What if they’re taking Charles into the diving bell? Maybe they’ll pressurize it and let him go.”
    “Don’t be ridiculous,” said Anjea Telton.
    Robb shook his head, refusing to give up hope. He had experienced too much despair over the past months of being trapped here. But even if the diving bell was shot back up to the clouds—of whatever planet they were inside now—how would Gomez ever get to a human settlement or even another ship?
    “They might’ve arranged some sort of hostage transfer,” Robb said. “The military has done it many times before. Maybe the drogues sent another emissary, like the one that killed King Frederick. Maybe they’ve arranged a cease-fire or peace terms. Maybe—”
    But when he saw what the hydrogues were doing, his excitement drained away into a bottomless pit. The creatures stood around the transparent coffin and activated a vent on the sides, slowly letting in their own atmosphere.
    Trapped inside, Gomez began to struggle and pound even more furiously.
    “What are they doing?” Anjea said.
    “They’re gradually increasing the pressure. They’re opening up his chamber to the outside environment.”
    “That’ll kill him.”
    “I think that’s the idea.”
    Inside the coffin-shaped transport bubble, Gomez grew wild. The hydrogues looked down at him, as if studying his reaction for later discussion. Gomez pounded, kicked. His mouth stretched open in a scream. His eyes were wide and bulging.
    “Stop it!” It was useless, and Robb knew it. The other captives moaned or cried.
    As the pressure continued to increase, Gomez finally ceased his thrashing. His eyeballs hemorrhaged, and blood began to run out of his nose and ears. By now all of his internal organs must have been crushed. Robb blinked tears from his eyes. He wanted to look away from the horror, but couldn’t.
    The hydrogues didn’t stop there. Even after Gomez had been killed, they continued to let the atmospheric pressure grow greater and greater, until the dead prisoner’s body began to snap and implode, all of its structure breaking down.
    It took almost ten minutes for the body to be squeezed into a gruesome paste. Then the three implacable hydrogues unsealed the halves of the coffin and upended it to pour out the gelatinous pulp. The reddish mess, spangled with splinters of bone, spread out in a heap outside among the hydrogues’ geometrical structures. The three quicksilver figures stared at the runny mess, as if waiting to see if it would form itself into a body like their own. Instead, the organic matter that had been Charles Gomez simply bubbled and oozed.
    The hydrogues finally left. What had they hoped to accomplish? What had they expected? Was it some sort of cruel experiment? A torture? A punishment, or even amusement? Robb didn’t speak; the other captives remained sullen and silent.
    “We’ll never get out of here alive,” Anjea said.
    Then, as the remaining prisoners backed toward the rear of their protective chamber again, the hydrogues came forward to take another experimental subject.
     
    Chapter 12—ADAR ZAN’NH

    From his command nucleus, the Adar stared in disbelief at the images from the besieged docking bay. His escort troops, protocol officers, and reception committee lay sprawled on the deck, cut down by stunners or beaten senseless. The doors were sealed, all access blocked. Rusa’h had barricaded himself in with his hostages, and demanded the impossible.
    “Get our engineers and constructors working. I want them to break through that door. Recapture my docking bay.”