The Big House
by Selvane Vladiva
<area: inside the Chi-Lin detention facilities, evening>
The corridor was dark. Dark and stifling, like the hall
in a movie theater. The little light there was came from a small
(2 cm) strip of lighting in the ceiling every meter. Selvane
could barely hear his footsteps, or the footsteps of the 2 guards
securing him as he was lead through the tight hallway. His hands
were bound behind his back, and his legs hurt like hell. 35 km of
hiking and a street fight will do that to you. The corridor
turned ahead, and opened into a large dark room, lit by a circle
of lighting strip at the top of the domed ceiling. There were 2
doors at the back. Both lead down a dark corridor. In the center
was a black desk with 2 men standing at it. The desk was more of
a box with lots of blinking lights and buttons. Selvane was
hustled in front of the desk. The two officers were plump and
looked rather jolly, except for the sidearms. There uniforms were
the same as the gate officer's, except the orange highlights were
replaced with blue.
The soldier holding Selvane's right arm addressed the two,
"Onad, me koob," one of the officers on the other side of the
desk chuckled.
"Estrada koo?" all four of the soldiers enjoyed a slight
chuckle. Selvane got an annoyed look on his face. The desk
officers shook their heads. One grabbed a small camera and took
Vladiva's picture. He was turned to the side. Another picture. He
was turned to face the desk, and bent over the side. The man on
the left side of the desk garbed a small tube that look like a
fiber optic wire and shined it into his eyes.
*Retinal scan,* Selvane thought. Next, the other desk
officer held something that looked like a microphone up to
Selvane's lips. He pressed a button, and a speaker somewhere on
the desk began to play a recording.
"Bentna sta, zilla, sempta, kroth kan. Belta stor, dru,
shraada, usk val. Kreptor gauss, nan sempher, vale......" it went
on for several minutes, until finally it played, "State your
name, place of origin, employment, and language..."
{The following statements by Selvane are translated from
Russian}
"Selvane Vladiva, Earth, aircraft engineer, Russian,"
Selvane spoke into the microphone. The two rotund desk jockeys
seemed satisfied, and waved Selv and his captors toward the door
on the left, behind the desk.
He was hustled down what seemed another endless dark
corridor, until they reached a dark square room. Sitting at
another boxy desk in the far right corner was another jolly
looking blue uniformed officer. He stood, motioned to the border
guards, and the shackles were removed. The desk officer removed
Selvane's pack and set it off to the side. He was then pressed
against a wall spread eagle and frisked. Most everything was
removed from his person and placed in a carton with the pack. The
guards produced the Gloc and knife, and placed those in the
carton too. The desk officer carried the carton over to the far
side of the room, near his desk. He pressed a button, and a large
panel of wall slid up to reveal a black gray metal box. The
carton was put into the box, and the panel slid back down. There
was a whoosh sound, and then a slight whirr from the wall. The
officer nodded to the guards, and Selvane was hustled back down
the hallway.
He was shoved back to the first room, and moved down the
other corridor, which again seemed like an eternity. They reached
what seemed to be dead end. "Chapps!" shouted one of the guards.
A door slid down behind them, and a mechanical whirr enveloped the
room.
*Elevator,* Selvane guessed, even though he didn't feel
the familiar pull of gravity associated with elevators. Soon, a
panel on the opposite side of the small box opened up, and
Selvane was again hustled down a dark corridor, same as all the
others, except every 2.5 meters there was the outline of a door,
and some characters on the wall in gray coloring of some sort.
They reached some door or other, full of symbols Selvane didn't
recognize, but assumed were his cell numbers. "Invat!" one of the
guards called out, and the door slid up. The firm grip on his
biceps was released, and Selvane was unsamarrily shoved into
small (shock!) black cell. To the left was a cot, and the right a
faucet and toilet of sorts were against the wall. All in black.
There was a mirror above these. There was a single strip of
illumination on the ceiling. The door slid down. Selvane looked
around his surroundings.
"I've been in worse prisons," he muttered, "In the old
country, this would qualify as a cheap hotel room," he chuckled
slightly to cure his own uneasiness. *Nexxus knows where I am.
She has Aristalarus. Probably going through customs right now.
Just have to wait for her to talk to her friend,* he tried to
comfort himself. It was actually his first time out of the
dimension. On Earth, you can always escape and get back home,
some way, some how. But here? Maybe the team would decide to go
after Katze, and have to list him as MIA? After all, he qualified
as a foot soldier for this op. She was the councillor. All these
doubts ran through Selvane's head, but to his credit, the ruddy
man didn't show it, *No use thinking about it. Doesn't change the
situation,* he shrugged, and laid down on the cot. About a foot
of leg hung off the end. His last thought before dreaming of his
home was characteristic, *Wish I had that Smihrnoff with me
now...*
A short time later (perhaps 20 minutes), Selvane was
woken by a the hiss of the opening door. He awoke with a start.
In the doorway was a tall man. There was a scar across his left
cheek. His black eyes dared meet the Slav's dark jade gaze. The
two locked their eyes in cold stares, penetrating, seeking. His
uniform was blue, like the desk officers, but he was missing
their jolly figure. His boots were polished to a perfect black,
and every button sparkled. His face was grim and determined, and
would not leave Selvane's stare. He was not human. The jaw came
to a distinct point, and his eyebrow ridges were low, and came
all the way up his forehead and met his short brown hair. He had
no visible facial hair, aside from eyebrows. His posture was
straight, emphasizing his well developed chest and soldiers. In
his large left hand was a small datapad.
Selvane stood, never letting up his gaze. The officer
broke the silence. In Russian, "Selvane Vladiva?" Selvane nodded,
"You are officially under arrest by Chi-Lin law enforcement for
attempted illegal entry into the city, assault of an officer of
the justice, evading arrest, reckless endangerment of the
populace of Chi-Lin, reckless behavior among heavy vehicles, and
possession of an unlicensed weapon within the city limits. Do
you understand these charges?" again Selvane nodded. "You are not
from this dimension?" he didn't wait for an answer, "What are you
doing in this place, raising hell?"
"I took a wrong turn," he answered curtly.
The officer glanced at the datapad, "This says you are an
engineer," Selvane nodded, "How does an engineer best one of our
finest guards at hand-to-hand combat after racing through a wall
of vehicles?" he squinted at the Ranger. No answer. "Why did you
race through those vehicles? What was so important that you had
to risk your life?" No answer. "Who were those three people you
spoke to?"
"If they were touched..." Selvane trailed off menacingly.
"We are searching for them now," he continued, "Why are
you really here, Mr. Vladiva?" Selvane remained resolute in his
silence. The officer huffed in disapproval, "I can see I'm
getting no where with an ingrate vigilante like yourself. You
know, this isn't helping your case," he turned toward the door
panel, "Invat!" the door slip back up. The officer turned over
his shoulder, "You should be arraigned by mid-day tomorrow," he
sneered as the door slid back down.
*Nexxus better find her friend,* Selvane thought,
slightly rattled. With the inquisitor gone, he went back to
sleep. In his dreams, the unfortunate Vladiva dreamt of the labor
camps he had seen in Siberia. The moans of the people slaving in
the gulag filled his head.
The breath of the morning;
And I keep forgetting;
The smell of the warm summer air.
I live in a town;
Where no one smells a thing;
You watch your feet;
For cracks in the pavement.
-radiohead, Subterranean Homesick Alien