Three Square Meals Ch. 096

The shuttle drifted closer to the second largest of those planetary fragments, energy signals kept to a minimum to make it invisible to sensors. Hidden behind a massive jagged outcropping of rock was an unlit docking bay and the pilot guided the craft inside with practiced familiarity. Touching down in the centre of the bay, a muted path of red lights flickered to life, highlighting a route to the reinforced secondary airlock door in the rough-hewn wall.

Admiral Weber walked briskly down the exit ramp, pulling on his peaked hat and adjusting it so it fit squarely on his head. He was accompanied by a pair of heavily armed and armoured special forces soldiers, who flanked him as he strode up to the airlock. Placing his hand on the DNA reader, the panel flashed green as it recognised his genetic code and the airlock door spiralled open. The next room was festooned with Gatling Laser turrets embedded in the walls and they tracked him as he crossed the floor.

Even though he was fully authorised to be in this base and had visited many times, he still felt a shiver of fear when he walked through its impregnable defences. However, he was a cautious man when it mattered and could appreciate that these extra precautions were necessary. After passing through a second security door, he walked over an extendable bridge, knowing that more turrets hidden in the gloom were following his every move.

He travelled deeper and deeper into the facility, nodding to the grizzled special forces troops who had been tasked with defending this installation. There were over two-hundred soldiers in the garrison, every man a hardened veteran. Fleet Admiral Buckingham had taken no chances with establishing this base, where he kept all his dirty little secrets... secrets that Carl Weber had been protecting for years.

They finally reached the end of the security rooms and a man in a spotless white lab coat greeted him with a sardonic smile. "Welcome back to Tartarus, Admiral."

Tartarus was not the official name for the facility of course, but some dry-witted soldier had come up with the moniker and it had stuck.

Weber acknowledged the researcher with a curt nod. "I'm here to inspect the latest acquisitions, Professor Friedrich."

"Of course, if you'd care to follow me," the researcher replied, pushing his spectacles further up his thin nose.

Weber glanced at his escort, who snapped to attention. "Wait here until I return."

Setting off into the facility with his guide, they took an elevator down to the central testing compound. They entered a cold, wide, brightly lit corridor, with numerous weapon turrets spaced evenly along its length. Set into the walls were large glass panels, each one interspersed by imposing looking-security doors, the metal frames reinforced with three-inch thick titanium bars.

There was movement inside each of those dimly-lit rooms, just enough light cast on the inhabitants to make out their inhuman forms. Weber curled his lip in distaste, then kept his eyes set rigidly forwards as they strode along the detention area.

Friedrich paused half-way along the corridor, then swiped his hand over the interface implant installed in his forearm. A holographic display projected upwards and he pressed a glowing icon. "Here we have the first specimen," he said, turning to his right as floodlights shone down on the occupant of the cell.

Weber winced against the glare, his eyes having to adjust to the bright light. Inside the room was a voluptuous brunette wearing skimpy lingerie, who paced nervously from one side of the room to the other. He couldn't help admiring her impressive physique, even knowing what he was staring at.

"You'd never believe she wasn't a Terran, would you?" the researcher said with a smile. He pushed an icon on the panel and the lights dimmed, the view through the window now cast in blues and reds. The woman's body was shown as a warm orange. "But her body temperature is several degrees cooler."

"That's fascinating, Professor, but I'm more interested in her psychological makeup at the moment," Weber said, staring at the pacing Nymph through the window.

"She keeps requesting that she be reunited with her master," Friedrich said with a dry chuckle. He glanced at Weber. "I assume you have no intention of ever allowing that to happen?"

Weber shook his head. "We need to command their absolute loyalty. Is there a way to transfer her focus to someone else?"

"You wish to adopt that role perhaps?" Friedrich asked airily. When Weber sneered at him in contempt, the researcher paused then answered the Admiral's original question, "Yes, it is possible. From my research into the history of the Lenarrans, I believe she requires a vocal relinquishing of ownership from her current master."

Grimacing at that thought, Weber shook his head. "That would be inconvenient to arrange. Any alternatives?"

"Her master's death," Friedrich stated with blunt finality. "Lenarrans possess innate psychic connections to their masters. If he dies, she will be receptive to a new owner."

"Interesting..." Weber mused. "Is the other one in a similar state?"

"Other two," Friedrich corrected him, turning and walking towards the next room.

He made some more adjustments to the holo-panel and the previous cell dimmed as the next brightened. The next Lenarran was very slim and petite, her flaxen hair in bunches as she stood before them in a gingham dress.

Weber shook his head in disgust; he knew exactly who this Lenarran had been taken from. It was always the ones who crowed the loudest about what upstanding citizens they were, who harboured the darkest of perversions. "This one will be masterless by tomorrow," he said curtly and kept on walking. "You said there was one more?"

"Delivered just this morning," Friedrich replied, illuminating the next cell.

The final Lenarran had almost comically exaggerated proportions, with a titanic bust, a huge behind and utterly indecent lips that formed a lewd pout.

Weber took one glance and snorted. "They're aliens for God's sake! Their owners are depraved!"

Friedrich simply shrugged, having no morals to outrage. "The extraction team believes there is a strong possibility of a fourth in existence, the lead does seem authentic. If so, we hope to have her secured in Tartarus within the next couple of days." He hesitated for a moment, then added, "Must we wait until then for invasive testing? I see no reason to postpone it..."

Weber paused then shook his head. "Buckingham's orders... he wants the full set captured before you begin testing."

"I suppose it is prudent," Friedrich mused. "More subjects are always preferable to establish a baseline, especially if there are any accidents during testing..."

Weber rounded on him angrily. "You've been granted permission to perform surgery and take as many samples as you need, but I'll take a very dim view if any of them are permanently damaged. We need to find a way of breeding more of them and we've only got four!"

Friedrich nodded, lost in thought. "I have a number of interesting specimens we could try cross-breeding them with. Do you have any objections to using Kirrix?"

"Kirrix?!" Weber blurted out in alarm. "That'll kill them, surely!"

"I don't believe so," Friedrich replied, glancing at the Lenarran in the adjacent cell. "They seem to have limited regenerative capabilities. It will certainly be excruciatingly painful, but they should survive..."

"Only if you can guarantee they'll live, Professor," Weber cautiously agreed.

"I believe that will be the case, yes," Friedrich said, pushing his glasses up his nose, a smile of anticipation spreading across his face. "A Kirrix-Lenarran hybrid would be fascinating to see!"

Weber was about to admonish the man to limit his science experiments to work that would actually be pertinent to their project, but he hesitated as he considered the idea; hybrids might actually be an interesting avenue of research. He glanced at the next cell along, seeing another female form in the dim light. "I thought you said there were only three so far?"

"Ah, but she isn't a Lenarran," Friedrich said with a wicked smile.

They walked along to the next room and he activated the bright overhead lighting, the woman inside holding up an arm to shade her eyes. The dark-skinned girl marched up to the window and thumped it with her fist. "Let me out, you bastards! I have rights! You can't do this!"

Friedrich chuckled. "Very spirited, isn't she?"

Weber's eyes narrowed as he recognised the TFNN reporter. "Have you begun the interrogation yet?"

"Not yet," the researcher replied with a shrug. "Another couple of days without food and only minimal water should make her far more cooperative."

Weber stared at the dusky-hued beauty, watching her heaving bust as she glared furiously at the one-way window. He felt the stirrings of arousal as he admired her nubile body, until he remembered that she was almost certainly one of Blake's whores. The thought of a beautiful Terran girl like her willingly consorting with an alien turned his stomach.

"Keep me informed," he said, turning away from the window, having lost all sympathy for the Xeno-lover. "We need to find out everything she knows about John Blake."

"Don't worry, she'll be desperate to talk," Friedrich assured him, a disturbing glimmer in his bespectacled eyes.