The crew was in a panic, because on the horizon appeared FIRE (Frontier Interdiction & Royal Enforcement). Wilder winced hard against the blinding light directed straight into his face. The detention went off without a hitch, no one put up a fight. And why would they? Wilder insisted it was nothing more than a routine document check. However, the border guards hadn't said anything of the sort. Crew sat in handcuff, not entirely certain what awaited them. During processing, the paperwork hadn't revealed anything unusual, but that wasn't a reason for release—rather, it was a signal to begin a complete interrogation. The Great Destiny only knew what FIRE actually did, but most of the time, they were just scoring political points for the King. The political system here was a total mess: part kingdom, part state. Even the aliens couldn't explain it, let alone me. Perhaps this special unit used to be cooks who prepared meals over an open flame, in the distant past or maybe they were busy combatting a case of heartburn. Just accept it as fact: it's special imigration patrol. This unit answers directly to the King. While the Fleet also serves the Crown, they do so through middlemen like an Admiral.
The Royal Enforcement spends its time rounding up everyone they find near the cosmic border. Using your status or demanding a lawyer this far from the Red Planet is useless. Anna tried anyway—and immediately received a shock from a taser. These guys have a stamped permit for "super-authority." With hard, chitins restraints on their wrists and ankles, the crew was brought to the Admiralty Flotilla—a huge vessel turned into a mobile headquarters in a thousand times more than Main CP-01.. There, their "rights" were read to them:
"Listen up. You are detained by FIRE forces. Any resistance to personnel, even an accidental sneeze, will be recorded in the protocol as an attempted biological attack on an officer."
"In what thenthe?" Gabriel's eyes went wide.
"In the germ sense!" the guard barked, striking the pilot sharply on the elbow. "Shut your trap and don't you dare spread your filth in here."
An officer with an unreadable face added:
"Your rights are as follows: to breathe, to walk, and to sleep. The list ends there. Your duties: to obey. Forward march!"
No one tried to crack a joke; everyone understood how dangerous a fool with power could be. Steps echoed heavily in the long corridors. Neon lines along the walls flickered and dimmed, having gone decades without repair. The soldier escorting them limped and broke into a dry cough, while the alien at the rear tried to maintain a serious mask, though he looked like a Pomeranian with a sad smile forced onto its face. The crew was literally tossed into an interrogation cell with a cold floor and wall. One could also feel the sharp hardness of the benches; fortunately, the team never found out just how cold the ceiling could get.
To say they looked hopeless would be putting it mildly. A heavy silence hung over the small room; nobody dared to raise their voice. You know, you could strain your back that way, because the guards would make sure you caught hell for it. Gabriel reached out toward Cheddar again, searching for even a drop of pity, but the veteran merely brushed him off in irritation. Anna, arms crossed over her chest, stared angrily at the ceiling. The only one maintaining a strange kind of a smile was Sam. As for Phoebe, she shrugged without caring—as if to say, you see the mess we're in—and began rhythmically tapping her feet. Wilder scanned the eyes of the aliens. In his own team, he searched for support, for hope, for a behavioral sign, and in the FIRE soldiers he looked for a warm glow. But they only wanted to burn a hole in the crew. The doors swung open with a clang. An officer entered with a tired, grey face.
"Sir, your further instructions?" the FIRE soldiers barked together.
"Resume patrolling. What have we here?"
"Illegal attempt to cross the border, sir."
"We possess a legal permit to be in this sector... sir!" Wilder spoke up.
"We refuse to speak without a lawyer!" Anna immediately seized the initiative.
The officer, clearly in a bad mood, didn't even look at her.
"I see. I'll only speak with their commander. The rest to the hold."
Wilder was dumped onto a hard chair like a rag doll, his handcuffs finally removed. A tablet containing the detention order was shoved into his hands. The rest of the crew had already been marched away; no one resisted the lasting sting of the electric prods was still fresh in their muscles. Wilder stared at the screen, frozen. On what grounds could he build a defense? Freedom of speech? Freedom of movement? The right to life? In this sector of space, such concepts sounded like a sick joke.
"So, why did you decide to cross such a dangerous border, young alien?" the officer grumbled, his voice full of irritation.
"We represent an expedition hired by Dr. Brans to study a cosmic anomaly," Wilder replied, his voice trembling but exact. "Here is the document package proving our official status and the mission's goals."
The officer's eyebrows shot up. He snatched the papers and began to scan them eagerly. With every passing second, his expression changed from boredom to a little bit growing simple smile. He adopted a calm expression, as solid as the rough wall behind him.
"And Dr. Brans is aware of this?" the interrogator asked without looking up.
"Indeed. His official seal and verified signature are present on the main directive."
"Strange..." The officer rubbed his chin. "The Kingdom never gave him permission for research in this section."
"However, he started a transparent, public competition!" Wilder countered.
"No one stopped him from holding contests. But crossing the border for your own 'safety'—that is strictly forbidden."
Wilder paused, his mind racing through the possibilities.
"Was he fully informed of the potential risks? What is the logic behind hiring aliens openly for such a sensitive and dangerous task? It strikes me as a significant strategic mistake."
The officer thought about this for a moment, then looked at Wilder with a cold, mocking grin.
"If you're so curious about the plans he had for you... we can set up a meeting.
"Please accept my apologies, but are you planning to send us back...."
"Guards! Take him to Cell Two."
Wilder was lifted up by his shoulders and dragged through a series of stairs. It all happened so fast he couldn't see the guards' faces or understand what had suddenly put the officer in such a good mood. One moment he was being interrogated; the next, he was lying on a dirty floor in front of a pair of highly polished boots. Let's just say they definitely weren't licked, but Wilders lips toched it. Ha!
"Yo, kid! There you are. We've already had a little chat with your friends... if they still consider themselves such."
Wilder didn't need to lift his head to recognize that voice. That single "Yo!" was enough. Mr. Abraham seemed to be stuck to him forever now, like a shadow first at Brans' office, then at the restaurant, and now here. But before the question of how he'd ended up here could even form, a horrible noise echoed from the side. It was the sound of the chitin, the material the cell bars were made of, grinding as if a predator inside were trying to claw its way to its prey.
"Wilder, you son of a bitch! Get over here so I can break your face!" the "beast" behind the bars roared.
"Ann, calm down now, for mercy's sake! That's more than enough!" Sam's holding her and tried to reason with her, his voice trembling.
"Get off me, Sam! Just let me get my hands on that idiot's hair!"
Anna was beside herself with rage. She gripped the hard bars, and the entire cage shook. Sam was tossed into Gabriel's clutches like a girl's throwing her Satisfyer... okay, that's a joke, they're actually tidy in that regard, they put things back where they belong. Although, whatever, why am I starting a gender war here? Ahem. Sam was tossed into Gabriel's clutches like a messy girl's throwing her Satisfyer, one who lived in a total pigsty. She'd come, she had no more use for it, and now bits of lint and fluff were going to stick to the device on the flor for next.
"I gave my whole life to those idiots—George and Stoltz! I thought if I didn't quit, I'd actually achieve something... And then their moron son goes and rejects the patent!" She shook the bars with huge strength. "Just let me get even! Let me get even!"
The scene in Wilder's cell was pure chaos. Every time Anna pushed her arm through the bars, Wilder's cellmates jumped into the opposite corner in a panic, trying to stay out of her reach. Wilder crawled just as quickly, while his three "roommates" moved together on the oposite him to stay clear of the strike zone.
Guards rushed over at the sound of the screaming, primal fear visible in their eyes. Anna, hit with an electric shock meant to stop her, seemed to only get energy from it. With a wild cry, she tore a piece of the hard partition free and threw it at Wilder. He ducked just in time, but one of his cellmates, making a mistake about where to run, failed to dodge. The heavy fragment smashed into his knee. A sickening crunch followed—perhaps the only clear sound amidst the flood of curses. Only then did they give a hard dose of sedative to Anna and drag her off to solitary.
But silence didn't follow. One of the troopers, fueled by the adrenaline of the brawl, stormed into the cell of the others and began beating them without choosing who—specifically those in Anna's sector. He moved step by step and with hate, landing blows with his buttstock and baton. Phoebe took a hit to the solar plexus and folded in half; Gabriel was pinned into a corner, a rain of blows falling on his ribs. There was only the sound of wheezing, the whistle of air, and the guard's heavy breathing. When he finally stopped, a painful silence fell over the block. He turned toward Wilder with a sick smile and said:
"Don't worry, Wilder. I won't let anyone touch you." Then his gaze shifted to Sam, who was huddled in the corner. "Oh, hello there, neighbor Samuel! How's mine mumy? Hasn't left the stepfather yet?"
"She's fine, Bucks. They're living close by, seem to have settled in, not barking at each other..." Sam reached out and shook his hand with a trembling claw. "You've filled out in the shoulders, kid. Growing into a real alien."
"It's the army, Mr. Samuel. Tell that bastard: if he touches my mother, I'll rip his head off. And you lot stay quiet and wait for the deportation order. I have a feeling you're being sent back under guard. Ha-ha!"
Bucks headed for the exit, but a sob came from the corner:
"Sir... I think my leg is broken. Can I see a doctor?"
"Oh, poor Chedder... did Anna hurt you like that?" Gabriel rushed to the injured alien. "Thee, Wildy, where your dethithion led uth? Now we have no Anna, no future. Hold on, my love..."
"Go to hell, you gigolo!" Cheddar snapped. "I need a doctor!"
"Not allowed!" Bucks barked, slamming the heavy door shut.