#burnti

Currently, he was standing in front of the gate that blocked the hall. He’d climbed up to where it looked like there was a locking mechanism. No luck there. He was stumped for a moment until he noticed the small colored pins inset along the wall. He picked at them, poked at them, twisted, pulled. It was clear they were mechanized. If he tried hard enough, they probably could be moved by hand.

“Do you know if there’s some sort of pattern or whatever for these pins? Like, do I need to match up the blues, or…” He trailed off. He forgot she wouldn’t be much help with this. Simmo, and apparently all Montauk are colorblind. Seeing in color was something only a handful of species could do, or at least, only a handful of species in the Galactic Confederation. Maybe more could see color in the Burnti Empire. That might explain why there’s some sort of color-coding something on this stupid gate.

It took a bit, but eventually, he was able to figure out how the pins were supposed to move when the locks were engaged or disengaged. Moving the first pin out was hard - they were so small! Thankfully, due to the fact that he hadn’t had access to any clippers or files, his nails had grown long enough to pick out the pins so he could work them along their grooves and out of the way. Once he moved a few, it became easier to move the rest.

He grabbed one of the horizontal bars and pulled. It budged, but just barely. He tried again. It rose maybe two inches. Dang, this was heavier than it looked. It didn’t help either that he didn’t have much room to lift - there were two lasers he had to avoid right behind him. Mike turned around and leaned against the gate, trying to figure out the best move.

“Don’t look at me,” Simmo grumbled. “Even if there weren’t all these light sensors, I wouldn’t be much help lifting that thing. Why do you think I brought you along?”

Mike turned back to the gate. “And here I thought it was for my winning personality,” he sighed. He widened his stance and carefully squatted down to the level of the bar he needed. He’d taken a weight-lifting class once in school. He’d been pretty good at it then, and he did his best to keep good form- not that he had much choice. One wrong move and he’d set off the sensors. He grabbed the bar, locked his elbows and lifted with his legs.

Oh boy. If they got out of this, he was going to hit the gym, get back in shape!

The gate lifted enough that he could shuffle his knee under it and give his arms a break. He lifted again and repeated with his shoulders. He carefully stepped over a beam of light on the other side to try to give himself a better stance as he lowered the gate back down. The angle was a bit awkward and it slipped halfway down and slammed loudly against the floor.

Both Mike and Simmo winced involuntarily. Simmo glanced down the hall they had come before turning back to glare at Mike.

He sighed and pretended to brush it off by continuing the rest of the way over the lasers. He was glad Simmo couldn’t see his hands or legs shake, or hear how fast his heart was beating. 

He was able to maneuver the rest of the way without incident. A little stumbling, and a lot of shaking, sure, but he made it.

He let himself take a bit of a breather at the other end, shaking his legs so they’d stop feeling like jelly. “Wow,” he muttered to himself. “Always wanted to do that. Always thought it’d be more fun. Life and death situations seem to suck the fun out of everything.”

He entered the code on the panel like Simmo showed him. The laser light show sensors turned off. Mike’s mind was starting to wander as he thought of what the differences there must be between his and Simmo’s - and whoever designed these things, eyes. Why could he see the beams that were supposed to be invisible? Was it with the cones or rods in the eyes? Was it because of how the brain processed the light? He didn’t get very far in thinking though. A loud clang nearly made him jump out of his skin. The gate was raising. That was the loudest gate he’d ever heard. Why did everything always so loud when you were trying to be quiet? After getting over his initial scare, he cringed as it continued its way up loudly. He really hoped no one else was nearby. They would get caught all because of a stupid gate that desperately needed some WD40. Or whatever the Burnti used.

Simmo quickly made her way over and entered the command to restart the security protocols. Mike wasn’t keen on the idea of having the dang gate move around again, but Simmo assured him it was necessary to maintain their cover while they were in the control room. Thankfully, the mechanism that moved the gate was a lot quieter going down than it was going up.

The control room itself was not exactly what Mike had been expecting. As soon as they opened the door, he anticipated seeing a few cramped desks or tables covered with computers and monitors, star maps, electrical displays, the works. Instead, it was a rather spacious room with large decorative tapestries with several inlets and nooks along the walls. In the middle of the room was an impressively large, round computer console. A few steps away was a set of shelves storing everything from datapads, books, what looked like scrolls, and cylinder can things of various sizes and colors.

“So,” Mike drew out the word as he walked in and looked around and up. This place had a vaulted ceiling? On a spaceship? Classy. “Is this like some sort of library, or…?”

“A what?” Simmo marched immediately towards the computer console. She opened up the holographic display and began entering information.

“You know, a library,” Mike circled the room, checking out the inlets and tapestries. “A place where people keep lots of books and movies and old magazines or whatever. You can read there, or study, or research things?”

Simmo didn’t answer. She was now moving through the readouts on the display and scrolling through what didn’t seem important. Mike ran a hand over one of the tapestries. It swayed with his touch. Behind it, there was a small nook tucked away. Nice. He grabbed the tapestry again to steady it. It was huge - it hung all the way from the ceiling to the floor, and it was beautiful. He wasn’t sure the shapes on it meant anything, they were a little abstract and there were symbols he couldn’t read, but it was beautiful nonetheless. He stared at it a while longer, admiring the handiwork and skill that had gone into its creation before walked back to where Simmo was still looking up where Jeb was being held.

“Any luck?”

“He was put in the brig two levels up from us and in the rear of the ship.”

“Okay. Great! That was fast,” Mike nodded and headed toward the door. “Let’s go get him, let’s… Simmo?”

Simmo didn’t move from her spot. Her antenna flicked slightly, but she kept searching the hologram.

“Uh, Simmo, we’re on a bit of a time crunch here, let’s get a move on.”

“And how do you plan on getting out of here without a ship?”

Mike stopped. “I thought we’re taking yours.” He paused for a moment, waiting for a response. Simmo just continued swiping and searching the computer. “Do you… not know where yours is?”

“It’s been missing for about a partec now. It was supposed to be moved to bay 9 after it was done with some repairs, but it never showed up. Rozar told me to not worry about it, that the repairs were probably just taking longer than expected. Thing is, he never checked into it further. Every time I try to do so myself, I never have clearance.”

Mike’s stomach dropped. That didn’t sound good. They had to find the Junk Lego, it had to be somewhere.

He stepped over to Simmo to help her look. He couldn’t really read many of the symbols on the display but moving felt like something he could do. He needed something to do, needed some way to help. Before he could get far, however, he heard the loud gate outside the corridor being raised again.

“Simmo, someone’s coming! We know where they’re keeping Jeb, let’s get out of here! We’ll figure out where your ship is later.”

But Simmo didn’t move from her spot. Files and reports continued coming up and she kept sifting through each one at incredible speed. Mike stepped closer to her, sizing up how best to grab her and pull her along in a way that wouldn’t end up with him getting cut up by her sharp hands. Suddenly, the screen froze. Mike glanced at the topmost file on display. He still couldn’t read it, and for several tense moments, Simmo couldn’t stop reading it.

“Simmo,” Mike ground out. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears and all this standing around business was beginning to feel torturous. They had to hide!

“My ship,” Simmo whispered without taking her eyes off the display. “It’s gone.”

The loud clanging noises of the gate stopped. Shoot. Mike looked back at Simmo. She must have heard it, even with the control room door being closed. She was still fixated on the screen.

“Simmo!” Mike hissed through his teeth. The voices were right outside the door now, muffled and talking quietly, but getting closer.

Mike slapped at the screen’s controls, shutting it down and all but tackled Simmo and dragged her behind the tapestry. Just in time too - the tapestry was still moving and swaying a bit when the door slid open. Thankfully, the new arrivals were too deep in their conversation to notice. Mike didn’t dare look around to see who it was, but he could swear he recognized the voice of one of the speakers.

“This is not what my people were told,” a silvery voice entered the room. “We’ve waited long enough. The Burnti aren’t the only ones with whom we can make deals.”

“We’ll have the truminium soon now that the Galactic Confederation out of our way.”

Mike shrunk back farther. He knew that second voice. Commander Rozar had one of those very distinct voices.

“That’s been partecs now. You’ve sure been taking your time since,” the silvery voice countered. “Having too much time with your galactic streamings about your little prizes, perhaps?”

Mike tentatively inched to the edge to get a look, being careful to not be seen. Sure enough, there was that grand, feathered sloth jerk himself, talking to an alien Mike had never seen before. She looked very catlike. Larger than a booka, but larger and with a much longer torso with thick spotted gray fur and long antenna-like whiskers all over her body. She was standing on her hind legs, or maybe standing was too generous a term. It was more like she was balancing on her back legs. It’s long, thick tail helped to keep her balanced.

Mike ducked back behind the tapestry. ”What ith that?” he lisped to try to avoid being overheard.

Simmo leaned over to peer around the corner. “Priso. They’re not with the Burnti. They’re from some coalition near the Green Mallak nebula.” “Ok. That doesthn’t help. I have no idea what any of that ith.” 

Simmo made some sort of gesture that Mike had to assume was Montauk sign language for ‘shut up.’ 

Rozar and the priso hadn’t yet noticed they weren’t alone. The priso had said something which caused Rozar to flatten the feathers at the back of his head cooly. “If you’re going to be keeping up with your delightful attitude, you can always spend another cycle or two in a cell.”

The priso shot him an icy glare. “Your diplomacy leaves much to be desired.”

“And what, do tell, are you going to do about it? Complain about me to your superiors? I’m sure they’d applaud the lengths I’ve gone to not outright strangle you.” The priso’s fur ruffled. “Is that a threat?”

“No,” Rozar said calmly, “a statement. Though I’m sure many of your superiors wouldn’t mind if it were. I’m surprised you don’t hear more of them.”

The priso’s ears went flat against her skull, the same with its whisker-like antenna. She bared her teeth and let out a low growl.

“Oh do calm down, Sitran my dear,” Rozar sighed. “That’s what got you in trouble before.” He turned to the computer console and pulled up the display. Mike tensed. He hoped that whatever Simmo had been looking at before wasn’t still there, or if it was, it wouldn’t tip Rozar off that something was wrong. Thankfully, the display had reset itself when they closed it down in their rush.

“Ah, here we are,” Rozar looks closely at the display before turning toward a set of shelves. Picking up a datapad, he activated the display and handed it to the angry priso. “Perhaps this will help allay some ill will. This datapad should include the pertinent communications we’ve had with Earth. Or at least with the governments that have been expressing an interest.”

Sitran took it and began scrolling through with a paw. Her ears came forward and the offended expression on her face melted away into a mix of curiosity and wonder. “These are just the ones that...” she continued to scroll. “How many governments does Earth have?!”

Rozar stepped back toward the main computer console chuckling lightly. “My understanding is that humans just wandered around their planet. When they got too far from each other, they started doing their own things, made their own cultures, formed new languages, and even their widespread appearances changed in some cases to adapt to new environments. In short, there are enough for everyone to share.”

Mike felt a mix of confusion, alarm, and anger. He wished he could just step out there and wipe that smug look right off Rozar’s face. Like he knew anything important about humans! What was that jerk planning?

Rozar,still very much unaware of Mike and Simmo’s presence, was very much enjoying showing off his human-related knowledge.

“There’s a file with everything you need near the top. Several files actually. I’d recommend reviewing the health and safety files thoroughly. There are things you wouldn’t think would pose a health hazard. You wouldn’t want to get something in your paw broken during a customary human hand greeting.”

Simmo leaned into Mike’s ear, “Please tell me that’s not a real thing.”

Mike turned back to her and thought for a moment. “Uh, handshake? I think he’s talking about handshake-th. That’th tho dumb. They don’t hurt”

Simmo didn’t look comforted in the slightest. 

The priso was still looking through the files, fascinated. Her wide eyes were darting across the screen. “I thought most of this was just rumor. Humans sure don’t mess around, do they?”

“Oh no. They certainly do,” Rozar corrected. “That’s part of the problem with working with them. But I imagine that if the Galactic Confederation has been successful at integrating them, then it’s obviously manageable. The rewards vastly outweigh the risks, as you can see in the next file.”

Simmo leaned into Mike’s ear again. “I want a copy of that datapad.”

Mike pushed her face away from his and peeked back out.

“You’ll want to read through the behavioral files as well,” Rozar had now moved over near Sitran and was pointing out the folder in question. “We’ve tried to log as much information as extensively as we can, but it’s very much an ongoing endeavor. Our own humans have been exceptionally-”

The door slid open again. Mike jumped back a bit out of habit to avoid detection. He didn’t really need to, the new arrivals, a pair of yellow guards immediately rushed in and saluted Rozar.

“Commander,” the shorter of the pair rushed, she sounded like she was out of breath, “We have apprehended a ship, sir.”

“The escaped prisoners?”

“No sir, a Galactic Confederation ship.” That got Rozar’s full attention. 

Rozar ignored a quirked look from Sitran. “Come again? A Galactic Confederation ship?”

“Yes sir, we were in pursuit of the escaped prisoners and they came out of nowhere sir. By the time we had them, the prisoners had gone to hyperspeed.” “A diversion perhaps?” Sitran mused.

“Quite possible. Two of the three missing prisoners were Confederation officers, I believe.” Rozar’s tail swayed dramatically from side to side, red and purple feathers brushed lightly on the floor. “They helped them get away and let themselves be captured. We’ll know for sure after we’ve interrogated them. And then we’ll make an example of them for the rest of the meddlesome Confederation fools.”

The guards suddenly looked rather sheepish. “Ah, yes, about that,” the second, taller guard started. Rozar snapped his head towards him, which only disconcerted the guard more. “Their ship is still in docking bay 4, but they themselves… aren’t.”

Rozar stared at the pair of them silently for what seemed like forever. Mike leaned out a bit more from behind the tapestry.

“They aren’t… what?” Rozar nearly spat.

The guards shifted uncomfortably. “They… aren’t on their ship anymore. Ah, a few moments after the air seal locks disengaged, three of them rushed the doors and were able to break through the ranks. They, ah, well they are now loose aboard the Arum Bloom, sir.”

Silence.

“They... broke the ranks?”

“Ah, yes… sir. The guards were not prepared for them to leave their ship like that, or leave willingly at all. Several have had to be taken to the infirmary. Two granims have serious concussions and are in critical condi-.”

“How many?”

“Uh, sir?”

“How many Galactic Confederation soldiers are now running amok on my ship?”

The first guard paused nervously. The second piped up, “From the reports we’ve received, there are three, sir.”

Rozar stepped away from the computer console and began pacing slowly, sharp claws clacking against his jaw. Mike slipped a bit back behind his hiding spot as Rozar walked by. The Burnti Fleet Commander had his eyes closed, sure, but he still felt dangerous. Mike could feel the anger and tension building up. He was pretty sure everyone in the room could. Even Simmo, who had barely moved from her hiding spot at all, scooted almost imperceptibly closer to Mike’s side.

“Three.” Rozar sighed deeply. “Three soldiers were able to ‘break your ranks,’ injure several guards, and avoid capture?” Rozar stopped in front of the guards, his feathers puffed out a bit as he arched his neck to look down at the guards. “Please illuminate to me how, by all that is bright and shining, three soldiers were able to, thus far, elude you all.”

Mike did not envy the guards’ position. He knew it was silly, they were Burnti- his captors- but part of him even felt a little bad for them.

One of them, the second one, managed to gather a bit more courage and straighten up. “Two of them were human sir.” 

Mike gasped. Simmo glowered at him.

No one must have heard, thankfully, because the guard continued, “We had scanned their ship as we brought them aboard, but something was interfering with the scan. Before we could completely set up for boarding protocols, two humans and a booka attacked and got away.”

“Well, Commander,” Sitran drawled out dramatically, “It seems you certainly are busy. I can make sure my superiors take this,” he closed the display of the datapad, “as a gift of good faith for the truminium trade, shall I?”

Rozar made a sound that was a mix between a grunt and a growl.

Sitran walked toward the door. The two guards hesitated, unsure if they should try to stop her or not.

“I’ll just see myself out then,” Sitran stepped around them and toward the door, calling back smugly, “Don’t worry, I remember where my ship is, unless of course it’s been moved or stolen in all the commotion lately.”

Mike ducked back to hiding as Rozar stormed by. He was definitely growling now. After a moment, he heard the blips and hums of the computer console as he pulled up the report readouts the guards had brought him. More reports were sent in as the search for the intruders went on.

Simmo quietly thunked her head against the wall. “They are never going to leave. We need to get out of here,” she hissed under her breath.

“There are humans,” Mike whispered back. “They’ve probably come to rescue us!”

“Two humans. Two humans came. Oh, and a booka. Great.” Simmo started to roll her eyes but stopped herself once she realized what she was doing. “Against everyone else aboard the Arum Bloom? They’re idiots for coming at all.”

Mike sighed and leaned to spy on what the other occupants in the room were doing, but before he could, Simmo grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back.

“Now look here you little monster,” her face was right in Mike’s again, “don’t you go getting any stupid ideas. We’re getting out of here as soon as we can. I agreed to take you, Wenona, and for some reason, Jebannuck, but I draw the line there. We are not risking our plans to save more humans on a doomed mission.”

Mike smiled. “Aw, Simmo, you said our plan. Like we’re a team,” he teased. Simmo hissed quietly and pushed him back. It’d been a soft push, sure, but as Mike stepped back from it, he tripped over his other foot and stumbled back, landing on his butt past the tapestry.

He froze. He felt like he could feel every. Single. Heartbeat.

Frewan.

He turned his head to the middle of the room. Maybe Rozar hadn’t seen. Maybe he’d had his back turned and didn’t notice.

Yeah, no such luck.

Rozar stared back at him, surprise coloring his wide golden eyes.

After a few tense heartbeats, the two guards finally snapped out of their shock and pulled their blasters, leveling them right at Mike. 

Before any of them could react further, the control room door opened again. A huge hairy mass raced towards Mike. Booming barks felt like they were shaking the entire room.

“No one shoot!” a familiar voice commanded. “Put your weapons down!”

Mike had his hands full of massive, hairy, very excited dog. By the time he was able to sit back up and wipe the slobber off his face, Wenona had disarmed the guards and was handing their weapons to Jebannuck. She kept her blaster pointed directly at Rozar, but carefully, her eyes wandered to where Mike was trying to settle down Carson.

“Oh, Mike,” her voice bounced cheerily, “I’m glad you’re still alive. Because I’m about ready to kill you.” She dropped the smile. “Where have you been?!”

“Uh,” Mike stood back up, “with Simmo.” He motioned for her to step out from behind the tapestry. She was hesitant, but as soon as Mike had acknowledged her, Carson started sniffing. Then growling. Mike stroked the dog’s head. “It’s ok boy, she’s a friend.” Which earned a simultaneous scoff from Simmo and a quiet “Well…” from Jebannuck.

Simmo cautiously took a step out from behind the tapestry. Carson sniffed eagerly at her while Mike held his collar.

“What is that thing?!”

“That’s Carson,” Mike scratched the dog’s ears. “He’s our unofficial pet until we can get him home to his real owners back on Earth.”

Simmo’s antenna were flat against her head and her mandibles clicked quietly, but she didn’t stop the canine and instead stood stiffly, waiting for it to be over. When Carson was done, he huffed loudly and stood resolutely between Simmo and Mike.

“Simmo,” Rozar’s voice broke the tense silence, “I assume I’m to hold you responsible for at least most of this mess.”

“Quite likely.”

Rozar looked like he was trying to kill Simmo just by glaring at her. He looked like he might say more, but Jebannuck spoke first. “Simmo, are you the one who opened the cells?”

Simmo tilted her head stiffly. “Yeah, whatever. You’re welcome.”

Jebannuck stared at her. “You opened the entire cell block. There were more than just prisoners in there. You almost got me killed.”

“If I’d known it was your cell block, believe me, I would have found another distraction.”

Mike waved them both down. “Okay, fine, it’s fine. I mean, now we don’t need to break Jebannuck out.” Simmo made a long grunting noise and looked away. Mike looked at her, but shook his head and chose to ignore whatever she meant by that. They were together now, and they had to act quickly. “Simmo, you said something earlier about your ship?”

Simmo looked to Rozar who gave the smallest hint of a grin.

“It’s gone.” Simmo clenched her sharp claws. Mike, Jeb, and Wenona glanced at each other. Simmo only had eyes for Rozar Silence. Finally, Wenona, still aiming a blaster at his chest, took a warning step closer.

Rozar sighed. “The parts were useful. Plus,” he sneered, “we didn’t want you getting any bright ideas. Apparently, I was right to be concerned.”

“So we steal another ship. We get out of here,” Wenona said matter-of-factly.

Jebannuck shook his head. “That may be impossible. They’ll have increased guard duty since the last prisoners did that.” “We can take them, we have the blasters.”

“We don’t need to.” Mike jumped in. “There’s a ship, a Galactic Confederation ship.” He nodded at Rozar. “I overheard them earlier.”

“Yeah,” Simmo scoffed, “with its crew now wandering somewhere on the ship.”

Rozar chuckled. Wenona readjusted her aim on him that had been slipping during the conversation. “So what will you do now? Will you steal their ship and save yourselves, or will you get yourselves captured by trying to find them?”

“Shut up, Rozar, no one asked you.” Wenona gave him her iconic glare.

“Shoot him,” Simmo growled. “We don’t need him overhearing our plans so he can stop us once we leave.”

“And give the Burnti a reason to go to war against the Galactic Confederation?” Jebannuck countered. “He’s not just some guard, he’s a fleet commander, and we wouldn’t be doing it in self-defense!”

Wenona sighed and looked back at Jeb. “We can’t just leave him either.”

Rozar used the momentary distraction and dove behind the computer console. Wenona shot a blast which barely missed him as he went, brushing over the feather tips of his tail. Carson barked wildly, pulling Mike who was still holding his collar with him a few steps before Mike could regain footing.

The entire control room erupted with noise and no small amount of panic. The guards, even without weapons, rushed them in order to protect their commander. Wenona swore and tried to move to get another shot at Rozar, but her limp slowed her down. Jeb was able to shoot one of the guards, but the other crashed into Wenona and both of them fell to the floor.

Carson was still barking wildly but was now trying to pull Mike along to defend Wenona. He let go of the dog’s collar and yelled to Jeb to throw him one of the spare blasters. The guard that had attacked Wenona screamed as Carson bit its arm.

A loud tonal beep blared from speakers that must have been installed in the walls or ceiling. Rozar’s voice echoed in the room, outside in the hall, and Mike assumed, everywhere in the ship, “This is Fleet Commander Rozar. Humans have escaped. Armed and dangerous. Kill on sight.”

Mike felt like a bucket of ice water had just been dumped on him. We need to go. We need to go! WE NEED TO GO! He wasn’t sure if he had yelled any of that as he rushed forward and pulled Carson off the alien guard who quickly scrambled away holding its arm tightly to try to stop the purple blood from where they’d been bitten.

Simmo picked up one of the dropped blasters and tried a few more shots towards the computer console at Rozar as Jeb helped Wenona to her feet. She stumbled and gasped in pain.

“For my ship!” Simmo roared as she blasted away at the console. “For my crew!” She rushed the side to get a better angle. Mike couldn’t see if she got him or not as he struggled to pull Carson towards the door. He wished he had some sort of leash to help guide the dog away from the now-cowering guard and toward the door. 

“Carson, come!” The dog grudgingly let Mike pull him along.

Jebannuck was trying to pick up Wenona who was almost bent over with pain.

“What’s wrong?” Mike yelled. “What happened?”

“No time, hold this,” Jeb handed him an extra blaster so he could lift Wenona over his shoulder, using his now free hand to hold her in place as he ran to the door. “Simmo,” he shouted back, “We’re leaving! NOW!”

The montauk was already at his side. She frowned as they headed for the door, “What’s wrong with her?”

Jebannuck didn’t answer immediately. He led the way down the corridor and paused at the next turn. “Did either of you happen to overhear where the Confederation ship is being held?”

Mike thought back for a moment, trying to remember. “Docking bay 4,” He turned to Simmo. “Do you know where that is?”

Simmo paused then nodded and took the lead down the corridor.