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Prisoners of Sol 67
🕑 Added 2025-08-23 11:00:11 +0000 UTCEarth Space Union’s Alien Asset Files: #1 - Private Capal
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As the bandit rushed my friend, his only instinct was to return the favor. The humans were charging each other like opposing vehicles seeing who would swerve away first; a collision was inevitable, when neither would blink. Dawson raced full speed ahead toward our mystery Brigand, but was clotheslined as he drove his knee into our adversary’s sternum.
It all happened too fast for either party to react, and their precog most likely canceled each other’s out. That, or when the engagement was happening so fast, there wasn’t time to stop a blow even when they knew it was coming. Mr. Fields’ legs continued forward for a few seconds after he got his bell rung, gaining enough rotational force to flip through the air several times. The stray knee the Brigand took to his chest sent him launching upward through the ceiling, like a Sol rocket. He cannonballed back through the floor, ripping it to splinters, and landed hard.
Ficrae took the opportunity to menace the prisoners, while the humans duked it out. “The beauty of mathematics is the ability to place a minus sign within an equation: to remove an exact quantity from play. What happens if I subtract you fleshbags?”
“Then they subtract us if Dawson doesn’t win. Does he look like a fighter to you? Any thoughts on that probability?” Redge hissed.
I pressed my paws to my head. “Are you sure either of them are walking that off? Dawson’s head is planted in the ground like a seed—and he landed on it!”
Both of them chanced a brief glance away from the prisoners, to see that Dawson had gone face first into the floor; he was literally upside-down and sticking upright like a signpost with staunch placement in the dirt. All it needed was for Larimak to traipse in and put the monarchy’s threaded banner around his legs, and it’d feel just like home. I thought about going to try to help him out, but saw the Brigand starting to stand, nursing his ribs. The pirate had taken a drubbing to his internal organs, smacking the floor from that height, but it was the tile that shattered.
That’s not good. Come on, Dawson, get up!
I fired a bullet at the Brigand, which finally hit something—but just scraped off a layer of skin on his arm like rugburn. “Hey, creature with ears looking like sad leaves: you know, being on the side of your head like an open car door! Turn around!”
“What kind of a fucking insult is that?” the human cursed, turned around with smoldering eyes. “Punk, I could literally drive my fist through your throat like a blowtorch and rip out your tongue. You better think long and hard—”
“You have hair over your eyes. Like a pathetic umbrella! Ha ha! Ugly!” Hirri cawed from the ship.
Jetti looked mortified, but stepped in front of her son to shield him. “Y-yeah. Your nose looks like a bargain store tent that sticks out of your face; it was stapled on as an afterthought. And that Adam apple’s thing: your neck has more of a bulge than your pants!”
Jetti said that in front of Hirri? I didn’t even know she had it in her, wow.
“Your skin looks like melted candle wax that got rolled over your bones and stretched too thin. You…have fingernails that aren’t even sad claws; they’re just little pieces of cardboardy drywall that’s crustier than my asshole,” I prodded the seething Brigand.
“Hey!” The cry was muffled. Dawson managed to rotate his legs by digging through the floor, clawing out a wider opening. He wriggled his backside to drag himself back out, until he could push himself out with an “Oomph” and a shove with his arms. Blood dripped from his nostrils, forming a lightning-shaped line on his stubbly upper lip. “Is that really what y’all think about my species?!”
“I think…a good Vascar facelift is always an option. We could make your features more complimentary to that scrumptious precog of yours.”
“My precog is scrumptious, Capal? We’re gonna have words about this later.”
Dawson seemed a bit woozy and wobbly on his feet, though he gained some steadiness as he stared down the Brigand. Both humans seemed more than a little surprised to have walked off the extreme forces they’d been hit with. My friend leapt toward his adversary, diving on top of him like a predator catching its prey. The two grappled for position, with Mr. Fields attempting to strangle or squish. He wasn’t good at throwing punches, I knew that, but this seemed ill-advised.
The Brigand grabbed Dawson’s arm and pulled with all his might, dislocating it from the shoulder socket. The bandit then took advantage of my friend’s release and howl of pain, driving his feet upward and kicking him through several sheets of plaster. Dawson better get up swiftly, assuming he could at all, since his body had cleared multiple rooms and was far away from safeguarding us. I racked my mind for any strategies with the bandit prowling. I only came up with dropping my weapon and raising empty paws.
Time to walk back the ears and fingernails antagonizing. That got the focus off of Dawson, but he’s clearly not a fighter; he’s getting his ass whooped.
“This was his idea,” Ficrae said, pointing a metal claw at me.
My eyes widened in outrage. “You all went along with it! And we did figure out where Larimak crawled off to.”
The mystery human smiled. “Ah, playing nice now that I’ve dispatched your friend? Let me introduce myself. I’m Jakov Rukavina, the rightful ruler of Jorlen and a soldier who’s going to lead the Brigands to victory. You have two choices—”
“And you have none,” came Dawson’s throaty growl.
My human friend had leapt up onto the second floor to avoid being seen, and jumped down through the previously-formed ceiling hole to clobber Jakov in the jaw with a flying punch. The Brigand cartwheeled backward into our ship—which held up with only a dent since it was made of Sol metal. That impact didn’t offer much give at all. Rukavina struggled onto all fours, wincing at some pain in his spine; he stared at Dawson in disbelief, unable to believe he hadn’t been KO’d yet.
“Stubborn fool!” Jakov screamed. “I’ve had about enough of this.”
Dawson, with one dislocated arm hanging limp at his side, grimaced. “Yeah, me too, but I have a responsibility to the people of Caelum. I’m the only one who can stand up for them here.”
“You won’t be able to stand up at all, by the time I’m done with you, you little piss baby.”
“Can you even stand right now?!”
Jakov’s expression hardened, and he rose on two legs without any further hesitation. It was obvious each step pained him, from his hobbling stance, but the unfortunate part was that it seemed he was just black and blue all over. They were both going to feel this tomorrow—assuming one of them didn’t get killed before this was finished. The two dimension hoppers raised their fists (in Dawson’s case, his one good arm), and circled each other to see who would take the first jab. They inched closer in a tense dance, crouched steps sliding.
Dawson, growing impatient, planted his leg with a massive step forward and drove his fist toward Jakov’s jaw once more. The Brigand was ready for it: his hands shot up and caught my friend’s arm, before twisting it like a screwdriver. Mr. Fields released a primal scream at the white-hot pain, now with no good arms. After checking that his teeth were in place from the hit he took, the bandit returned the favor and rocked Dawson with a haymaker to the chin.
I saw my friend’s eyes roll back in his head and his legs crumple, though before he could fall, Jakov jumped in to hold him upright by the straps of his bulletproof vest. The protective gear inched upward as it supported his weight, leaving enough room for the Brigand to throw in a gratuitous knee right to the gut. The dimension hopper thug then drove his heel on Dawson’s boot, stomping and twisting it around as I heard bones cracking. Well, that would stop Mr. Fields from going on any more jogs.
I gawked in horror, as Jakov threw Dawson’s body to the ground and turned to us. “Now. Can we finally talk about this, like civilized people? If you just wanted Larimak, you could have negotiated with us, not come warping in guns blazing. We’d sell out Mother Teresa for the right price, and that guy sure as shit isn’t her.”
“We thought you might know where Larimak is. He wronged a lot of people, and we want justice,” Redge took charge, as my throat clammed up. “We won’t trouble you again. Just hand him over to us, and our business here is done.”
“Ha! Do you think I’m scared of you, just because you’re a spooky snake? I don’t care if the Girret have a beef with me; it’s not like we won’t march on Doros eventually. You Caelum species are so weak, and the ESU’s been sent packing. It’s open season now.”
“Humanity…wouldn’t want this. Your people stood for more than this.”
“You talk as if we’re a hive mind.”
Dawson whimpered, writhing on the ground as he woke back up and felt the shards within his mangled foot. “H-how did you even get here?”
Jakov grinned. “Aw, I know I don’t have to answer your questions, but I’m downright happy to. I left during the Space Gate Battle, snuck off and nobody damn well noticed. Assumed I was dead, I bet. We could live in riches and splendor, but the ESU has no ambition. The Brigands—long as I can give them that, they’ll serve me. We bought each other’s help. It seemed a good deal.”
“And now you see…an opportunity, with your entire species—all of us—sent back to Sol. How can you feel nothing about what was done to humanity?”
“I’m not a bad man for wanting what everyone else would want, if they could take it. Jorlen believes us to be demigods, and they’d treat us as such. Anything I could want, lavish excess, all the women my heart’d desire, power beyond that of Alexander the Great. Adoration, worship, control. We are gods here, and it’s time we’re treated like it.”
“We’re not entitled to all of those…things. We’re people, Jakov, not g-gods.”
“You could be treated like a god too, no matter how much of a soy boy you are amongst your own people. You could be revered, you could dominate those fragile little people. No one’s here to stop you or judge you, so drop the morality for show. Join me, and you can live a life greater than most people’s dreams.”
“I guess my dreams,” Dawson coughed, his face constricting in pain, “are different than yours. I wouldn’t hurt others to get what I want.”
“LIAR! What did you just do now, to those bodies that got turned into colorful toothpaste all over the walls? If that’s not hurting people, I don’t know what it is. You like to think you’re better than me, because you hide behind your noble goals, but this offer is as good—”
“Is this offer extended to me?” Ficrae interjected. “I would like to rule over the creator scum that inhabit Jorlen, and to have them bow to my wishes. They should serve me.”
Jakov’s eyes widened in surprise, before he nodded. “Sure, why not? Long as you can take marching orders from me. You join my forces and you can take whatever you like from Jorlen.”
“The creators might be useful!” I protested. “Ficrae, you agreed you needed more data.”
“The variables changed. I can help conquer Jorlen without drawing blame on the Vascar, if other organics lead this goal. They will blame Jakov, and it is his plan,” Ficrae whirred.
Jakov clapped his hands together. “Well, the offer’s expired for the rest of you goody-two-shoes. Tell me why you barged into my private space and started killing my people. Why did you need to find Larimak? He tortured Dawson’s brother, or some vendetta—”
Redge straightened his head. “We wanted to find out where he’d hidden, since we couldn’t track him. We thought it might be a good place to hide from the Elusians.”
“I see why Dawson needs to hide, which is why he woulda been smart to jump ship, but I don’t see why the rest of you need to stow away. I take it there’s something else you’re hiding?”
“No. I have no idea what you’re trying to insinuate,” I replied.
Ficrae whirred for attention. “They wanted somewhere to hide away to continue their teleportation research. They salvaged some of the technology.”
“Oh, you mean: we could get our mitts on teleportation tech? That’d make our jobs even easier.” Ficrae, you traitorous…of course that clanker would make a good pirate. Jakov’s eyes lit up, and he gave a hand signal to the other Brigands to raid the ship. “I take it we need to keep the scientist folks around then. We give you a space to research and let you live, and in exchange, you work for us now. We could all benefit from this arrangement.”
I mulled over my options, knowing that moral grandstanding wouldn’t get me any closer to what I wanted. With everything that was at stake with Sol, this was the most off-the-radar spot to research where to help them; the Brigands would provide us with resources. Jakov needed to believe that I would cooperate, long enough for me to complete my work, decide a better way to deal with the Elusians, then conjure up an escape plan. At the least, sabotaging the Brigands from the inside might be the only way to prevent Jorlen and the Alliance worlds from being conquered.
“All I care about is getting the means to protect humanity from the Elusians,” I stated. “We need to be able to stand up against them. You do too, whether you care about Sol or not. You know what happens if they find you out here.”
“Of course I do.” That seemed to hit close to home to Jakov, who sucked in a sharp breath. Wait a second…what if that’s how I get rid of Jakov? I tip the Elusians off somehow, though that’s a dangerous game. I’d have to have a plan to stop Dawson from getting sent back too. “You better do your job, Capal. Fuck with me and I’ll get a more compliant scientist to take your place.”
“Obviously, I know that. I flipped to humanity’s side once as a prisoner of war to save my pelt. What makes you think I won’t do it again?”
“Hmph. I expect results. Tick tock.”
A group of Brigands collected our weapons and hauled us off to a dungeon area, which looked much dingier than my cell back at the Space Gate. I’d willingly stayed in that prisoner room even after I was given clemency, because it was cozy and personalized; it would’ve been a pain to move all of my inane scribbles. I’d have to at least lobby for a proper setup, if they wanted me to get any work done. There was nothing beginning to resemble laboratory equipment or research stations here!
I curled my claws around the bars, watching as Jakov himself hauled Dawson into an extra-security cell with several layers of titanium chains around his mangled limbs. I had to give my human friend a medical lookover, if the Brigand leader wouldn’t do it himself; I could see that he was in agony, and while he’d given his best efforts to our fight, I regretted asking him to step in. Deciding to address one problem at a time, I selected the one most important to me.
“Jakov, sir? Could you…please put me with Dawson? He needs help,” I pleaded. “I’ll work better if I’m not worried about him.”
The Brigand scowled, before jabbing a thumb at the cell. “Have it your way. I don’t care what fooling around you people want to do, so long as the work gets done. I’m a pirate, not a dictator.”
“Thank you. I’m much obliged.” I stumbled as they threw me into the cell, kneeling beside a shiver Dawson. The Brigands departed, and I stroked his sweat-stained forehead with concern. I…wasn’t really a doctor, even if I read medical literature for fun. I needed to act confident, for his sake. “It’s okay, I’m right here. Mind if I take a look at you?”
Dawson nodded. “P-please. It hurts so bad.”
“I know. I got us in here, and I put you up to this. This never should’ve happened. I’m sorry that you trusted me, and I…”
Alarm flashed in the human’s delirious brown pupils, and he shook his head. “It’s not your fault, Capal. You couldn’t have known. I should have: I have precog. I should be a better fighter too.”
“It’s the Elusians’ fault, not either of you. Capal’s plan wasn’t ideal, but it was the best we had. They put you in a position to have no good choices, and took away Caelum’s most fearsome defenders,” Redge interjected. “We’ll be feeling the ripple effects of that power vacuum, instead of the stability we could’ve enjoyed, for decades.”
I swallowed hard. “Thank you, Redge. I’m still going to fix this.”
“You better!” Jetti squawked. “Why am I in a cell?!”
Dawson coughed, laughing in spite of himself. “Did you hear what you said to Jakov? You burned him.”
“Mama set him on fire?” Hirri chirped, a lilt of excitement in his voice.
I chuckled, getting to work examining the human’s wounds. “Yeah. She sure did.”
Our assault on the Brigands’ hideout could’ve gone much better, but with our group together and in good spirits, I had faith that we would find a way out. When we did, Ficrae would pay for choosing the wrong side.
A/N - 67! Dawson puts up a brave fight and the two humans walk off some serious impacts, but in the end Jakov breaks his legs and comments that they would’ve sold out Larimak for the right price. Jakov snuck off during the Space Gate Battle, and wants to live as a rich demigod—an offer Ficrae pounces on, wanting the oVascar to serve it. The others are thrown in a cell and Capal is told to build teleportation tech for the Brigands; he considers telling the Elusians Jakov is here.
Do you think Capal will be able to complete his research in a prison cell, or will he figure out a way to escape? Is it a good idea to notify the Elusians, especially when Dawson is there too? What do you make of Jakov?
As always, thank you for reading and supporting!
Comments
EliasArt2Life
Well, that fight was… ridiculous. The cartoon logic “head implanted into the ground, body stiff as a board” exceeded my suspension of disbelief slightly. And everyone of the aliens joining in of the insults. Feel bad for Dawson. He’s not a fighter, but paid the price for being pressured into being one. I suspect that Ficare is planning to betray the pirates, but is also totally betraying Capal and the others. Ficare strikes me as the type who tries to play all sides until they’re sure what their best option is. Ficare is going to learn the hard way that when you try to side with everyone, no one trusts you because they know your loyalty lies only with yourself.
Space Paladin
Ficrae’s morals are….welllll….
Yonael Blackwood
Damn. I was expecting Ficrae to be greasing Jakov up in order to shoot him in the head. Lame.
Bonald
Jack-off Jakov - I'm going to assume that name choice was on putpose, unless it's pronounced "Ya-kov" lol
