Across the Universe... and Back?

Chapter 4

John could not recall when last he’d been so angry. He did not even have time for the fear that should have come when he found himself standing on the metal floor of a dimly lit metal room he’d never seen before, with an angry looking bearded man on each side pointing a pistol-like weapon at his head. The first thing he did was swear loudly, glaring at Koloth, who had released him and was now making his way to the door, issuing orders in the same choking, guttural language he had used on the planet.

“What’ve you done, then?” He called out furiously after the man’s retreating form. “Where am I?”

Koloth did not deign to answer him, but spoke a few words to his guards, who nodded in affirmation. A moment later, John felt the business end of one of the weapons jab into his back, prodding him forward. In this way he was forced through metal halls lit with dim red light, down flights of narrow stairs, and finally into a fairly large cell with a mesh door of the same metal as the rest of the place seemed to be made.

His guards did not appear to understand any English, and remained stiff as statues on either side of the door, hardly sparing him a glance. He had tried multiple times to obtain information from them, but to no avail. Finally, he resigned himself to sitting on the hard bench in the corner of his cell and trying to figure things out for himself.

He could make neither head nor tail of his situation. Somehow he was a prisoner of a person he’d never met, with no idea where he was or how he’d come there. And, perhaps most importantly, he had no idea why he was there – maybe for a ransom? His captor had said something about a plan, but as far as John knew, that could refer to anything.

As he thought, and tried vainly to work out something that would give him a clue as to where he was, John’s anger began to subside, gradually replaced by the fear he had been holding at bay since he had arrived. Whatever lay in store for him in this place, it could hardly be good. They were probably going to kill him, he thought pessimistically.

Besides that, what of his band mates? To be sure, they had been left in the record store; he was the only one to have been captured, he knew. Their chances of being in a situation like his were not great, but John remembered the other men in the store – the ones who were obviously enemies of his captor, but had been just as strange. Could they have done anything with his friends?

He suddenly discovered how very thirsty he was, and realised then just how hot his cell was. He called out to one of the guards, but neither made a move to aid him. In the hopes of arousing them from their stupor, John began to yell loudly, stomping his feet and kicking the door for added effect. A few moments later, he heard a voice he recognized calling down the stairs outside his cell. The language was still impossible to understand, and grated horribly both on John’s ears and on his nerves.

Soon his captor, now wearing a long, flowing cloak, swept into view. He was obviously the leader of the men around him, or at least some high official, considering the respect offered to him by them, and the haughty way in which he carried himself. Glancing down imperially at John, who scowled back, he spoke.

“Now, Mr Lennon, if you make too much of a fuss I will have to order my guards to cut your rations in half, and since we’re ‘in for a bit of a trip’, as you humans say, that would probably not be a pleasant experience.”

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” John spat. “Who are you, for starters?”

“My name is Koloth, human. I am a Klingon and captain of this vessel.”

“What’s a Klingon?” John asked, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“I am not from planet Earth. Klingons are native to the planet Qo’nos, sometimes pronounces ‘Kronos’ by humans.”

“And your vessel?”

“A spaceship. The IKS Gr’oth, to be precise.” Koloth grinned, ferally. “You should be honoured. No human from your time has ever or will ever see this ship in the way you are.”

“Well, forgive me if I’m not very flattered considering as I’m a prisoner,” John quipped, unsmilingly. “What are you going to do with me, anyway?”

Koloth threw back his head and uttered a loud peal of derisive laughter. “Oh, I like you, Lennon!”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Now, now – as one of your more apt human proverbs says, haste makes waste. You, my good young man, are my bargaining piece. And while it is true that it is against the Klingon warrior code to take hostages, I prefer to look at you as added security. After all, you will be leaving this ship alive, one way or another.”

“Oh? And if you’re so sure, then why am I here?” John folded his arms and regarded Koloth with distrust.

“You remember, of course, the men with whom we conversed back on earth? Their leader was there- his name is Captain James Tiberius Kirk. Four earth months ago I took him as my sworn enemy when he defiled my ship and humiliated me in the grossest of ways. I will say no further on that subject, it is intensely painful to me.

“I will merely offer your life in exchange for what I wish,” the Klingon captain went on. “And Kirk will be duty-bound to accept my terms. You see, you play an integral part of Earth History – you already know that, because you’re famous. The slightest change in the timeline regarding your lives could alter the course of the planet’s future. Kirk will not, and cannot, allow any change in the time continuum. He will capitulate, no matter the cost. And you will be safe.” Koloth eyed John carefully. “You have no reason to fear.”

“I’ll decide that for meself, thanks,” snarled John. Shrugging, Koloth spun imperially on one heel and left the room, leaving John once more under the silent watch of the guards.

He had no choice but to believe Koloth’s story, since he could think of no feasible alternate explanation. And if he really was a prisoner of an alien in space, possibly even hurtling through the galaxy or time itself, there was nowhere to run, even if he should find a means of escape from the cell.

John had no choice but to sit, helpless, in his sweltering cell and hope for release.