(3 ratings) Rate this Story (5 best) 1 2 3 4 5

At least it definitely wasn't a torture cell, he thought as the guards followed him in.

"Make yourself at home sir. The captain will see you soon. Until then you won't be able to leave here."

"Thanks," Stryler replied with just a touch of sarcasm to the back of the soldier as he turned to leave. Once again there was no response and the door slid shut.

Alone in the room, Stryler made use of the facilities and then threw himself down on the bed. Being in a situation where he was cooped up and not in control never did his nerves any good. He wasn't patient and the waiting was just as bad as anything else. He didn't bother to try the door. That would just confirm that he was locked in and add to his growing sense of claustrophobia. Better not to deal with that right now. Instead he looked around the room, trying to gain as much information as he could from its totally generic furnishings. It was rather large for a ship of this size, definitely not the sort of accommodations that the average crew member had the benefit of. So this wasn't the brig, which was a good sign. So far his hosts were careful and sensible, but not hostile. That was the first positive turn of events in the past few hours, so he decided to cling to it.

He closed his eyes and dozed until he was woken by an even toned male voice. "Excuse me sir."

Stryler opened his eyes and looked around quickly. "Arti?"

"That is correct sir. " The synthesized voice confirmed that it belonged to an artificial intelligence system, probably the brain of the ship. "The captain is ready to meet you. The door to these quarters is now unlocked and an escort is waiting for you outside."

Stryler stood. "Thanks."

"You're welcome sir."

Artificial intelligence equipped ship huh? There must be more to this ragtag bunch than first met the eye. AI cores were highly expensive, difficult to obtain and even more difficult to service. None had been built in this part of the galaxy for a couple of hundred years, as far as he knew. Maybe they still manufactured them in the Empire, or perhaps the Federated States. That was a long way from here.

The door to the room slid open silently as Stryler approached it and he stepped out. His two guards were standing there armed and suited just as before.

"This way," the talkative one said, and they started down the hallway.

A couple more ladderways and a hallway led them into a dimly lit room that was roughly something between a command deck and a throne room. At the far end, sitting on a raised dais was a figure in impressive body armor, complete with a cape. Like the guards, the suit included a helmet with a visor that obscured the figure's features. Unlike the others, this armor was brand new, state of the art and in perfect condition, the dull metallic finish showing barely a scratch. A handful of other crew members were scattered around the room. None of them wore any particular uniform, but jumpsuits of various styles and colors predominated, which was the norm for ship crews.