The Premonition part 1

THE PREMONITION

He stood, aggravated in the intense light, squinting in disgust. It was unnatural to him. He much preferred the darkened interior of the gray and blue metal hues which made up the greater portion of their space station. The foreign children gathered in groups awaiting their evening ration of food, and babbling in an incoherent language. He could hardly see them as he squinted in the brightness. How could they stand this? These creatures had such unnatural habits. But they were prisoners of war, and no doubt the preferences of his people, the Tjetʻkat, were strange to them. Still he wondered why they were given preferential treatment over him? Their eager voices raised their usual murmur to a slightly higher pitch which annoyed him even more. Hastily he began dishing out the grub. How was it he came to this?!

He had gone to his superiors on the grounds of suspicion. Some deep feeling of impending trouble had been nagging at him. A sense that their enemies, once firmly controlled were now plotting a vengeful tactic which would catch them by surprise, cut them off form all support in their far out base, and render them helpless. It was an insane thought, but potent to him. It bore so heavily that he was driven by fear of insanity consuming him himself. He had even intercepted some coded and faint transmission, capturing it on an old radio frequency known to be used by their inferiors and recorded it. Armed with this evidence, he sought out the High Command of the base. Surely they would take heed, and action would ensue. He would be promoted for his good efforts and loyalty. But instead, they accused him of being in on it! And demoted him to prison watch of the children!

"Hurry up and get this done, Galeem! Get it over with." he scolded himself beneath his breath. "Get out before they get attached!" As he finished up the last of the slop, which the children seemed to relish, he turned to wash the pots. There she was, the little girl-child of a people he did not even know, looking at him with big pitiful imploring eyes. She had taken to him somehow. He couldnʻt understand why. Several of them seemed relieved to see him, even if they did not approach. He did not let them linger close, but would push them back, harshly. He was their superior, a militant of the Great Regime, and he would be revered! It was loathsome enough that he was reduced to feeding prisoner children, yet even as he shoved them back, something always pricked him with grief in his core. They were helpless. It wasnʻt their fault they were imprisoned. Their innocence bothered him. Yes, they were different, even primitive, but they were living breathing, emotional beings, and in his observation, displayed the same behaviors of his own people. They were just in the wrong place, at the wrong time. Perhaps they should have been born in another place, to another people- "You are going soft, Galeem!" he uttered aloud, disgusted and afraid. What was happening to him? The children froze at the intensity of his tone, watching him with guarded stance lest he turn and become like the other militant oppressors. Ignoring their response, he shook his shoulders as if trying to free himself from the weight. That foreboding premonition was falling upon him again. Maybe he was going insane!

He lifted the pots, and walked briskly toward the washing station on the far side of the room, dropped them in the basin, punched in his code and waited, gripping the counter as fluid and suds flowed. A slight ironic smile came to his face and he gave huff, laughing at himself in irony- reduced even to washing prisonersʻ dishes! As he pushed his hands into the detergent- that menacing premonition! It was still there, it should pass. Even now, he laughed at it. "You are going insane, Galeem." He sang, and then shoved his hands deeper into the fluid, grabbed the sponge scrubber and vigorously went to war against the food particles, regardless if they were adhering to the pots or not. Hunched, he stood, his movements becoming more and more aggressive, shoulders rolling in, head lowering. His voice could be heard muttering, and every so often, his shoulders twitched. That feeling or impending doom continued to increase. Enough! He was about to yell at the invisible foe as he reared back from the counter, and looking up in preperation to scream. But in that moment a horrendous deafening sound shook the entire structure with massive force, knocking everyone to the floor, and beating them against it in repetitive motion for four seconds. The lights dimmed and surged in unpredictable pattern. Something had to have struck the space station with enormous power to rattle the prison ward at the belly of the structure like this! The children were shrieking and crying, trying to huddle in the confusion.

Galeem pulled himself up from the floor. He had to get out of here! Leaning forward with feet wide apart for stability in case of another slam, he made his way toward the exit. It was easier to see when the lights dimmed and he could make out the shadows of the children scattered in bunches about the room. Their innocence never bothered him so much as at this point. There was nothing he could do for them, thatʻs how it is in war, but for the first time, their cries really got to him. Within only a few steps another great blast slammed him to the floor again, the bright lights went out leaving only the blue hue of emergency power. A hazy fog of gas began pouring into the room. This blow somehow seemed worse than the first, and he was slightly dazed. Not as many children were crying now, probably knocked unconscious, or already dead. Gathering himself up again, he made it to the exit, and leaning on the wall, punched in his code. Nothing. He punched it in again. Still nothing. Did they change it? Did it jam? The gas was filling the room. In desperation he gripped the edge of the panel and kept punching, his code. Nothing! Breathing was getting hard. He gripped the edges of the gate in aggravation, as if he could rip it apart with his hands and screamed. His futile action was answered by another crash that again knocked him to the floor, but it also knocked the gate open. The gas began pouring out of the room spilling into the hall and then visibility cleared. The gate and force field were both open! He did not waste his chance of escape. There was no knowing whether it would suddenly close again. Pulling himself along, he crawled and scrambled across the inter lock space to the outer hall. Not a moment too soon. The security force field kicked back in just as he pulled his feet across the line. Staggering to his feet, he noticed how deserted the hall was- not a soul in sight. Not even the sound of footsteps. The thought hit his mind- all evacuated- he, left behind? Theyʻd do that to him too! He had to hurry! Not knowing why, he glanced back at the childrenʻs prison ward and froze, aghast as that little-girl child stood fearfully trapped behind the force field. Her big eyes imploring eyes deeply gripping his soul, pleading not to be left behind to death. In a spontaneous motion, Galeem pulled out his remote warden lock, and held it as if ready to open the force field. What was he doing?

A tremor shook the station and impulse took over. Pressing the release, he rushed to retrieve the child, who ran into his arms as he hoisted her up. Then pivoting around he staggered through another tremor, and ran for the shuttle base. What was he thinking? He couldnʻt take her with him. Theyʻd laugh, and leave him behind. "You really are insane Galeem," he uttered to himself, but he did not set her down. He kept running between tremors, aware that these were the stationʻs own explosions. It was falling apart now. It would not last. Down the darkened hall he ran, holding tightly the prisoner child as she clung to him.