“How many have you found?” Jean asked Monique and Mik’t as they walked along a corridor once detonated to the human prisoners. Behind the bars of each cell were a pair of Scaladorians who had the misfortune of being caught off guard by the unlikely pair of fighters.

  “We have roughly forty here now. Not much in terms of a fighting force, but it’s better than nothing.” Mik’t said.

  “They’re not our fighting force yet. They have to make the decision to join us and hear the truth of their existence, out refute us and remain in these cells.”

  “You’re not planning to kill the ones who will not join you?” The alien asked, raising his antennae in surprise.

  “You asked me to spare any who could be spared. Why would I live by anything other than my word?” Jean was amused by the lack of faith in a person’s word. Humans weren’t known for abiding by the strict policy of their word either, but was it truly so universally strange to experience?

  The trio approached the door of a cell. Inside, a pair of former guards lay on the steel bunks, staring into the distance as though the world around them didn’t exist. Mik’t made a noise to get their attention and ordered them to stand in his native tongue. The first ignored them completely, but the second rolled over and stood.

  “Do you not understand what you’ve done, traitor of our people?” It said, locking eyes with Mik’t as if it was trying to bore into his soul.

  “Do you not understand what our people have done to other races? How about our overlords? Do you understand what they’ve done to every intelligent life they find?” The traitorous Scaladorian replied, trying to crack the mental stranglehold the Stygibora had over this man.

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  “Yes. They’ve allowed those people to repent and taught them to see the glory of a world without light.” He quoted, hoping that hearing the dark scripture would remind the traitor of his place.

  “No. We, along with every other race that falls under the heel of the Stygibora, are nothing but a man’s to an end.”

  “Liar!” the guard said, slamming all four hands against the bars.

  “I have proof! These claims are not unfounded. We are one of the slave races, bred only to ensure the weakest and least confrontational of us survive. I have a record carved by the hand of our ancestors and told to the strongest of every slave race that enters this place.” Mik’t said, matching the other guard's intensity.

  “I would hear you out.” The third Scaladorian said from his position on the metal cot. “If you speak the truth, so much would be explained. So many holes in our history that I’ve been taught to ignore.”

  The other alien rolled off his bunk and stared at the human contentment of Mik’t’s group. His translator clicked, “I will join you, standing by your side as you work to spread this message to our people. But if you’re lying about my people, I will kill you all myself and drag your corpses before the dark priest for judgement.”

  “A bold claim. But I can assure you that I do not exaggerate my words.” Jean answered, turning to Monique and motioning for her to lead the creature from its cell. “Unless walls carved long before either of us were born are nothing but an elaborate ruse concocted by minds stinger than my own, I believe I will be ok. What is your name?”

  Monique unlocked the door to the cell and pushed the first, noncompliant, Scaladorian back with the tip of her stinger. The second held two sets of hands in front of him, and she locked them into place with a pair of special manacles. She stepped back, allowing the second to walk out under his own power before following him from the cell.

  “My name is Kra’ct.” The prisoner said, looking at Jean for the first time without bars between them.

  “Well then Kra’ct, prepare to have everything you know challenged. Hopefully, this will be the last time you have to walk these halls as prisoner. After today, I have no doubt you will be as steadfast in your conviction to free your people as Mik’t.” Jean replied, turning his back to his foe and returning to mine once more.