Death to the Insects

Chapter 2: Whatever happened to Mongo?

Chapter 2: Whatever happened to Mongo?

Turning back the clock:

The date: One Year, 11 Months after the Invasion of August

"Always ungrateful," Mongo hissed. "Always ungrateful, and foolish, yes, very foolish."

He was more irritated than usual. Croft and his allies had learned that Preston and Sashay were walking into a trap, and had gone to rescue them. Mongo had tried to warn them but no, they wouldn't listen to Mongo, oh no. So as they headed in one direction, into a deadly ambush, Mongo headed into another.

As he scampered away, possibilities of the future flashed through his mind. But they were all jumbled, all coming too quickly. Mongo, however, saw images of his being captured, or killed by the Insects. The bugs were very active today. If he wanted to escape, he'd have to move fast.

Mongo headed down, down, down to the lowest levels of the underground. Insect patrols ran there too, but less frequently. He peered about cautiously in the gloom. Only the dim illumination of sparsely spaced emergency light panels flickered in the corridor. He heard the sound of water dripping. Nothing else.

Mongo scampered away into the darkness.

**********

Three days later Mongo was on the edge of exhaustion and starvation. He hadn't eaten since he had left Croft's base, nor drank except for some questionable water dripping from a pipe. But at least he had moved away from the center of Insect activity; he had only heard sounds of movement twice, and both times in the distance. He had assumed it had been the Insects, but hadn't stopped to check.

Mongo stopped at an intersection and peered ahead in the gloom. Suddenly, a flash vision hit him; he saw himself being grabbed in the dark, and taken away. Mongo tried to focus on the image, but couldn't get another vision of it. He tried to remember the image as best he could. Hands were grabbing him in a dark corridor.

Mongo looked ahead. There were dark corridors to his right, his left, and straight ahead. Which one was the bad one?

Mongo reflected, considering. His flash vision might represent an incident that might occur tomorrow, or next week. But no, he had felt an electrifying edge from the vision that told him it was imminent. But which way did the danger lay?

Mongo peered down the left corridor, then the right one, then the one straight ahead. He mumbled almost inaudibly to himself while chewing on some of his nails. His pale eyes stared out at the gloom.

Left, left, the danger must be down the left corridor, he sensed. Or was it? Mongo started to go down the right corridor, then stopped. Maybe the danger was down this corridor the right one. Mongo was no longer getting visions, but instead relying on feelings.

Mongo looked down the center corridor. Then, an idea struck him. Of course, he should go back the way he came! That would be the only safe route. Mongo was smart, very smart indeed.

As quietly as he could, Mongo crept back down the corridor he had come from. His senses only spiked as he walked past a dark doorway. Before he could act on his intuition, a large form leapt out of the darkness, pummeling him to the ground.

Mongo squealed and tried to resist, but his attacker was joined by another, and another, and in moments they had him pinned.

"Finally," said one of his attackers. "We've been tracking this one for close to an hour. Good thing he stopped so we could catch up. He'll fetch a good price, eh?"

Mongo spat and tried to claw his attackers. But then a foul rag was put to his face, he found himself nearly suffocated by the fumes, and everything went black.

**********

Something was burning. Mongo blinked, and then instinctively covered his eyes. It was sunlight, raw sunlight, and for someone living underground for months, unused to the rays of the sun, the light and the heat were bound to be uncomfortable.

But then a shadow fell over Mongo's face, and a giant head appeared. Giant, at least it looked that way, because it was so close to Mongo's face.

An irritating smile appeared on the giant's face. "Are we awake yet?"

Something about that smile unnerved Mongo and he scampered away, still on his back. He struggled to sit up. He was inside some sort of dusty compound filled with dirty, weary looking humans. Looking further, he saw the area was surrounded with fences and guards.

"What is happening?" he said, looking up at the odd face. Now the head appeared normal sized.

The man continued to smile. "I'm afraid you've been taken prisoner."

"What do you want with Mongo?" said Mongo, getting up. He felt a bit light headed, but otherwise all right.

"Want with Mongo?" the man asked, his smile turning slightly puzzled.

"Why have you captured Mongo?"

"I haven't captured you at all," said the man. That made no sense to Mongo.

Suddenly, an antique bell rang. All the humans groaned and struggled to get up. Armed guards entered the compound and hit the prisoners to get them moving.

"They're the ones who have captured you," said the man, smiling again.

"Get a move on, Smiley," one of their captors growled, giving the man an offhanded blow to the back of the head.

Smiley, if that was his name, barely flinched. "Yes, my friend," he said, almost lovingly, to the man who had smacked him on the head. He turned to Mongo. "Come on, it's time for work."

"Work?"

"We're agricultural workers. Isn't that exciting?"

**********

Ten hours of back breaking labor later, Mongo didn't find it so exciting. Smiley, who could talk a mile a minute, made it clear what had happened. Mongo had been captured by slavers, and brought or sold here to work in back breaking agricultural labor.

Slavery, on August? When the Insects had invaded August, some of the humans had managed to flee to the western periphery of the continent, which still hadn't been developed, and even had open land in some areas. The Insects apparently hadn't gotten this far out yet, and so the humans were free of molestation, at least for the time being. When Mongo had been kidnapped, he had been drugged and brought to western August.

But food supplies were limited, and when the government collapsed, roving bands of gangs raided each other for what was available. When the food was almost gone, the bands turned to farming, but found it easier to use others to do the back breaking labor. So gangs that had formerly raided each other for food now raided each other for workers. Over time the raids yielded fewer and fewer results, so the gangs probed deeper into August, looking for labor they could co-opt. It was there that they "recruited" Mongo.

So they didn't know about his special abilities; he hadn't been targeted for any special reason, and wasn't under any special guard. That meant he should be able to escape.

As Mongo worked, he let the flashes of the possible future leak in, one by one. Climb over the fence over there? No, he would be shot. Cut through the fence at that point? No, he would be caught. What about over there? Mongo processed the possibilities, but didn't see any easy avenues of escape. That was all right, sooner or later, he would spot a promising potential future, and take advantage of it.

If he survived.

There had been no substantial farming done on August for centuries. But planets that did produce agricultural output were fully mechanized. Unfortunately, the slavers didn't have any autoplanters or roboplows at their disposal, and so used people for every step of the planting and plowing process, as they had untold centuries ago.

Mongo found the labor exhausting. His scrawny form wasn't built for heavy labor, and he wasn't used to it. But when he collapsed to the ground from exhaustion, an overseer rushed over. "Get up!" he roared.

Without waiting for a response, he launched out with his electrowhip. As the current lashed into Mongo's back, he shrieked, jumping to his feet.

"Back to work!" the overseer roared.

Mongo, with hate-filled eyes, picked up the small tool he had been given for digging, and laboriously continued to dig the ditch. But his arms felt like lead.

"Gee, that wasn't a very nice thing for them to do," said Smiley. As Mongo soon learned, Smiley was always smiling.

"Mongo weak. Mongo not survive," he said, digging slowly, but just fast enough not to attract a return visit from the guard, who was eyeing him caustically.

"You just need some enthusiasm for your work," said Smiley. "Come on, dig, one-two-three."

Mongo groaned.

"How about a song while we work?" said Smiley. "I have a great singing voice."

Mongo managed to get through the rest of the day without being whipped again, but his arms were wracked with pain. After the digging detail in the morning, he had been set to lifting and moving heavy rocks around the perimeter. He knew he couldn't survive another day like this. He was so tired he could barely stand, but he managed to stand in line long enough for the daily ration. There hadn't been any breakfast, or lunch, so whatever they were fed, he hoped it would be sustaining. First they walked by a bowl of water which the serving prisoner dipped a large cup of water into. He handed the cup to the person in line in front of Mongo, who drank it eagerly. Then he stepped forward as the server refilled the cup, handing it to Mongo. Mongo looked at the contents of the cup. This was it? This was all they would be allowed to drink for an entire day?

The guard standing by the vat barked at Mongo, and Mongo gulped the water down and returned the cup. The line moved forward, and Mongo saw the prisoners in front of him were moving forward with their hands cupped together. When Mongo got to the second part of the line, a server ladled a pile of somethings into his open hands. Mongo cupped his hands tightly but that didn't prevent one or two of the somethings from falling to the ground. Before he could react, the person behind him in line had reached down, picked them up, and swallowed them.

Mongo moved into better lighting to see what he held. They were small, green balls, some kind of tiny vegetable or plant buds. He put one in his mouth and tried to chew. It broke into very bitter tasting pieces. Mongo almost vomited. But he was hungry.

"Swallow them whole," said Smiley, suddenly appearing besides him. "That's the secret," he smiled.

Mongo followed his advice. The plant buds or whatever they were settled uneasily in his stomach. But at least he avoided the unpleasant taste in his mouth.

Smiley led him to a place where they could sit down on the ground.

"Mongo cannot survive on this," Mongo groaned, almost collapsing from fatigue. "How do others survive?"

"They don't," Smiley grinned. "The death rate is rather high." Mongo suddenly noticed that Smiley was holding a fancy pair of boots and polishing them. He wondered where Smiley had gotten the fancy boots from.

"Why do they make so much effort to take peoples, and then let them die?" Mongo asked.

"There's a terrible food shortage," said Smiley, vigorously brushing the boots. "The guards eat reasonably well, but there simply isn't much left over for the prisoners. At least, not for the regular prisoners." He smiled again.

Smiley really irritated Mongo. He was so exhausted that the visions, which naturally popped into his head, were slow in coming. Mongo tried to think of a future where Smiley wouldn't be wearing that irritating smile, but right now he was now too weak to see any visions at all.

Straining to keep his eyes open, Mongo focused on something Smiley had said. "Regular workers?"

"Yes, well, some of the prisoners eat better, those who clean up after the guards, those who go on raiding parties-"

"Raiding parties?" Suddenly, a vision came to Mongo. He would go on a raiding party, and, and....

The vision was hard in coming. But somehow he definitely got the idea that something, or someone, would help him escape. Who or what that someone would be was still a mystery to Mongo. But the idea was enough.

"How Mongo get on raiding party?"

"Oh, you can't," said Smiley, flipping one of the boots over to cheerfully polish the other side. "Only the favorites can."

Mongo was dizzy from fatigue and couldn't think straight.

"I could probably get you on a raiding party," said Smiley. He grinned broadly. "I'm a favorite."

Mongo stared hazily at Smiley. Smiley was a collaborator. "How?"

"I'll just ask," said Smiley. "The guards owe me favors, a lot of favors."

"How?" said Mongo again.

Smiley lifted their boots. "I always do their boots."

"What does Smiley get in return for doing boots?"

Smiley frowned, as if in deep thought for a moment. "Well, I've never asked for anything in return for doing their boots. One day one of the guards remarked how dirty his boots were, and I offered to clean them. It just seemed the neighborly thing to do," he smiled again.

Mongo lost the willpower to keep his eyes open. The last thing he saw was Smiley's grin, and his arm, vigorously rubbing away at a dirt patch on the bottom of a boot.....

"Get up, you!"

Mongo woke up to a boot in his gut. He made an involuntary omphing sound and opened his eyes a crack, to give them time to adjust to the bright sunlight.

A guard with a blue beard stood in front of him. He was big and muscular and from Mongo's perspective, looked like a giant.

"I said, get up!" said the guard, kicking him again. This time, Mongo was alert enough to partially dodge out of the way, as he scampered to a squatting position. "This is your lucky day!" growled the guard. "You're going on raiding party!"

Mongo got to his feet, looking warily at the guard.

"You're lucky, I'm only doing this for Smiley," said the guard. "But if you try to escape, or cause the slightest trouble, you'll get this," he said, suddenly striking out with an electrowhip.

"Yeow!" Mongo cried out.

"I'm just giving you a taste of the ground rules," said the blue bearded guard.

**********

Mongo and seven other prisoners were taken for a ride into the outskirts of the metropolis. They were warned to be very quiet, for even here the Insects sometimes patrolled. They were taken down several levels to a storage area, and instructed to put anything of value into sacks they were given. Blue Beard (Mongo learned that was his name, or at least what the others called him), gave them a stern warning that they would all be closely searched when they returned, and if they had any valuables hidden, they would have to answer to him. He also warned that he would punish slackers who didn't acquire enough goodies.

Mongo didn't have very much trouble after that. The work was much less physically demanding than laboring in the fields, and they spent the trip outside the reach of the blistering sun. His flashes of insight started to return to him, and he used them to locate valuables--small bits of electronics, clothes, and occasionally food--before the others did. It helped him avoid punishment and gave him more time to look around, and to think.

Whenever they were brought into a room, there were always guards posted at the exits. Whenever they left a room they always marched in single-file, with guards at the beginning, middle, and end of the column. There would be no obvious chance to slip away, not unless they encountered an Insect patrol and Mongo could get away in the confusion.

Mongo strained to recall a vision where he had seen himself escaping. But he hadn't actually seen such a vision, he had more felt it. It was difficult to recall the vision, and it wasn't at all clear whether it was the Insects who enabled Mongo to escape, or something or someone else.

Mongo stayed alert for all opportunities, but could see none in this trip. When they were herded back to the ground transport, and taken back to the farm, the prisoners emptied their bags under the watchful eyes of the guards.

Blue Beard looked at Mongo's pile. "Not bad," he said grudgingly. "You did pretty well, for a first time," he said, shoveling objects into a bag he held. When he was done he glared at Mongo. "Are you sure you're not holding out on me?" he growled.

Not waiting for an answer, he lifted Mongo by a foot, held him dangling upside down, and shook him violently to see what else would come out.

But the only thing that came out of Mongo were his shrieks of terror. "No, we have nothing, nothing!" he cried. Blue Beard let him go, and he dropped to the ground like a sack of 30 day potatoes, sobbing and weeping.

The other guards had a good laugh at Mongo's expense.

They should have known better. But they didn't know Mongo.

**********

Perhaps impressed with his success on his first day out, the guards called Mongo out again for scavenger duty the following day. That was after he had another night in the barracks with the other prisoners. And Smiley.

Mongo stood in line, wondering how much more food he would receive for the special duty he had performed. He was shocked to find the same small pile of plant buds in his bowl. He looked up at the guard serving as if to complain, but the expression on the guard's face muted him, and he involuntarily stumbled forward.

"Promised they did," Mongo muttered. He sought out Smiley, who was busy working on another pair of boots.

"Uuummm, plant buds!" said Smiley.

"Smiley says that Mongo gets more food, better food, for being on special detail," said Mongo.

"Yes, I did, didn't I?" said Smiley. "I wonder why they didn't give you more. Did you remember to ask nicely?" he grinned.

Mongo just stared at Smiley wordlessly, hoping his gaze would burn a hole through Smiley's forehead.

"Oh, don't be sore," said Smiley. He passed his bowl over to Mongo. "Here, if it means so much to you, you can have my portion."

Mongo, who had started to swallow his own portion, was so caught by surprise that some of the buds caught in his throat. He coughed some, dislodging them, and it took a few seconds to regain control.

He looked at Smiley though narrow slits. What kind of trick was this?

"If Mongo eat Smiley food, what will Smiley eat?" Mongo said. He reflected, briefly, that he didn't even know Smiley's real name. But others called him Smiley, and he seemed content to leave it at that.

"Me?" said Smiley, busy polishing a boot. "Oh, I'm not hungry."

Not hungry. They were given rations so lean that they were starving, and Smiley wasn't hungry. Mongo looked at Smiley critically. He didn't seem nearly as thin as the other prisoners.

"What you eat?"

"Nothing, usually," said Smiley, shrugging.

What was going on here? Smiley must have another source of food, better food, if he were willing to turn over his daily portion to Mongo. But Mongo couldn't fathom it. Right now, he had a more immediate need, and his stomach rumbled.

Making a face, he put Smiley's foul tasting bud ration in his mouth and swallowed.

"Wasn't that good?" said Smiley.

Mongo said nothing, not sure which disturbed him more--the foul buds he had swallowed, or the oddities which made up Smiley.

**********

The next day Blue Beard, feeling that Mongo was moving too slowly to board the ground transport, gave him a friendly shove that sent him sprawling to the ground.

Mongo quickly got up, dusting himself off as he glared at Blue Beard, who was leering at him.

But everything else was all right that day. After the past day of relatively light labor, Mongo felt some of his old self returning. He even felt an anxious buzz. Something, or somethings, were going to happen that very day that would present Mongo with an opportunity.

**********

When they got to their destination, they immediately went into the undercity. Mongo got out of the transport, but was held back by Blue Beard so he would be at the end of the line, with Blue Beard behind him. As they walked, Blue Beard gave Mongo a little shove from time to time, just to let him know who was the boss.