A Medal For Mary by Rob Astor (best books to read for self improvement TXT) 📕

His sandy brown hair was mussed. There was another New Zimlliaan circumventing the plant, an identical twin of the first, monitoring readouts.
“Javen, sir,” a metallic voice issued from the android, “this prisoner was brought from the slave transport.”
The boyish New Zimlliaan’s eyes shifted to the human. “What’s the problem?” Javen asked.
“This group of slaves will be placed with the defector.”
Javen was disinterested. “So, put him there.”
“Aren’t you concerned the situation will create problems?”
“New Zimlliaans and humans are enemies. I don’t see any problem. With any luck, they’ll kill each other and spare us the trouble.” The android nodded.
“We have something,” Javen’s twin said.
“What is it, Jadyn?”
“There’s a problem with the sync readings from the Psionic Dreamer plant,” Jadyn reported. “The signals will not stay matched.”
“Come with me,” Javen said to the android. The tall robot followed the commander to the pyre. “This is the same anomaly. What do you make of it?”
The android scanned holographic instruments. “It’s draining the host’s brain activity.”
“Give her another injection,” Javen said. “Don’t let anything get down to critical levels like the last test subject. Monitor her carefully, Jadyn.”
“Sir.”
“What were the effects to the last host?” the android asked as they turned from the stone platform.
“He suffered massive brain hemorrhaging. Seizures. Eventually, his mind was scrambled.” Javen glanced at Lynn. “Take him to the barracks with the other slaves,” he instructed, pointing to Lynn.
The android saluted by raising its right hand up to chest level in a fist and snapped it back down, turning to Lynn. “Come with me,” it said. Lynn followed the machine back out into the heat of twilight. He and the other aliens were then taken to a long building surrounded by a fence of purple laser beams outlined in green. The gate was deactivated by a tower guard. They stepped through. The android spoke the aliens first and then to Lynn. “Consume your food and get your rest. Tomorrow will be a long day.”
Lynn stood by himself, a few meters from the humming laser beams. The android spoke with a few soldiers and then left. The yellow creatures jabbered among themselves. He noticed none of the New Zimlliaans were actually watching them.
A hand clasped Lynn's left shoulder causing him to spin quickly. He faced a slightly taller human figure with boyish features and rustled black hair, trimmed short at the front and sides. He said something to Lynn in an alien tongue and waited for a moment before trying a new dialect. Lynn shook his head. “I don’t understand,” he said.
“Ah,” came a sound Lynn recognized. “You aren’t New Zimlliaan. You’re from Earth.
“Who are you?” Lynn asked.
“I am called Klexi. You?”
“Lynn Christopher.” He studied the battered gray uniform stained with black dirt the New Zimlliaan wore. His skin was roughened from labor. “Are you the defector?”
“You know,” Klexi said.
Lynn nodded. “Why’d you defect?” This has got to be worth hearing.
“I don’t stand behind everything my people are doing,” Klexi said. “For that, I’m exiled here.” Klexi’s eyes fell to his feet. He wore boots as rugged as his uniform. “I’ve been forsaken, but, there is hope,” he whispered. “Where do you come from on Earth?” Klexi asked in a normal voice.
“New York. You know our geography?”
“A little. My people monitored your world for decades. We were trained extensively before the final command was given to go to your solar system. I was greatly interested in your planet. I couldn’t help wonder how two very different races can look so much alike in two very different corners of the galaxy.”
“I’ve thought a lot about that myself.” Lynn said.
“Do you have any special skills?”
“I worked with computers. Mainly programming.”
“All thanks to Uxlt,” Klexi said. His eyes trailed up to the dusty skies. “You are a divine send.”
“Why?”
“I need someone with computer experience to help me escape,” Klexi said in a low voice.
“Escape? How?”
Klexi glanced over his shoulders and leaned close to Lynn. Lynn caught a sweaty reek, his nostrils wrinkling. “I can get us away from here to a place where we can break into the control systems and signal for a shuttle out of here. I’ll take you if you help me.”
Lynn backed further. “I apologize,” Klexi said, backing slightly. “There’s no use for water here, except to drink when it’s issued. The New Zimlliaans drained all the liquid from this planet.”
“You really think we can escape?”
Klexi nodded. “It’s really very simple. I just need a few more days to monitor them.” He motioned with his eyes toward the soldiers and androids. “Let’s go inside.”
Lynn followed the lanky New Zimlliaan into a darkened chamber. Chattering and singing coming from the aboriginal natives. “What with them?” Lynn asked.
“Primitives. They think the New Zimlliaans are gods and serve without question.”
“Will they give us away?”
“No. They don’t understand our languages. As near as I can guess, they believe this is their preordained fate, their paradise.”
“What a sad existence.”
“Easy to control,” Klexi corrected him gently. He led Lynn to a cot-like bed with a battered mattress and dirt stained blankets and sat.
Lynn slipped out of his shoes to empty the sand. “Don’t leave anything laying around,” Klexi warned. “They have no concept of ownership. They will take it.”
“I can't undress?”
“Not unless you want to wind up with nothing,” Klexi said. “You don’t think I’d still have my chronograph otherwise, do you?” He held up his wrist. Klexi wore a silver metal watch.
Lynn pulled his sneakers back on. He sat on the cot next to his new found ally. Klexi didn’t remove anything. Lynn sniffed at the air. Rank odors filled entire barrack. “You’ll get used to it once your olfactory nerves are numb.”
“It’s gonna drive me crazy till then,” Lynn said.
The yellow beings cheered. A door opened on the far end of the structure. “Feeding time,” Klexi said.
A New Zimlliaan pushed a hovering table down the aisle loaded with plastic containers. He passed one out to each prisoner. When Lynn and Klexi received their jugs, Klexi popped his open and took a long swallow. Lynn sniffed at his and took a taste, frowning. “What is it?”
“Nutrient fluid. It’s water based and contains the vitamins and protein needed to sustain the body for a day.”
“How often do we get it?”
“Once in the morning, once at night,” Klexi said. “During labor hours, only water is given.” He downed his drink, setting the container aside. Then he lay back on the cot, stretching. Lynn sat on the one nearest Klexi’s head, laying with his head near the New Zimlliaan. “I’m happy to meet you,” Klexi said. “It’s maddening not being able to carry on an intelligent conversation with anyone. I daresay you saved my sanity.” Lynn let a slight smile cross his lips.
“This is going to take a lot of getting used to,” Lynn said.
“It gets worse,” Klexi chuckled.
Lynn sighed. “I’m sure.”
“Sleep well, friend,” Klexi said. “Tomorrow will be long and hot.”
Klexi was soon asleep. Lynn listened to the chattering of the yellow creatures as his eyes closed. A scent drifted up into his nose. He sniffed. What is that? Pulling at his shirt, Lynn realized it was himself. He groaned.
* * *
“The alpha waves changed pattern again,” Jadyn reported to Javen. A red triangular holographic computer display projected the brain waves of the young woman and the gargantuan plant. “It’s feeding her a new dream.”
“Apparently, each time her brain activity falters, the dream changes when we revitalize her,” Javen said. He circled the pyre, standing next to his fellow officer.
“What do you intend to do with these Psionic Dreamers?” Jadyn logged information on his holographic pad.
“We can use slaves from all across the galaxy. They can be transported much cheaper by having the plants feed on them as opposed to the expenses presented with the equipment required to operate the psionic fields.”
Jadyn shook his head slightly. “I’m sorry, sir, I don’t follow.”
“It’s very simple,” Javen said. “These plants are grown for their leafy vegetable matter. By transporting slaves and plants together, we’re shipping two for the price of one in hibernation chambers. A clever solution indeed.”
“What exactly does the plant do to the host?”
Javen cleared his throat, walking the circumference of the pyre. He watched the young woman’s bare breasts, rise and fall with controlled, rhythmic breathing. Her eyes were closed. “Inserted near the breast bone is a root collecting food. The Psionic Dreamer is a parasite. Living off its host. Flourishing until cultivation. In return, a network of sensors weaves into the host’s brain impulses, feeding them a dream; their heart’s content.”
“She’s dreaming?”
“Correct,” Javen said. “Perhaps she’s dreaming of being a child bouncing on her father’s knee. Maybe she’s a princess or a queen. Whatever it is she wanted to attain out of her life. At any rate, she’s happy.”
“Can they resist?” Jadyn wondered.
“Yes,” Javen said. “But, to do so would be like tearing an arm off.”

Chapter III

“…are off,” the voice on the television said as Mary woke. She gazed around the hotel suite. There was a picture of a man on the screen who to talked too fast for his own thoughts. She brushed dark waves of hair back from her eyes and sat, the slit of her negligee exposing cleavage. Jeanclair had his back to her. He stood by the window, gazing out.
“Yes, we have a connection again,” the man on TV said. “Their entry into Earth’s atmosphere seems to be disrupting communications.” The television screen suddenly switched to a scene overlooking New York Harbor. What Mary saw defied all logic. Her mouth gaped. None of the announcer’s words reached her ears.
Flying low over the Atlantic Ocean was the blazing ruby bulk of an impossibly huge, impossibly massive object approaching the city. Blue sky was bisected with streaks of gray and white smoke. Whatever it was loomed majestically over New York Harbor, casting shadows like storm clouds over the city below. Eventually, the object was distinguishable as three separate masses. As leader’s nose cleared the edge of Manhattan Island, its center drifted above the Statue of Liberty. Without warning, her out-stretched arm broke away, lazily toppling to the statue’s base, smashing against brick in a shower like broken glass.
The incredibly massive ships were identical; flat, rectangular bodies with straight edge noses. Both side edges on all the craft were bent down seventy degrees. Their undersides were lined with cylinder-shaped objects leading back to exhaust ports. Top platforms supported a cityscape of buildings and control towers. Several blocks formed one gigantic skyscraper supporting the bulk of an odd hexagonal-shaped bridge with several coning towers on top.
“Dear God, what is happening?” Mary mumbled as she crawled fully from bed. She quickly pulled a robe over her scantily clad form.
Jeanclair turned from