Captive

by Cheryl Brooks

  “I know a shortcut. Come with me.” With that, he trotted down the steps, leaving Klara to follow as best she could.

  Considerably hampered by the long, flowing dress and high-heeled sandals the birds had made her wear, she wished she’d done more than think about clobbering Jaquet. Stopping briefly, she ripped off most of the bottom half of the dress and started to kick off the sandals before concluding that running barefoot through whatever shortcut Harlex had in mind probably wasn’t a good idea. She’d have given half of Pelarus’s wealth for her usual clothes, especially her boots.

  Or her own pair of wings.

  Moe didn’t have the slightest idea where Pelarus was going. Fortunately, he was flying low enough to be seen.

  As Moe darted through the gate, Zract shouted, “Spaceport!” before tossing him a pulse pistol.

  Moe caught it on the fly. “Got it! Thanks!” He kept right on running while calculating the distance to the spaceport and wishing he’d eaten a more sustaining lunch. At least he hadn’t exerted himself very much in the arena. Pelarus, on the other hand, had probably partaken of a four-course meal.

  Might slow him down a bit if he did.

  With that in mind, Moe doubled his speed hoping he still had some strength left when he got there.

  A speeder sure would come in handy right about now, not to mention some backup.

  A glance over his shoulder proved that the prisoners swarming out of the arena were all running in the same direction, and if the weapons they were brandishing were any indication, they were bent on revenge.

  Then again, he had a pulse pistol. If he could get close enough, he could shoot Pelarus out of the sky.

  Moments later, he was soaring through the air after being scooped up by an enormous, leather-winged bird. Thankful he hadn’t been crushed in the creature’s cruel-looking beak, Moe scrambled to readjust his position to straddle the bird and ride it, rather than being slung over its back like a sack of flour.

  “It’s me, Nex,” the bird said. “This is my kradjet form.”

  “You might have warned me,” Moe shouted. “I damn near dropped the gun.”

  “Sorry,” Nexbit said. “I was having enough trouble picking you up. You’re really fast, you know.”

  Moe didn’t know why he’d been surprised. After all the weird shit that had gone down that day, nothing was impossible. “Mind telling me why you haven’t tried this disguise before?”

  “Didn’t think of it. Not always practical, either. Kradjets aren’t normally as big as I am. People would be suspicious.”

  Given the circumstances, arousing suspicion seemed a minor concern. “You could’ve flown us out of the arena instead of standing around pretending to fight.”

  “Could’ve flown you out of the arena. Not sure I could’ve carried Temfilk and the Racks. Plus, I’d have had to go back for Klara.”

  “Okay. I get it. No worries.” He stared at the diminishing speck that was Pelarus. “Think you can catch him before he gets to the spaceport?”

  “Probably not, but I can try.”

  At least in the air they could keep their quarry in sight, and Moe wouldn’t have to thread his way between buildings and other obstacles. The only problem would be if they got too close and Pelarus started shooting. Moe couldn’t imagine a tyrant like Pelarus going anywhere unarmed, even if he was only planning to sit on his throne to enjoy the spectacle.

  “Might want to keep a safe distance, though,” Moe cautioned. “Wouldn’t put it past him to take a few potshots at us.”

  “I may have to put you down before that,” Nexbit said with a note of apology in his voice. “As I’ve said before, morphing requires energy, and you should’ve see the paltry lunch they gave me. Barely enough to keep a real kradjet in the air, much less me.”

  “To be honest, I’m surprised you can fly at all. It’s not like you’ve had much practice.”

  “Flying is actually quite easy, once you have wings.”

  “Must be nice,” Moe grumbled.

  “It is. There’s nothing quite like the freedom of flight.”

  Moe knew what it was like to zoom through space, and he’d had plenty of experience piloting a variety of smaller, atmospheric-based aircraft, but he had to admit, this version had its charm. “Oh, yeah. The wind in your hair, the bugs in your face. No, wait. You don’t have hair.” He took a moment to study the creature Nexbit had become and found it a tad repulsive. “Kinda ugly, too.”

  “Not my first choice of birds, but the leathery wings are easier to duplicate than feathers. Tried it once. Total disaster.”

  To his surprise, given their current predicament, Moe burst out laughing. Then again, they were free. Even if Pelarus got clean away, what had once been his domain would be far better off.

  Unless some other tyrant moved in. “Any idea who should take over and run this place?”

  “I’m thinking a democratically elected government with representatives from each region. Might take a while to organize, but it would be the best solution for everyone. That Yirland lady would be my first choice for whatever they call the leader around here.”

  “Until recently, it was ‘Master.’” Which was a word that made Moe want to vomit. His father had been a slave, and although his mother had purchased Cat and subsequently freed him, being only one generation away from slavery was enough to make “master” a dirty word in Moe’s lexicon.

  A significant clearing of his throat prefaced Nexbit’s next comment. “I figure they’ll change that.”

  “Probably so. We can only hope the transition will be swift and peaceful.” With so many Nedwuts on the loose, a dissolution into anarchy wouldn’t be pleasant, whether the guards had crossed over to the other side or not.

  After all the years of Moe’s kind being hunted down by Nedwuts, any form of mutual cooperation would be something of an oddity. Then again, never having developed an acquaintance with any of them, how the hell would he know? They might be naturally peace-loving puppy dogs.

  Yeah, right. More like dogs that love chasing cats.

  And money. Klara’s experiences with those who had hunted her were proof that any Nedwut could be bought off. Maybe if they were given their own country…

  “Are there any other livable areas on this planet? Somewhere the Nedwuts could relocate?”

  “Not that I know of,” Nexbit replied. “I’ve heard there are other Haedusian villages, but conditions are pretty harsh all over. From what I understand, this is the best place to be, mainly because of the traffic through the spaceport.”

  Moe nodded. If the entire planet was as barren as Srekatoa, most of the indigenous people had probably died out. Recalling Velkma’s description of the world when she was young, a massive die-off must have occurred within a relatively short span of time. With that in mind, letting Pelarus escape with the loot simply wasn’t an option.

  “Pelarus is gonna have to pay for what he’s done to this world.”

  “He couldn’t be the only one responsible,” Nexbit reasoned. “Probably had help, don’t you think?”

  “Maybe. But he’s the one we’re chasing.” Even though Moe had kept his eyes glued to Pelarus’s diminishing figure, he now appeared to have vanished. “Speaking of which, I can’t see him anymore. Can you?”

  “Nope. But I know where the spaceport is. We’ll get him or die trying.”

  Nexbit redoubled his efforts, but when, moments later, they suddenly began losing altitude, the latter possibility seemed the most probable. “Can’t keep this up much longer,” he gasped. “You might have to run the rest of the way.”

  “I can do that,” Moe said. “Just set me down somewhere. Gently. Then you can rest up and come after me.”

  Their rapid descent made further conversation impossible. Nexbit lost his kradjet form several meters above the ground, which made the landing far from gentle. Moe was ready. Leaping from Nexbit’s back, he hit the ground rolling and was on his feet and running in seconds. Nexbit’s help had been inva
luable in allowing Moe to rest and conserve his energy.

  He hoped it was enough.

  After following Harlex through a dizzying maze of steep stairs and dimly lit passageways, Klara was completely disoriented. “Where did you say we were going?”

  The Nedwut glanced back over his shoulder. “It’s a shortcut to one of the lesser-known exits. There’s a speeder there.” He paused, catching his breath after jogging down one of the longer flights of steps. “At least there should be. With the whole city going to hell in a hand basket, it might’ve been stolen already.”

  “Great.” Klara didn’t relish running all the way to the spaceport in a pair of flimsy high-heeled sandals. Once again, she would have given a bundle for her boots. And her speeder. “Speaking of speeders, don’t suppose you know whether mine was destroyed in the fire, do you?”

  “Dunno,” he replied. “I’m a castle guard. The Barrens are out of my jurisdiction.”

  She fought the urge to laugh. “I had no idea you guys were so specialized.”

  “You’d be surprised. Like I said before, I wasn’t one of the hunters you paid to let you go. Those of us who serve in the palace are more, um, cultured than the hunters and prison guards.”

  This time, laughter got the better of her. She’d noticed the disparity, however slight, herself. What she hadn’t considered was that the difference was a question of culture. “So you’re saying there are a variety of social classes among Nedwuts?”

  He skidded to a halt and spun around to face her. “Are you kidding me? Of course there are, and the higher classes treat the rest of us like shit. Why else would we have left home?”

  “Point taken,” she said, although she sincerely doubted their life on Haedus Nine was significantly better than the one they’d left behind. Noting that they’d reached a wide hall where three passages intersected with a stone stairway, she pointed toward the steps. “That way?”

  With a nod, he sped down the stairs, making far less noise with his bare feet and curved toenails than Klara did in her sandals. Moments later, he slammed into a door at the bottom of the stairs and forced it open. His subsequent howl told her the answer to her question long before she’d taken a breath to ask it.

  She followed him into a tiny alcove to the right of the door that was just big enough for a speeder. An empty alcove. “Looks like we were too slow.”

  Stepping outside, she glanced at the dusty streets leading away from the arena and cursed her sandals once again. Running all the way to the spaceport was pointless. By the time she got there, she’d be too late to catch Pelarus or help Moe. Added to the fact that she’d be dead lame.

  Think, Klara.

  If her speeder had been salvaged from the fire and remained intact, it might actually respond to her whistle if it were near enough to hear her. Unfortunately, she’d never tested the limits of its range. Still, it was worth a try.

  She whistled. Once. Twice. Three times.

  She was about to give up when a soft whine to her left had her shoulders sagging in relief. “Looks like some of your buddies stole my speeder before it got burned to a crisp.”

  “Sounds like something they would do,” Harlex chortled. “Probably sold it to one of the local merchants.”

  This proved to be true. The speeder was the same dark blue it had always been, but the side panels had been emblazoned with the logo for Chagatut’s Fresh Food. There was even a crate of wilted-looking radishes in the rear seat.

  “Someone’s gonna be pissed,” Harlex remarked as he tossed the crate onto the dusty street.

  Klara was already strapping herself into the pilot’s seat. “If you’re coming with me, climb in and hang on.”

  Never in all her wildest dreams would Klara have imagined having a Nedwut sidekick. Harlex had surprised her, although she wasn’t convinced he wouldn’t double-cross her at some point. Then again, if she and her gang succeeded in catching Pelarus and somehow getting Moe’s starship back, they might be his best hope of getting offworld. She started to ask him where he would like to go before concluding that almost anywhere was better than Haedus Nine.

  “I’m in,” he announced, slapping the side of the speeder. “Hit it!”

  She closed the canopy, aimed the nose toward the spaceport, and slid her fingertip up the control bar for maximum speed.

  Arriving too late was not an option.

  Chapter 24

  As she threaded the speeder between pedestrians and the occasional vehicle, Klara chastised herself for not knowing more about her enemy. “Still can’t fathom why I didn’t know about the wings. Although it does explain why the little bird women are so loyal. They probably think he’s really hot.”

  Harlex let out a disgusted snort. “Yeah, well, there’s no accounting for taste, is there? I’ve always thought he was a butt-ugly bastard. Really bad hair, too.” After a contemplative pause, he added, “Never thought the birds were very cute, either.”

  Klara’s fangs nearly drew blood as she bit her lip to keep from laughing. “Neither did I,” she finally managed to say. She was about to ask what sort of life form a Nedwut would consider cute when she realized she really didn’t want to know.

  What she did want to know was how he’d convinced the other Nedwuts to turn on Pelarus. “So tell me, was the mass revolt of the guards your doing?”

  “Not really. Word came from the dungeons that something was up. Not sure who got the ball rolling, but I’m guessing one of your buddies was responsible.”

  She chuckled as she veered to avoid picking off a family of Scorillians. “With Moe being an essentially honest man, my money is on Temfilk and Nexbit. Once they get an idea, they keep harping on it until you’ll agree to almost anything just to shut them up.”

  “The guards probably didn’t take much convincing,” Harlex admitted. “After a while, you get kinda sick of seeing your boss living like a king while you’re barely scraping by. Once that notion takes root, revolution starts to sound pretty good.”

  “You guys had it better than a lot of people, especially my gang. I mean, you at least had paying jobs and a place to live.”

  “True, but you and your gang were folk heroes. We were just hired muscle.”

  “Too bad that folk hero distinction doesn’t come with a paycheck.” She shook her head. “I still don’t get that part.”

  “Underdogs need heroes more than most, and an underdog who manages to thrive in spite of persecution is an inspiration to everyone except the people in charge.”

  Klara and her gang hadn’t exactly been thriving. Surviving, perhaps. But not thriving. After a brief internal debate, she simply said, “I suppose so.” Although, once again, she was struck by the inherent humor of their conversation. “What made you so philosophical?”

  “Years of guard duty,” he replied. “Most of the time, about all you can do is stand there and think. It’s a wonder more guards don’t come up with radical ideas.”

  “Probably because all most of them think about is going home.” In her quieter moments, Klara had pondered the best ways of keeping her gang safe and fed. Nothing else had ever seemed as important. Now she would have children to look after.

  And Moe…

  She banked the speeder into the last turn before the long, straight road to the spaceport, then tapped the control panel hoping to coax a little more power from the engine. Before she could think about keeping Moe safe and fed, she first had to ensure that he didn’t die.

  As they sped down the road, she began to notice several groups of Haedusians heading in the same direction. She waved a hand toward one of the larger clusters. “Any idea what that’s all about?”

  “Dunno,” Harlex replied. “Might be following Moe and Pelarus, same as us. Maybe hoping to be on hand for the final showdown.”

  Klara let out a derisive laugh. “If there is a showdown. Pelarus had a big head start on the rest of us.”

  “Even so, he might be in for a surprise when he gets to the spaceport. Don’t know how f
ar the word has spread, but he may have a hard time finding anyone to help him. Not being the type to get his hands dirty, I’d be willing to bet he doesn’t know how to fly a ship.”

  “You’re probably right.” If only it could be that simple. An entire city against one man with wings and possibly a pulse pistol or two rather than Moe taking him on singlehanded. “We really need to catch him alive, though. I mean, if he dies before we figure out where all the money went…”

  “We’re no better off than we were before,” Harlex concluded. “Still, with him gone, things are bound to improve. They can’t be any worse.”

  Klara disagreed. Having lived on the street for most of her life, she’d known fear, hunger, and despair. Without any semblance of law and order—no matter how autocratic—conditions could get much, much worse. Without anyone to pay for the goods they carried, supply ships wouldn’t even bother to land. Before long, there would be panic in the streets, with people fighting over the last of the food and what little water remained. Thousands might die before help arrived, if indeed it ever did. The mere thought made her shudder. Oh, yes, life in Srekatoa could get very ugly very quickly. And if the Nedwuts were to take over…

  As allies went, she wasn’t convinced they were the best choice, despite being the strongest, if not the most numerous, allies she had. Harlex had never sat in on one of the Haedusian women’s meetings, nor had any of the others. She wasn’t sure they even knew what the women had been up to.

  “So… do you and the other Nedwut guards have a plan of any kind?”

  “You mean like the women of this city? Not really. We figure we can work for them just as easily as Pelarus. It’s a gamble, but we’re counting on them to treat us better.”

  After all the Nedwuts had done to the natives—whether by Pelarus’s orders or not—Klara wasn’t so sure about that. Then she was struck with another realization. “Hold on. Are you saying you guys knew about the women’s movement?”