“How long until we reach Soputto?”
“This craft will make seven jumps with two layovers to get to the outer reaches. A word of advice…watch your back. There’re those aboard that’ll rob ya blind and leave ya for dead. They know no one gives a da’am ’bout ya.” He indicated a pair of gray coveralls on the berth. “Them grays’re for you. Captain says everyone earns their passage. You got tonight to settle in. With the morn, report to the galley. Looks like you’re gonna learn to cook.”
Wolloh buzzed the door shut. After carefully folding his jacket and removing his silk cravat, he tucked his pack and satchel into the locker along with his boots. Ignoring the hunger gnawing at his stomach, he stretched out on his berth and closed his eyes. His father had warned him not to do anything foolish. Like it would matter. What else could the Roahymnians do to him? He rolled on his side and tried to sleep.
Bells chiming half six woke him to the clatter of boots and the murmur of conversation in the companionway. After his initial doze the night before, sleep had been elusive. He had tossed and turned and felt a sense of relief when it was time to rise. A yawn turned into a stretch. Swinging his legs out of the berth, he picked up the gray cover-alls and scowled. The coarsely woven material scratched his hand. As for style…he shivered with distaste, donned them with a grimace, and shoved his feet into his boots. After a trip down the hall to the head, he made his way to the galley.
“Hey, you, pretty boy, hear you been bad.” A long, angular face peered at him from behind a half door. “Don’t look so elegant in your grays, huh?”
Wolloh studied the shadow of a beard on the man’s chin. “I’ve been assigned to the galley. Where do I go?”
The man slid the door open and gave a sarcastic half bow. “In here, pretty boy. I’m the galley chief. Apron’s over there. We got fresh fruit for the first time in many moon circuits. The men are going to love it. Start choppin’.”
A crate of fruit sat on a pristine counter with a large knife and a cutting board. Wolloh tied a pale gray apron around his waist and reached for the knife. A hand grabbed his wrist in a vice-like grip. “What’id you do to get banned?” The man’s nose was an inch from his own. “Can I trust ya with a blade?”
Wolloh narrowed his eyes. “If you don’t release my wrist now, I’ll do to you what I did to get myself banned.”
The man laughed. “Right, pretty boy. Make me.”
With a quick move of his hand, Wolloh slammed his imprisoned wrist up under the galley chief’s chin. The man’s head whipped back. He stumbled into the counter. Cutlery scattered, littering the floor. Fury flushed the homely face red. Anger bulged his eyes. Righting himself, he prepared to lunge.
“I wouldn’t.” A voice from the door froze him in place.
Wolloh, who had watched impassively, glanced at Bany’s serious expression and nodded.
“Captain made it clear no one’s to touch this man. You forget?”
The cook straightened. “Just funnin’ and he took it wrong.”
Bany sauntered over to the crate and picked up a piece of fruit. “Been standing in the door a bit. Seemed to me you picked the fight.” He bit into a round, red fruit, one Wolloh had never seen before. “Mmmmm. Good. Think I’ll stick around a bit. Best get cookin’, Tade. The men’re gettin’ impatient.”
Tade scowled and turned back to the stove. Bany pointed at the fruit. “Chop away. We only get real food when we have a layover. Rest of the time, we’re on short rations.”
Wolloh picked up the knife and began. The rhythm of chopping accompanied the sense of futility that wanted to overwhelm him. Can’t give up. Won’t give up. The chopping became more vigorous. Maybe anger isn’t such a bad thing. If nothing else, it makes me want to keep on living.
Morning meal was served, and midday begun. The fresh provisions would last only a few sun returns, and then he would not be needed in the galley…thank Ecorus.
When he finished work, Bany gave him a tour of the jump craft. Portals and gateways made travel fast and easy within one’s own solar system, but jumpers provided passage to other solar systems or galaxies. A sleek vessel that looked like a bullet, it could traverse most places in the Inner Universe by using the wormhole-like vortexes scattered throughout it. No one seemed to know how the wormholes were created or why. The fact that they cut travel time to minutes instead of lifetimes made them the route of choice…at least in this galaxy.
RewFaar was the only planet in Wolloh’s solar system that had attained the technological level to support a Jump Port. Some jump crafts carried freight, others passengers, rarely both. The Trecosu was a freighter with a crew of eighteen and room for an occasional passenger.
Wolloh followed Bany down the companionway. “This is quite a craft, Bany. Have you been on it long?”
“Hired on a couple if moon circuits back. Liked the captain, so I stayed. He’s from Roahymn and fair to a fault.”
Three men stepped from an open hatch led by Tade, the galley chief. “Now what have we here? The captain’s pet and pretty boy.” He sauntered closer. His companions fell in behind, blocking the narrow passage. He jerked a thumb at Wolloh, but continued to talk to Bany. “Captain know you’ve taken ’im on?” Another step brought him eye to eye with Wolloh. “Banned means really bad, right?”
Fighting the desire to smash the man’s face in, Wolloh held his arms rigid. “Haven’t we already established who’s the toughest here?”
Tade’s arm went back. A big knuckled fist landed full force in Wolloh’s gut. He double over, gathered his strength, and lunged. His shoulder slammed Tade in the chest. The galley chief reeled backward. A comrade righted him and stepped away.
The sound of boots against the metal floor made the men behind Tade glance at each another. The captain rounded the corner and stopped. The crew snapped to attention. Wolloh turned to face him.
An expression of annoyance laced with anger flashed across the captain’s face. “When I give an order, Tade, I expected it to be obeyed. Take yourself off to the brig and stay there for a full return. When you have served your time, report to my office. I’ll decide then what to do with you.” He looked at the two men standing attention behind him. “I’d choose my friends more carefully if I were you. There’s freight to sort and stow. Go lend a hand.”
They sidled by him and hurried away. Tade followed more slowly.
“Move it, Tade. The guard at the brig will let me know how long it takes you to arrive at his door. If you take longer than I know is necessary, you won’t like the end result.”
The galley chief marched away, muttering under his breath.
Keeping his side to Wolloh, the captain looked at Bany. “I hear this is the second time you have had to step into a fight. Thanks. Take this man back to his quarters.” He strode away.
Wolloh felt heat color his face as he stared at the disappearing figure. “Why does he care if I make it off his ship alive? He can’t even look at me?”
Bany sighed. “You’re banned and Captain Zuill is Roahymnian. He can’t look at ya. Let’s get you to your quarters. Looks like ya won’t be learnin’ to cook after all.”
Captain Zuill had left the galley chief behind at the first layover stop after RewFaar. From that moment, no one but Bany spoke to Wolloh or even looked him in the eye. Banished a second time in as many moon circuits. He sat in a darkened corner of the crew’s lounge. A layover on Persow and a final jump and we’ll be on Soputto. Anxiety tugged at his surface calm. What will life be like in a penal colony?
Bany appeared at his elbow. “Captain wants you in his quarters.”
Wolloh hid his surprise and followed the only friend he had on the shuttle through the lounge and down the passageway. At the door to the captain’s quarters, Bany stopped and pressed a buzzer.
The door slid open. “Come in.”
Wolloh entered. The door slid shut. The space was small and neat. No clutter. Nothing out of place. Captain Zuill stood staring at a V-Viewer. He did not lift his e
yes from the screen.
“I am breaking Roahymnian law by speaking to you.” He held out his hand still looking at the viewer. “This is a message from your father. I don’t know what it says nor do I wish to. I am doing this for him and for your MaMa.”
Wolloh picked up a black disc the size of a button from his palm. “You’re last name suggests you are birth-related to my mother.”
“She is important to me. Now go.”
Wolloh turned to leave.
“Take care of yourself, boy.”
The door opened. He strode down the hall to the sound of it sliding shut.
When he reached his quarters, he locked the door and lay down on his berth. With a thumbnail, he pressed a groove on the edge of the disc and then placed it in his ear. The message was short and to the point.
“Jump ship at Persow, your last layover. Find a village called Geela. Seek out a man named Relevart. Tell him I sent you. Ecorsu be with you, Son. Destroy this.”
Wolloh removed the disc and lay for a moment, the message repeating in his head. His father, the most honest man he knew, was telling him to escape. He must have a good reason. The buzz of his door alarm made him jump. Sliding off his berth, he placed the disc on the floor and ground it to a fine powder under the heel of his boot. The buzzer sounded a second time. He knelt and blew the powder scattering it like dust in the wind.
Bany waited in the companionway. He stepped into Wolloh’s quarters and indicated the door with a nod.
Wolloh pushed the icon on the touchpad. It slid shut. Bany nudged him as far away from it as possible.
“Persow is our next stop. I’m going to hide you in the cargo bay. You need to slip out the bay doors. The portal is at the edge of a forest. Don’t stop running until you are well inside its boundaries. If we do this right, no one will miss you until Soputto.”
“Why are you helping me?”
“Let’s just say I owe your father. After this, we’ll be square. Get your stuff. I’d travel light if I was you.”
Wolloh quickly repacked. Putting only the bare essentials in his backpack, he returned the satchel to the locker. Bany grabbed the pack and shouldered it. “You make your way to the cargo bay and hide in the supply space across the passage. I’ll get you when the coast is clear. If you can avoid being seen, that’d help.”
“No one will see me. Don’t get caught with my pack.”
“The crew’s in a meetin’. I’ll be fine. Give me time to clear this area, then hustle.” He hit the touchpad and vanished down the passageway.
Wolloh waited several clicks of the chronometer and then made his way in a circuitous route to the storage space. No one had seen him. He’d made sure of that for Bany’s sake.
Time passed with the slowness of water caught in the clutches of winter. Wonder if Bany’s okay? Will this work? Why am I doing this? Restlessness laced with anxiety made sweat roll down the side of his face. He brushed it away with an impatient hand. The need to know what was happening tempted him to open the door. He reached toward the touchpad. Voices outside made him drop his hand and press further back in the space. The sound of machinery and the barking of orders informed him the crew was at work. After what seemed like a full sun return an alarm sounded. Running feet, a chaos of voices, and a sudden silence made him inch closer to the door. It slid open to pitch black. A body blocked his path.
“Stay low and follow close.” Bany’s whisper was barely audible. He moved away, his tread barefoot silent. Wolloh followed the soft scrape of his boot soles, the only sound in the space. Air wafting in alerted him to the close proximity of the open cargo bay.
A pack was shoved into his hands. “Cut to the left and you’ll be in the woods before ya know it.” Bany murmured. “Take care. I’ll let your father know if ya make it. Lights’ll be back in seconds. Go.”
Wolloh started to speak.
“No time.” Bany gave him a shove.
He darted down the ramp and ran. Just as he hit the edge of the woods, lights blazed to life on the shuttle and flooded the surrounding area. He sprinted deeper into the trees before he stopped to peer back through the darkness. Silhouetted figures scurried around the cargo bay. Within minutes, the bay doors closed, leaving only external lights to indicate a craft was there. Wolloh turned away and allowed his eyes to adjust to the dark. In the night silence, he zigzagged through the woods. When he felt sure he had left the portal far behind, he stopped, alert for sound or smell or motion.
A breeze tweaked his hair and cooled his hot cheeks. The only sounds were those of the night…insects chirping…the rustle of foliage. Ahead a stream sang a song of rocks and eddies and rushing currents. He moved toward it, suddenly thirsty. At its edge he knelt and cupped his hands. Cold water dripped between his fingers as he drank. “I’m on Persow. I’m free. I’m alone.” He stood up and dried his hands on his overalls. “Thanks, Bany,” he whispered. “I won’t forget you.”
He trudged through the woods until early dawn brought its warm glow to the horizon. Feeling fairly certain that no one followed, he found a hollow at the foot of a tall tree, curled up in a tight ball around his pack, and slept.
The heat of the day and the buzz of tiny black insects woke him to the realization that he might be truly free. Wonder when they’ll discover I’m missing? He shoved the thought aside. Inside the front flap of his pack, he discovered a package of short rations and a piece of fruit. Bany… After eating just enough to take the edge off his hunger, he relieved himself and shrugged his pack onto his back. Closing his eyes, he repeated the name Geela over and over until his internal compass, one he had possessed all his life, gave him a clear indication of what direction he needed to travel. By late in the day, he had covered enough ground to make him weary and his feet ache.
As he rounded a bend in the track he had been following, a small shack came into view. Wisps of smoke colored the air above the chimney gray. The sound of an ax hitting wood came from somewhere close by. Making his way toward the repetitive rhythm, he came to a stop where the vibration jarred the ground beneath his feet. Between golden leaves, he watched a man who appeared to be just older then himself swinging the axe. A log split away from the blade and fell to the ground in two pieces. The man leaned on the axe handle, his face obscured by the changing light. A slow turn brought him around to face Wolloh’s leafy bush.
“If ya be a friend, come into the open. If ya be an enemy…”
Wolloh stepped free of the foliage. “Good day.”
The man glanced up at the sky and back. “Days about done. How can I help you?”
The words were heavily accented but discernible. “I’m looking for a man named Relevart.”
Leaning the axe against the chopping stump, he wiped his brow. “Relevart is not easy to find.” He looked again at the sky and sniffed the air. “Weather’s ’bout to change. You’d best stay here tonight. Chances are he’ll find you or give you a sign to guide your search. I’m called Velar.”
“Wolloh’s my name. I’m happy to earn my lodging.” He indicated the woodpile. “I have a pretty good axe arm.”
Velar smiled, broad and easy. “Can you cook? A man gets tired of his own fare.”
“I can.”
“Good.” He led the way into the shack. “Put your pack over there, and let’s see what we can find to eat.”
After depositing his pack in a spotless corner, Wolloh took stock of his surroundings. The one spacious room was divided into a kitchen space, a sitting area, and a sleeping space. He marveled at the lack of dust and clutter. Everything had its place and everyplace was tidy to a fault.
The smoke he had seen from outside came from a cook stove in the far corner. Under the windows on either side of the door were shelves filled with books. A fireplace covered one wall, each stone placed exactly. On the immaculate hearth, a fire had been laid. Two chairs faced it. Bunk beds lined the opposite wall. At their foot, an ancient wooden trunk, waxed to a lustrous shine, gleamed in the dim light.
Wo
lloh crossed to the table next to the stove on which a slab of meat and a pile of fresh vegetables waited and pushed up his sleeves. “Got anything to help this along?”
Velar pointed at a rickety door. “In there. Help yourself.”
Wolloh ducked into a dim space and discovered a treasure trove. Spices of all kinds hung from the ceiling in neatly tied bundles. Fresh garlic, small round onions, and a variety of root vegetables, some he recognized…some he didn’t, filled baskets on a long, low table. Making his selections, he returned to the kitchen area and began chopping. Soon a savory stew bubbled on top of the stove, its scents mingling with wood smoke and a musky smell that permeated the shack.
Velar, who had left him to his own devices, appeared in the doorway, two tall mugs in hand and offered one. “Persow ale. The best brew in the outer rim.” A deep draw left a foamy mustache along his upper lip. Licking it, he grinned, sniffed the air, and laughed. “Life is good.”
Wolloh drank from his mug. “Now that’s what I call da’am good! Do you make your own?”
“Nope. Have a friend down the way that makes sure I have a supply. Smells luscious in here. How long ’til we eat?”
“Bout half a chron circle.”
Velar plopped down in a chair. “Where’re you from?”
After a moment’s hesitation Wolloh said, “Made the jump here from RewFaar.”
“Let’s see that’s about six jumps and a layover away. And your reason for being here is to find Relevart?”
“My father sent me to find him. Do you know him?”
“I’ve met him, if that’s what you mean. Doubt anyone truly knows him.”
“Who is he… I mean is he from Persow? What does he do?”
“He’s a member of the Order of Esprow. Last I heard he was mentoring a young man who wanted to become a DiMensioner. You interested in the Art of DiMensionery?”
The UnFolding Collection Two Page 51