Balant: A Beginning

by Sam Smith

  “Do you want to remain on the ship?” I asked him.

  "No," he soberly shook his head. "I'll just be glad when this whole business is over and done with."

  "Let’s go then," I said.

  They came with me to the command room. I wanted them both to watch me handling the ship, would have liked one of them to have made a practise landing, but at this juncture we could not risk any errors. As soon as we were through the atmosphere I dismissed them both with a nod. They picked up their spacesuits and left.

  Acknowledging their arrival in the gun spheres, I took the ship in low over the rounded red hills; and, two hills distant from the mine, I gently set the ship down. Dousing the engines and the command room lights, we then waited, as planned, for half an hour — to see if any of the guards had heard our arrival and would come to investigate. I had the magnifiers aligned at the gap in the hills above the mine, the co-ordinates ready to pass on to Dag and Malamud on the guns.

  After ten minutes Malamud said,

  "Any sign?”

  “No," I said, "Sit tight."

  Nothing moved on that dying planet, not even a shadow.

  "Right,” I told Dag and Malamud. "Spacesuits on."

  I remained in the command room, began donning my own spacesuit. Once I had it on I waited two more slow minutes, then lowered the ramp. The light from it flashed out across the hills.

  Leaving the ramp lights on, I again waited. Soon I saw Dag and Malamud, moving awkwardly in their spacesuits, emerge from below the ship. We had our radios switched off in case one of the guards should have a receiver, pick up our transmissions.

  With one last look around the knobbled horizon I made my way down to the ramp and hurried after my two friends.

  They had stopped just beyond the light from the ramp. That was not according to plan. Worriedly glancing about me I reached them. Dag pointed with his gun to a body. It was one of the slaves, the chain still attached to his ankles. He had been beaten before he had been killed.

  Leaning down to the body I lifted the ragged tunic to show Dag and Malamud the lesions on the slave's back. I wanted them to witness for themselves the damage the guards had done that man, to see of what low calibre were those guards, to share my indignation. They both nodded.

  Malamud drew my attention to the tracks the slave had left in the red dust. The tracks led off to our left. To Malamud's silent query I shook my head and pointed directly before us. The slave, running away possibly, and blinded by panic and pain, must have run in a half-circle before collapsing and dying.

  Going ahead of Dag and Malamud I cautiously approached the purplish mound of ore, until I was at last looking down upon the black mine entrance. I pointed it out to my two friends. They nodded; and, each of us taking a last deep breath, we began rapidly removing our restrictive spacesuits. This, we had decided, was our most vulnerable moment, for we had to lay down our guns to take off our spacesuits. Nor did I believe that we would gain any advantage from undressing in turn, thought it better that we all began simultaneously to breathe the thin air of Onam.

  Leaving my two friends with the discarded spacesuits, I descended the side of the hill to the mine entrance. The closer I came to the entrance I could see that somewhere down in the mine was a deflected light. I stopped at the entrance.

  The mine's wide corridor sloped gently to a sharp corner. From around that corner the yellow light shone.

  I beckoned Dag and Malamud to join me. When they reached me I told them, through sign language, to wait there until I had reached the corner within the mine.

  In the thin air above we hadn’t seemed to make much noise: within the confines of the corridor, though, the crunching of my footsteps seemed to precede me in sharp splinters of sound down the mine.

  As I neared the corner I noticed that opposite the light, set back into the side of the corridor, was a translucent wall. Gun held before me, I edged forward.

  Inset in the wall was a door with a basic clasp lock on the outside. On the floor beside the door was a simple box pump and cylinder. I could make out dark shapes laying on the floor behind the rail.

  Confident that the locked door contained the sleeping slaves, I turned my back to that wall and crept closer to the corner.

  Gun held in readiness I looked around the corner and into the light.

  A few more metres down the slope was a metal cabin. The light came from a window in the door. Beside the door was another box pump and cylinder. Beyond the cabin the mine corridor sank into darkness.

  The cabin being so small I surmised that that was where the four guards slept. Although they were not at that moment asleep — my heart leapt at the sound of their coarse laughter. Through the window, from above, I could see nothing save the floor; but then, I comforted myself, the guards could also see nothing of us unless they stood at the window and looked up; and their own sounds would cover any noise that we might make.

  Hiding myself back around the corner, I beckoned Dag and Malamud to me. They began to creep forward. I signalled them to hurry.

  When they arrived I gestured them to silence and peered once more around the corner at the cabin. All was as before. I turned back to Dag and Malamud.

  "The slaves are in there," I whispered, signified the wall. "The guards are down there in a cabin. Dag, you and I will release the slaves and you will guide them out of the mine. Point them in the direction of the ship. Malamud you will watch the cabin door. Signal to us if any of the guards come near the window. If any should come out of the door, shoot them. Even if they are unarmed." I felt Dag glance sharply at me. But I was unrepentant: the guards had to be left in no doubt that we were in deadly earnest.

  "Do you understand?" I asked Malamud. His head shivered rather than nodded.

  Dag and I returned to the door in the translucent wall. Holstering my gun I cautiously undid the lock. Then, taking my gun in my hand again, I slowly pulled open the door and looked within.

  From among the huddle of bodies on the floor one pair of dark eyes studied me. Holding those eyes, I put a finger to my lips and, gun in hand, made Balant’s palm over knuckle gesture of greeting.

  "Ronan?" I whispered, and stepped towards the eyes.

  The boy sat up and pointed to the rear of the chamber. I gestured to the boy to fetch him. His passage disturbed the sleep of others. They looked over to me with dull eyes. To each I held a finger to my lips.

  Ronan sat up before the boy reached him. Realising that the light was behind me and Ronan could not see my face, I repeated the hand over knuckle greeting, again whispered,

  "Ronan," and for further proof of identity added, "Balant. Pi."

  He immediately rose to his feet and, though impeded by his ankle chains, quickly made his way towards Dag and I. Dag greeted him with some words. Ronan looked from one to the other or us. I beckoned him outside. Apprehensively he stepped through the door.

  Malamud glanced around from his corner, smiled quickly at Ronan, then resumed his watch on the cabin. Dag pointed out of the mine, whispered a few words. Ronan replied, pointing to his mouth and chest: he knew that there was no escape onto the planet. With a flat hand Dag made the motion of a ship, held his hands apart to signify that it was a large ship, with a sweep of his arm indicated that it had room enough for everyone.

  Ronan looked suspiciously from one to the other of us. I did not blame him for his distrust of us — we who had so naively boasted of our civilisation. To convince him of our good intentions I took my spare gun from my belt and pressed it into his hands.

  Dag looked down on me once more aghast — to put a gun in the hand of a savage. Ronan, however, immediately accepted it as it was intended, as a token of our good faith; and, using it as a symbol that we were to be trusted, he roused his people with urgent whispers and pointed them to the open door. Where they stopped.

  Dag was looking on bemused and bewildered by the turn of events. The slaves were waiting on him to lead them out of the mine. I tapped his arm. He looked to me conf
used. I stabbed my finger up at the mine entrance. Gathering his wits he nodded apologetically to me and began leading the slaves up. Again, because of their chains, they shuffled past me. But this time to freedom.

  While the column advanced up the corridor I crossed to Malamud.

  “Seen anything?” I whispered. He did not turn to face me.

  “Bare feet just now. Someone threw something. Someone shouted." For once Malamud seemed at a loss for a glib remark.

  "You touched Ronan," he whispered.

  "They’ve been decontaminated," I reminded him.

  “Of course," he said, took a deep breath.

  "In fact," I said, "if anything they're more in danger of catching something off you."

  Meanwhile the exodus had continued apace. Ronan was the last to leave the chamber. He came down to Malamud and I. I nudged Malamud,

  “Time to go.”

  Malamud and I began to creep away from the corner. But Ronan grabbed my arm, whispered to me. I shrugged, pointed the way out. He vehemently shook his head, pointed down to the cabin. Thinking that he wanted to take his revenge, I again shook my head, made to step past him. Again he stopped me and, whispering furiously, jabbed his gun in the direction of the cabin.

  Dag was watching us from the mine entrance. I beckoned him to join us. Dag looked to the last of the slaves shuffling up the hillside towards the ship; and, eager to join them, he beckoned me. This time it was Ronan who beckoned Dag. Dag came quickly down to us.

  "Ask Ronan what he wants," I told Dag. Dag and Ronan whispered together. With each question and answer Dag’s frown deepened.

  “Ronan says," Dag sighed, "that the guards have got two of the women down there. He won't leave without them."

  Dag could not disguise his disappointment at not having got away without a fight.

  "We have no choice," I told Dag. "This is what we’ll do. Malamud and I will creep down and try to reach the door unseen. Then we will barge in and try to catch them unawares. We will then disarm the guards and release the women. We will not shoot anyone,” I assured Dag, “unless we have to. You and Ronan wait on the corner until we have entered the cabin. Then join us."

  I reached over and switched on Ronan’s gun, with a look questioned if he knew how to use it.

  Malamud and I reached the cabin without mishap. My lungs were aching now from the thin atmosphere. For fear of being seen, and thus giving the guards warning, I did not dare risk a look through the cabin window to see what awaited us. Instead I crouched under the window and, trusting to surprise, I turned the door handle and sprang into the room.

  Malamud and I stood side by side, guns levelled. For a long moment all was still.

  At this end of the cabin was a stack of supplies and mining equipment, and two tables. Two guards were sitting at the nearest table, their guns and a torch on the table before them. Across the far end of the cabin were four beds. One guard was in a corner bed apparently asleep. The two women were laying naked together on another bed, with the fourth guard standing over them.

  The guard in the bed poked his head out of the covers and looked at me. I recognised him. The guard standing over the women recognised me.

  "Zapper's boy," he sneered; and his hand moved to his belt. The bedcovers stirred. I shot first the guard in bed, immediately turned my gun on the other guard. He died with his gun in his hand. Malamud had shot one of those at the table. Both our guns were trained on the fourth guard, who slowly raised his hands and stood. His gun lay in its holster on the table.

  Dag and Ronan came running into the cabin. They both took in the scene.

  “You shot him in bed," Dag breathlessly accused me.

  “Take the covers off him," I told Dag.

  Dag strode the length of the cabin, flipped the smouldering covers off the body. The guard had a gun in each hand.

  "He had an obsession about guns," I told Dag. Ronan shouted at the two women. They started out of their shock, quickly recovered their tunics and, pulling them over their heads, they ran past us out of the cabin.

  Dag, head swivelling, was looking with fascinated disgust from one dead guard to the other. I took his reaction as a personal reproach.

  "Insects," I harshly told him.

  “What are you going to do with me?" the fourth guard fearfully asked.

  "Leave you here," Malamud curtly told him.

  "No,” the guard cried, "No. Not on my own. Please," he lowered his arms beseechingly. Ronan shot him in the face.

  We all three looked appalled from the fallen body to Ronan. Not having known what the guard had been saying, Ronan had obviously thought that the guard had been reaching for the gun on the table. And maybe he had. But still we glanced shamefully to one another. There was nothing, nothing more to be said. The killing was over.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  We show off the benevolent powers of Space; and I make a little mischief.

  On our return to the ship, our spacesuits bundled under our arms, Ronan stopped by the body of the dead slave. Kneeling he lifted the slave’s head to identify him, then he spoke a few words to Dag. Dag questioned him. Even in that thin air the anger in Ronan's answer was apparent.

  As we walked on I asked Dag what Ronan had said.

  “The man was already ill when they were taken captive. Because he was ill he couldn’t work hard. Because he didn't work hard the guards punished him. The more he was punished the weaker he became. His son was killed in the mine. He ran away.”

  "Ask him how many died altogether." We were now almost back at the ship. Dag didn’t understand Ronan's answer. Ronan showed him by a count on his fingers. Sixteen had died.

  The slaves were gathered at the bottom of the ramp. Dag told them to go up into the ship. Many of them were having difficulty breathing. They didn’t move. Ronan spoke with them, then with Dag.

  "They are afraid,” Dag told me, "that there are others aboard the ship. That this is a trick. That we are going to take them to another mine." Their suspicions saddened Dag.

  “Balant!" I shouted, pointed up the ramp. An old man’s eyes rolled and he slumped to the ground.

  "Balant!" I shouted again. Still they did not move.

  "Give them our guns. Switched off," I told Dag and Malamud. Laying down our spacesuits we each found a young man, handed them our guns. Dag and Ronan then led the three young men up the ramp, disappeared with them into the ship.

  One of the women from the cabin fell to the ground in a faint. I too was beginning to feel woozy. A child began gasping in panic. Malamud crossed to the woman, opened the air valve from his spacesuit near her face. The woman revived, saw what she thought was a mask and screamed. Two of the men stepped threateningly towards Malamud.

  Their attention was distracted momentarily by an old woman collapsing onto her face. Then Ronan appeared at the top of the ramp and called to his people. They began shuffling up the ramp. I told Malamud to take some air from his suit. Watched by the two men, who had started forward to protect the woman, we both inhaled deeply. Then, giving our suits to the two men, Malamud picked up the old man, I lifted the old woman, and we carried them up the ramp, through the airlock doors and laid them in the corridor. The airlock doors nonplussed the two men with our suits. I returned, took the suits from them, and Malamud led them into the ship.

  Not knowing what else to do with the suits, I dropped them by the ramp, and I too passed through the airlock. Malamud and the two men were leant side by side against the corridor wall filling their lungs with oxygen-rich air. The two old people were starting to come around.

  "Take them to the canteen,” I told Malamud. "I doubt that they were fed much back there."

  Leaving him making signs to the two men, I squeezed through the crush of slaves in the corridor. One of the young men stopped me, handed me back my gun. Further up the corridor I found Dag, with a first aid kit, treating some of the wounded. From what I glimpsed of the injuries, most of them appeared to be burns from the prodding sticks.


  "I'm going to take off," I told Dag, "Malamud’s taken some to the canteen. Ronan," I said, seeing him further up the corridor, “come with me."

  As Ronan did not understand my words, I took him by the wrist and, with a jerk of my head signified that he was to follow me. He did not respond to my smile. Nevertheless he accompanied me to the command room.

  Taking up a voice box I had left in readiness by the seat, I sat down and clipped it around my neck. For the moment I left it on receive only. Ronan walked around the consoles, studied the screens, the illuminated digits and displays.

  "Ronan," I said. He turned to me. I pointed directly overhead. To this man I wanted to show off the benign powers of space.

  “Command,” I said. "Close ramp." The console's oral confirmation had Ronan leaping away from the consoles to the centre of the room.

  “Manual," I said, and started the engines.

  When the round red hills of Onam began to fall away below us, Ronan stumbled to the closest console and tightly held onto it: an instinctive reaction in one used to planetary gravity. However, as we rose higher and higher, he realised that his clutching onto something wasn't necessary and, releasing his hold, he looked around at the stars. He said something. I gestured him to silence. We had left Onam's atmosphere. I told the ship to steer a course for Balant. Ronan watched the stars move as we turned to our new heading. Onam had shrunk to a crimson ball. I pointed ahead,

  "Balant.” I held up 5 fingers, "Five days."

  I was doublechecking our course, when Dag entered. He spoke to Ronan. Ronan hushed him.

  “Tell him it's alright now," I told Dag. No sooner had Dag told him than Ronan assailed him with questions. Dag, laughing, held up his hand, turned to me,

  "I've told him that, as soon as your voice box has heard enough of the language, you will answer all his questions. Now, can I have your guns? We no longer have any need of them."

  "Certainly," I unbuckled my belt and handed it to him. Our smiles at one another acknowledged a return to our old equality. Ronan, after a little consideration, passed his gun over to Dag.