Well, it could have been worse. I moved on to talk with children. I did not consider myself a child anymore, and certainly it had been a man's duty I did with Helse, but my talent related well to the young folk. I tried to cheer them, for they had the least resources to comprehend or deal with the calamity that had befallen us all. We set up games in the Commons, even organizing a soccer match, using a tightly wrapped bundle of paper refuse for the ball. It really wasn't much, in this confined and curvaceous space and with the trace gravity, but it did bring a few smiles to some faces and kept the kids occupied. I felt this was the most useful thing I could do, for now, spreading some of the balm Helse had provided me, as it were.
Helse joined me in the afternoon. She still looked just like another boy, but now I fancied I could perceive feminine contours and mannerisms in her, hidden from other eyes. I still had not seen her body clearly in its natural state, and now I wanted to, knowing the rapture it offered me. "I have been talking with your sisters," she said with a wry smile.
"I don't like keeping secrets from Spirit," I said, knowing my little sister had wasted no time on her fact-finding mission.
"She said you said you love me, and had great joy last night."
"It's true," I admitted. "She asked me and I told her. I wouldn't lie to my little sister. I didn't think you would mind. Spirit's curious about everything, but she never betrays a confidence."
"Then you don't mind if I tell her—" She shrugged. "—Anything?"
"No, of course I don't mind! I sent her to you. I don't want her to be afraid."
She shook her head. "You are remarkably open."
I frowned. "No, I'm not open with everyone. Spirit is special. We don't deceive each other. We fight sometimes, but we always understand. If she had a similar experience, she would tell me. Now that she's seen her sister raped, she needs to understand that it doesn't have to be that way."
"Yes, of course. I was surprised, that's all. Men usually talk about such things to other men, not to their sisters."
"Spirit is different," I repeated firmly.
"Not Faith?"
"Faith is more like an ordinary sister."
"She braced me," Helse said. "I had to tell her my secret."
"I don't see why," I said, annoyed. "I try to protect Faith, but I don't share secrets with her."
"She really cares for you, Hope. She appreciates what you've done for her. The siblings are much closer in your family than they were in mine; I envy you that. Faith saw the change in you today, and she worried."
"But I didn't talk with her today!"
"Still, she noticed. She's not totally out of it, Hope; she's recovering. Your support really helped her."
"Oh." I was pleased. "She must have figured it would take more than a talking-to to put me back on track."
"Yes. She guessed there was a liaison. And she thought I was male."
I felt myself abruptly blushing. "She thought—?"
"She hoped it wasn't so. But she feared for your orientation, right now, under this terrible stress. So I had to tell her."
"I guess you did!" I agreed, still embarrassed. "I'd better talk to her."
"No need. She was relieved. I think she thought she could be responsible for you turning away from the opposite sex, because of the rape."
"She was concerned for my reaction to what happened to her?" I asked, amazed. "Rather than for her own horror?"
"She's got that basic Hubris spirit of unity. It's a precious quality. She would do anything to spare the others in her family the humiliation she suffered."
"I guess I didn't give her enough credit," I said ruefully. "She, worried about me!"
"I was concerned too, maybe in a slightly different way. That's why I acted."
"You sure did!" I agreed. "In one hour you changed my life forever."
"I think Faith and I are going to be friends."
"Yes, I think so." I was both embarrassed and gratified: embarrassed for the way I had evidently seemed to those who were close to me, and gratified for the way they had tried to help.
After that I talked with Faith myself, explaining what Helse had done for me. "I'm not ashamed to be a man," I told her. "I don't for a moment condone what happened to you, but—"
"It's all right, Hope," she said. She looked better now; she had washed herself and brushed out her hair. She was indeed recovering, having more inner strength than I had credited. "We have all had a terrible education in the past few days. I'm glad you found her. I should have known better than to worry."
"How is Mother?" I asked cautiously. I was glad to see Faith regaining her equilibrium, but I wasn't certain how far it went.
"Hope, we have to take care of her! I thought I was badly off, until—it's so much worse for her!"
"What can we do for her?" I asked, surprised by my sister's animation. Faith had always been relatively sedate and retiring; Spirit was the wild one in our family, and I was in between. Now Faith was turning more decisive. Could her awful experience have changed her outlook?
"Helse told me a pirate tried to rape Mother, and you fought him off."
"More or less," I agreed. "Spirit smashed the pacifier box, so the rest of us could fight. I wasn't very effective. Spirit really saved us all."
"I don't want—that—to happen to Charity Hubris," Faith said firmly. "She's our mother, Hope! So if the pirates come again, and we can't stop them—" She broke off, evidently not finding it easy to speak her thought.
"We'll stop them somehow!" I said with a certain bravado.
"If they have that awful pacifier box, or something—" She took a breath and swallowed. "If it comes to that, Hope, I want you to send them my way, not Mother's way."
I stared at her, horrified. "Faith! You know what they do!"
She smiled wanly. "I think I know as well as any woman can. But what have I to lose, now? Hope, we can't let our mother be defiled."
"I hate even to think of this!" I exclaimed. "We should kill every pirate who comes into this bubble!"
"Yes. We should. But if we can't—then we must handle them another way. Promise me you will do it, if it needs to be done."
I resisted, but she kept at me, somewhat the way Helse had—and in the end I had to yield and give my promise. There is something about the way a woman can importune a man, even if she is his sister. But I felt unclean.
Perhaps it was prophetic, for within an hour after that the pirates did come again. Not the same ones—but already the term "pirate" was generic.
We did not know at first that they were pirates. Their ship was in good repair and bore the emblem of the Mars Merchant Marine. That did not signify much, because for reasons of interplanetary commerce many non-Martian vessels elected to register with Mars. Martian taxes were less than those of Jupiter, Uranus, or Earth, and fuel was cheap there, as the so-called Red Planet had much of the fuel of the Solar System. But mainly, as I understood it from my school studies, Mars had extremely lax laws governing the wages and treatment of spacemen. The large trading companies could operate more profitably by economizing on safety measures and payrolls and retirement benefits, so they enlisted with the planet that permitted this. The maritime powers of Jupiter professed to deplore such shoddy mechanisms—yet quite a number of their ships operated under the emblem of Mars. So a Martian trader ship could be anything. Except, we naïvely supposed, a pirate.
They locked onto us and opened the air lock. There was a pause before the inner door opened, and we knew they had discovered the dead and spoiling pirates. But soon the inner panel slid aside, and a man in a white uniform stood before us.
We had an innocent-seeming group of women near the lock to greet the intruders. Hidden around the curve of the Commons we had armed women, ready to fight viciously if that proved to be necessary. Normally women were not warriors, but the brutal experience of rape and murder had forged a new temperament in many. Before we allowed more of the same, we would fight and kill. We all understood that. Twice we had ov
ercome intruders, and twice had our situation reversed—and twice suffered grievously. Experience is a cruel but effective teacher.
Spirit, garbed as a boy, was one of the display children. They were innocently playing—but she was armed with her finger-whip, and the others had small knives. If the others turned out to be pirates, she and the children were supposed to scream in simulated or genuine panic and flee, clearing the way for our fighting forces. If anything resembling a pacifier box made an appearance, Spirit would go for it. But if the children were caught, they would fight. We had to give the outsiders a chance to prove they were legitimate, just in case they were, for we were in desperate need of food and help. We dared not alienate legitimate visitors.
"You folk must have had a bad time," the Martian officer said in Spanish, looking about as his men followed him through the air lock. All were clean-cut and wore side-arms, not swords. "We discovered quite a mess in your air lock. It's all right now; we dumped the stuff in space and fumigated the lock."
My mother was in the "innocent" group of women. She had roused herself from her grief to participate in this, for she knew she was only one of many who had been abruptly widowed, and that someone had to carry on. Even as we children had to protect her, she tried to protect us. That was part of what it meant to be a family; I was coming to appreciate the full significance of it in this adversity. Major Hubris had been lost, but his family carried on, as if his strength had been bequeathed to each of the survivors. "We were raided by pirates," she said. "All our men were killed."
"Well, that's over now," the officer said. "We shall carry you on in to Jupiter, where you will be granted refugee status. Collect your things; we're on a schedule and haven't much time. Don't bother with extra clothing; we'll issue you uniforms from our stores."
Slowly I relaxed. This was almost too good to be true! If they towed us the rest of the way in to Jupiter, our hunger and fear was over!
I turned to meet Helse's eyes. The two of us had been relegated to the center chamber of the bubble, the doughnut hole. We were deemed too old to be innocent children and too young to fight. But we would fight, if it came to that, to protect the precious remaining food stores. As it was, we were out of the action but could see everything plainly.
Helse did not seem to share my relief. Her eyes were squinting, her mouth grim. That renovated my alarm; did she know something I didn't?
Uncertain, the women in the Commons below looked at each other. "Leave the bubble?" my mother asked, and I realized the officer had not actually spoken of towing, but of carrying.
"Obviously you can't remain here," the officer said reasonably. "Drifting in space, your supplies diminishing, vulnerable to the vagaries of fate. You are fortunate we spotted you. Fetch your valuables; you don't want to be classed as paupers when you arrive."
The women seemed almost reluctant to believe their good fortune. Slowly they dispersed while the merchantmen smiled at the children. One man produced a box of bright candy balls and proffered it. He was promptly the center of juvenile attention, as the youngest flocked to accept the goodies. We had not seen candy since leaving Callisto! Even Spirit, suspicious at first, in due course sidled close to the friendly man and accepted a treat.
My mouth watered. I was not yet so old that candy didn't appeal. "Look what we're missing!" I muttered.
"Never accept candy from a stranger," Helse said grimly. I thought at first she was joking, then was doubtful.
The smallest child abruptly sat down. She had been greedily consuming the candy. She did not seem sick, but she did not get up.
Another child joined her, then a third. Soon all of them were sprawled on the deck. Spirit was one of the last to go, and I could see she was fighting it, but her knees buckled and betrayed her.
Señora Ortega marched up. "What is the matter?" she demanded, alarmed.
The officer faced her. "The candy is drugged. But don't worry; we have the antidote. The children will not die if it is administered within an hour."
"Drugged!" Señora Ortega gazed on him with wild surmise. "Then you are—"
"Merely men who labor hard on short wages, and who have been too long in space," the officer said. "You are the leader here? Have your women deposit their valuables with us." His eyes traveled across the others, who were now frozen in horror. They had actually fetched their most precious things at the behest of this man! "We are not bad fellows, if you treat us right. We are not interested in killing anyone, or even hurting anyone. We believe in honest quid-pro-quo. Any woman who desires a unit of antidote may purchase it from one of us."
My mother was one of the first to understand. "My child is among those drugged. How may I purchase her reprieve?"
"You have money?" the officer inquired. "Gold? Gems?"
"None," my mother replied.
"Then you must earn it." The officer glanced meaningfully at his men.
After a pause, a burly older crewman stepped forward and gazed at her. For a moment I saw her through his eyes: a woman in her forties, no young thing but still a fairly handsome figure of her sex. The kind a middle-aged man would find comfortable. I began, inwardly, to curse the condition of masculinity, then felt Helse move slightly beside me and remembered her lesson. The evil was not the use, but the abuse!
"I'll give you my little vial of fluid, woman," the crewman said. He held a small bottle, but his entendre was obvious. These were more sophisticated rapists; they compelled the women's cooperation without overt violence. But for all its nonviolence, it remained rape. My muscles clenched.
"Don't do it!" Señora Ortega cried to my mother. "They're bluffing."
The officer shrugged, glancing at the collapsed children. "We are not killers, certainly; that decision is yours. We can only remain with you for an hour—after which time it will hardly matter. Any woman who prefers to take a chance with her child is free to do so. As I said, we do not wish to coerce anyone."
The hypocrite! I started to move, but Helse put her hand on my shoulder and though her touch was light, it held me back. Helse had known better than I about the candy; her judgment probably remained better. I sank back, my teeth clenched.
My mother looked at Spirit, who was now unconscious. She wavered, afraid to gamble with her child's life. Probably the men were bluffing and had only put knockout medicine in the candy. They seemed more like unscrupulous opportunists than hardened killers. Surely men who spent much time in space did get hungry for women, though why they didn't bring women along with them in their ship was a mystery. But they were also pirates, and we knew how careless of life pirates could be. If they were not bluffing—I felt the same stress my mother did. That was Spirit, my little sister! If I let her die when any action of mine could save her, how could I even endure myself?
I tried to use my talent to determine the intentions of the men, but I simply had not interacted with them enough to judge. I could not tell to what extent they were bluffing.
"I will buy her life," my mother decided.
The crewman smiled. I started climbing down into the Commons, going through the hole in the netting and using one of the guy ropes that held the netting in place so that I would not sail down sidewise and attract unwanted attention.
"No!" Helse hissed. "Don't do it, Hope! You can do nothing except make it worse!"
I paused, knowing she was right. Yet how could I remain idle while my mother prostituted herself to save my little sister?
While I debated this, hanging on to the guy rope, my other sister, Faith, approached me. She had put on makeup and arranged her luxuriant hair, and looked like a goddess. She wore a rather tight skirt and blouse. The half rations seemed not to have diminished her at all; probably she accepted them as just another diet. "I can't let this happen," she said.
A new horror gripped me. "Faith, stay out of it!"
She met my gaze. "You understand, Hope."
The terrible thing was that I did understand. Faith felt she had nothing to lose; now she could redeem her
lost honor in some measure by saving her mother and sister from this awful dilemma.
"You promised, Hope," she reminded me.
I could not say her nay, though I hated every aspect of this. Slowly, unwillingly, I nodded.
Faith made a tiny quirk of a smile. I had, in my fashion, given permission, and this was a thing she required. I had implicated myself in the decision, and would have to defend it. I was sending her in to be raped—again.
Faith took a breath and walked up to the men. She was slender and full and lovely and young, standing out like a beacon amidst gloom, and in a moment all their eyes were locked on her. It was obvious that none of these men would choose any older woman if he had a chance at this young one. I could appreciate the feeling myself, shamed as I was by the thought; I would choose a girl like Faith instead of a woman like my mother. God! What abominations infested my thoughts!
"How many children can I buy?" Faith asked them softly.
"Faith!" my mother exclaimed, shocked.
"Better me than you, Mother," Faith replied. "I am already lost; you must care for the family." And Charity Hubris could not deny her, any more than I could.
Faith turned back to the men, breathing deeply—and when she did that, she was spectacular. "How many?"
"All of them," the officer said, impressed. "Given time." His gaze flicked to a lieutenant beside him. "See to the valuables."
"No," Faith said. "You shall not rob us also."
"No?" The officer seemed amused.
"Take me—on your ship. Nothing else."
"Faith!" my mother repeated.
The officer glanced again at the other men, whose mouths were virtually drooling. Yet again I could appreciate their thoughts, though I resented my very ability to do so. To have a creature like this with them all the time, no one-hour stand—
"You drive an interesting bargain, young woman."
Faith half turned, and her body accented itself. Somewhere along the way she had learned a lot about sex appeal! "What pittance does anyone here have, compared to what I offer?"
Anthony, Piers - Tyrant 1 - Refugee Page 16