A Larger Universe

by James L Gillaspy

"And the lords?" asked Tommy, taking another step back.

  "The lords won't care as long as you're doing your work with the priest," said the man in the middle.

  They were about three arm lengths away.

  "Who told you that?" asked Tommy.

  The man's expression indicated he had revealed more than he should. "That don't matter!" the man said.

  Tommy cocked his head to one side. "What if I don't want to move to the priest's deck?" Why did I say that? Of course I want to quit shoveling shit, don't I?

  "Then we'll have to convince you!" the man in the middle shouted as he charged toward Tommy.

  Tommy turned and launched his body, arms out and shoulder down, toward the scrawny man to his left, striking him just below the rib cage. The man collapsed, wheezing, across Tommy's back, where Tommy held him as he whirled back toward his other attackers. His jump to the side had spoiled their attack, leaving them well away from his new position.

  "We won't fall for that again, feral," said the gap-toothed man. He pulled a thick stick from underneath his tunic. The animal handler produced a short knife. They charged again, side by side, directly at him.

  Tommy sidestepped, then grabbed the waistband of the man across his back and spun, throwing the squealing man into the other two attackers. Well, it works with more than feed sacks! All three went down in a heap with the man he had thrown on top. Tommy added his weight to the pile, pinning them down.

  He disarmed them and fended off several blows. "Are you sure you want to continue this?" he asked.

  The three heaved up until Tommy cuffed each of them with the back of his work-hardened hand, then placed his knee into the top man's back and pressed down. This time the man's squeal was pure pain.

  "Do you want more of that?" Tommy asked.

  "No!" the man screamed.

  "Did you do this on your own?" Tommy asked, pressing down again.

  "No! No! The first Jack told us to do it," the man sobbed.

  "Shut up, you idiot!" said one of the men on the bottom.

  Tommy stood up and stepped back. He watched warily as the three got to their feet and whispered to each other.

  "If Jack wants you do to this, why isn't he here to help you?" Tommy asked.

  Their answer was another assault. This one Tommy met with his own rush, straight ahead. He cracked the man in the middle across the jaw with his right elbow and shoved him aside, then spun in place, grabbed the shirtsleeves of the two outside men, and pulled. The sound of their heads striking each other echoed from the barn wall.

  Tommy looked down at the unconscious men on the ground. What have I done?

  He turned toward a sound from behind. The first Jack stood there, his neck red around the top of his tunic, his brown eyes almost hidden by black pupils. When he spoke, he echoed Tommy's thoughts, "What have you done?"

  Tommy shook his head. "What have I done? What have you done? You sent them after me. I just defended myself."

  Jack looked up at Tommy looming over him, then down again at the three men lying on the ground. He raised his hands as if trying to fend off an impending attack.

  "Why did you send them to do this?" Tommy asked. "Were you hoping they would kill me? You know I can't leave here until the lords tell me to."

  Jack crossed his arms tightly in front of his narrow body. He looked again at the three unconscious bodies on the ground, then back at Tommy. "This isn't over,” Jack said. He turned and stalked toward the central column.

  I suppose it's up to me to take care of these three. He knelt and felt each man's pulse. A bucket of water from the horse trough brought them to sputtering consciousness.

  "Jack deserted you," Tommy said. "If you don't have any work to do here, you might want to follow him. He's headed toward the stairs."

  # # #

  On his next walk with Forset, Tommy said, "I once asked someone why you are so small. He said the lords wanted it that way. Was he right?"

  They strolled that day on the horse trail Tommy and Jack had followed that first day on the ship.

  "Do you have some reason for asking that question? Forset asked.

  "I had a confrontation with some farmers yesterday." Tommy said.

  "Were you injured?"

  "My size made a lot of difference," Tommy said. "They were injured. I was not."

  Forset made a show of looking at Tommy's body, as if he were seeing it for the first time. "I suppose so," he said. "We are inbred compared with you wild humans." He paused. "Perhaps 'bred' would be a better word."

  "What do you mean?" Tommy asked.

  Forset walked quietly for a while before answering. "Our ancestors were small when they were taken. Their children were larger, and their grandchildren larger still. The lords said we grew because we ate better and more regularly. In the third generation, the lords told us who could marry whom, who could have children, and who could not.

  "That led to the first and only revolt against the lords on this ship. We might be serfs, that we understood, but God had granted us the right to have children." He used the English word for God; Tommy couldn't remember having been told the lords' word.

  "Many humans died when the lords suppressed the revolt. The lords fought for themselves, the only time they have, so far as I know. After that, we married as the lords willed. We became smaller, both farmer and artisan. Smaller and different. When the physical differences between farmer and artisan were great enough, the lords separated us, as we are now."

  "Which are you?"

  "I thought that would be obvious. I am a farmer. All of the priests are farmers, except for our education. We are taken into the priesthood at an early age and apprenticed to an older priest to learn the lords' language. The lords think we have a calming effect on the crew. They see no harm in the worship we lead, even though they long ago stopped us from preaching at the service." He looked at Tommy. "They consider our hopes for a savior to be unfounded and more than a little amusing."

  # # #

  After many rest days, Tommy arrived for his usual lesson to find a small cake and drinks set up on Forset's desk.

  "What is this about?" Tommy asked in the lords' language.

  "I could no longer give Lord Ull excuses for you to continue in my class," Forset replied in English. "I've been teaching you for almost two years. You’ll learn more, but you must do so on your own. Your new assignment begins next week, after the rest day."

  For the rest day, Forset asked Tommy to be at his cabin before services. When he arrived, Tommy found Forset talking with his assistant, who abruptly bowed to Forset and brushed past Tommy in the doorway.

  "I've asked the fourth Forset to perform my service for the farmers. It's time for you to meet the artisans, and rest day services provide the means. I've arranged to take the place of their regular priest."

  As they walked to the stairwell, Tommy asked, "Why does the fourth Forset dislike me?"

  "I had no idea he did."

  "Whenever I talk to him, he ignores me. I hoped I could talk to him in the lords' language for practice, but he looks through me as if I am invisible."

  "Perhaps the fourth Forset resents the time you spend with me," Forset said. "Until you came, I was his teacher as he was my assistant. Now, I have time only for you, though that will soon change."

  Forset led Tommy down several decks to another large room with a labyrinth painted on the floor. "You wait here and join the service. I need a few minutes alone to prepare."

  The artisans who filed in were, if anything, thinner than the farmers, making the large size of their heads even more noticeable. They were taller, too, though the tallest couldn't have been more than five feet five inches. Instead of the drab shirts tucked into equally drab trousers above sturdy boots of the farmers, the artisans wore colorful, short-sleeve tunics to mid thigh over equally colorful, but often clashing, tight-fitting pants and soft slippers. Also unlike the farmers, who entered the labyrinth room quietly, the artisans entered chattering among themselves.<
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  Tommy had placed his back to the corner of the room closest to the door, so most of the worshipers didn't notice him. Forset's entry into the room cut off the scrutiny of those who had seen him and brought the room to order. Forset said nothing as he entered, stepping into the room as he had for each service in the farmers' church, with his hood over his head, and his hands clasped in front. The service that followed was identical with those Tommy had participated in previously. Tommy joined the chanting line when his turn came, his farmer clothing contrasting with the colorful clothes of those near him. The lines of people flickered in the corners of his eyes as the varied hues passed by, step by slowly moving step.

  The last "We must have faith" in the closing chant ended, and the chattering started again among the congregation. Every person had passed him in the labyrinth, some many times. Now, rather than leave, they all turned toward him. He heard Forset calling him from the entrance. "Tommy, go to the center of the labyrinth."

  "This is Tommy. He's the one taken from Earth. The lords commanded me to bring him to you, so he might begin the task they've set for him. I was also told one of you will be overseeing and instructing him in his work, but not who that might be."

  A man dressed in pale shades of red and blue, but, to Tommy, otherwise indistinguishable from the other men, stepped forward from the congregation.

  "I'll be supervising his work, priest. On work days, not on rest days."

  Forset didn't seem embarrassed. "Since the lords didn't tell me whom to bring him to, this seemed the most efficient way to find you. I've always been led to believe efficiency is important to artisans. The time we take today will be minimal. What is your name?"

  "Valin." He turned to Tommy. "Meet me here tomorrow after the midday meal. I'll take you to your workplace and explain what you must do."

  On the way to the priest's cabin, Tommy asked, "Do I continue to live in my present barracks and work mornings with the farmers?"

  "Until someone tells you otherwise. My part in this is finished. Can you find your way back to the artisans' labyrinth?"

  "Yes, of course. The pattern on your level is repeated on that deck."

  # # #

  After the fights, the first Jack had given up the direct approach and began harassing Tommy with petty errands and changes to Tommy's routine. Most of the errands involved interfering with Tommy's meals. Jack had apparently seen how much Tommy ate--he often went back for seconds and thirds--and the errands often made Tommy miss meals altogether. Jack also decided that Tommy didn't need help unloading the feed wagon and assigned Mark to other duties.

  After a while, Tommy secretly agreed with that decision. Mark just slowed him down. The routine became almost like walking the labyrinth. His mind drifted. Start at one end of the wagon. Bend at the knees. Grab a bag. Lift the bag to his chest. Stand up. Turn. Walk to the end of the wagon. Throw the bag into the wheelbarrow. Turn. Walk back to the load. Do it all again. When he had filled the wheelbarrow, walk it into the barn, grab a bag, lift, throw it on the pile, do it again until he had emptied the wheelbarrow. Return to the wagon. Begin again. Until he finished, his body worked while his mind thought about something else.

  The morning after meeting Valin, Tommy's thoughts circled his new job. What could it be? Then, he thought about his parents and home, and he felt a twinge of guilt. Why should I care about anything that won't get me home? Bend, grab, lift, turn. Maybe it will help get me home, somehow. That led to thinking of the artisans and his new job. Bend, grab, lift, turn.

  A shrill shriek followed by a loud thump and crack jerked him from his trance. He turned to see the far end of the stable slump to the ground. A moment later, a giant ostrich-like bird wiggled from a hole under the now-slanting roof and loped toward the farmers' fields.

  Three of the birds had arrived on the ship a few weeks before. Tommy's contacts with them had been for his usual task: cleaning the bottom of the stalls. The birds were aggressive and difficult to handle, so the first Jack had the horse stalls rebuilt to be more confining. The narrow stalls allowed the handlers to get close, but moving a bird required three people: one at the end of ropes on each side of the bird, to keep it under control, and one on the lead rope. Everyone tried to stay out of range of the bird's six-foot long legs, which had evolved for running and defense.

  Tommy jumped off of the feed wagon and ran into the stable toward the shouting. He found the second Jack already there, pulling at a large timber that had fallen into the last stall. "Get some help. The fourth Jules is trapped under this rafter. The broken end is pressed onto his chest."

  The fourth Jules, Tommy thought. One of the boys who have been tormenting me.

  More farmers crowded next to Tommy. "Some of you get in here and help me with this!" the second Jack yelled.

  The rafter extending down into the narrow space left barely enough room for two to stand without stepping on Jules. One of the other men pushed in, and, with Jack, tried to lift the beam.

  When the beam didn't move, Tommy reached into the stall and pulled the second man out. "Let me try."

  Tommy was slightly taller than the second Jack, but much wider in the shoulders and bigger in the chest. A few weeks before, Tommy had arrived early for work to find the second Jack standing in the feed wagon. Tommy had ducked behind the edge of the barn and watched as the second Jack tried and failed to lift a feed sack over his head, as he had seen Tommy do. Now, Jack shrugged and turned to the beam. "On three, lift. One, two, three." The rafter came off of Jules' chest, and Jules sucked in a huge breath.

  "Quick. Get him out." Jack grunted.

  With Jules out of immediate danger, the men placed him on a stretcher made of feed sacks and poles and carried him toward the central column elevators.

  Tommy collapsed on the floor. That lift had drained him. "Where are they taking Jules?"

  "Some of the artisans are doctors, such as we have. They will do what they can." Jack's gaze took in those standing in the stable. "That bird will be hard to catch." He picked three of the stable hands. "Chase the bird down. Take horses. Everyone else, back to work."

  For the first time since he had been introduced, the meal room became silent when Tommy entered. He usually sat alone or with Mark, but that night, the other four of the five boys who had once tormented him sat down at his table. "What do you want?" he asked.

  "The second Jack told us what you did," one of them said.

  "And?" Tommy asked.

  "We want to know why," the spokesman said.

  "It seemed like the right thing to do. I could help, so I did."

  "Jules wouldn't have helped you."

  "Is that supposed to matter to me?"

  The first Jack spoke loudly from the entrance of the room. "I've checked on Jules. He has some bad bruises but nothing broken. The bird's been caught."

  "How did it happen?" a voice called.

  "As near as I can tell, the damn fool went into the stall alone. Jules did something the bird didn't like, and the bird kicked out the corner of his stall. When the bird did that, the support for the rafter was knocked out. Whatever Jules was doing, he paid for it. Would’ve been worse if the bird had kicked Jules instead of the support. We caught the bird, though. It's fine."

  Tommy's celebrity preceded him to his meeting with Valin. The corridor outside the labyrinth room was swirling with the colorful clothes of artisans.

  "We don't get much excitement here. Your rescue of the other farmer was the main topic in the meal room," Valin said.

  "I'm not a farmer."

  "You work in their stable don't you?"

  "Yes, but do I look like a farmer?"

  "No, but you don't look like someone who could help me either, whatever the lords think."

  "If I can't, will they send me home?"

  Valin laughed. "You've got a funny mouth to go with that funny body. You'll go home when the lords are done with us, and that's never.

  "This crowd will have their fill of looking at you soon, and w
e'll be able to get out of here."

  # # #

  Valin worked in a room more than big enough for ten ordinary-appearing desks. Nine of the desks formed the shape of a horseshoe with one end open. The tenth desk was against another wall. Other than the entrance, the room had two doors, one on each side of the horseshoe and next to a number of partially filled bookcases. The door on the left had a picture and the lords' word for book. The door on the right had a picture of a cog and the lords' word for machinery. Eight men sat around the horseshoe, leaving the desk at the top empty.

  "That's your desk against the wall. Now, we'll look at what you'll be doing," Valin said as he led the way through the door with the picture of a book.

  The room inside would have looked like the computer section of a large bookstore if there had been more than one copy of each title. Tommy walked from shelf to shelf, reading the bindings. He saw books on computer hardware, computer operating systems, computer languages, web development, databases, programming algorithms, logic, and any number of topics Tommy had never heard of, except that, when he looked inside, each one related to computers. The shelves contained hundreds of books. He picked a book with CICS in the title. What's that? And another, thin, book about the proper way to crimp the ends of computer cables. And another about UML. Except for the book about crimping the ends of cables, every book he took contained at least two hundred pages. Some of them were over 600 pages.

  Tommy turned from the shelves. "You expect me to translate all of these to the lords' language? If I worked for two hundred years, I wouldn't be able to do that."

  Valin

  The strange Earthling made Valin apprehensive. He looked nothing at all like the small boy Valin had seen in the transmission from Earth.

  Valin had worked many years to reach his position as a senior master, and now his position and his life were at the mercy of a lord's whims and the unproven abilities of this alleged child. The priest, Forset, with his impractical station, may not have known of Valin, but the reverse had not been true. For many months he had been in contact with the first Jack concerning Tommy. He also found an interested helper in the fourth Forset, who was eager to report Tommy's progress in learning the lords' language.