"So the Terrans are... savages? Like wild animals?"
She looked at me pointedly. "That's a pretty odd comment for a Feral to make, don't you think?"
"I... I'm sorry. I just –" I looked down. I didn't know what to say. I'd made her angry, just as I thought she was beginning to like me.
Her hand cupped my chin, pulling my face gently into a line of sight with hers. "It's okay. Don't let me intimidate you, kid. I have a habit of pointing out human failings, and sometimes I'm not too nice about it."
Then I asked her, "How do you know so much?"
She laughed. "I've lived a long, long time, Aer'La."
"Will I ever know as much as you?"
"You could," she nodded. "If you pay attention to... everything. Start by reading whenever you have the chance. I can recommend some primers on the history of the Inner Worlds –"
"Um, I... can't read," I said, ashamed.
She gasped quietly. "Of course you can't! Oh, I'm an old fool!"
"You? I'm the one who can't read."
She put her arm around me. It was a good feeling. "Only because those bastards who raised you neglected you. You have nothing to be ashamed of. I'm the one who should know better than to make my patient uncomfortable. How would it be if I taught you to read?"
I almost stopped breathing. I thought again of Druberj, and those wonderful stories we'd lost ourselves in. How even being a slave hadn't been so bad, when I'd had Druberj and his books.
"Would you do that?" I asked.
"If only to make up for ruining your musical tastes by offering you a copy of that trashy holo. Which I will buy you a copy of. You've had few enough pleasures in life." She saw I was still hopelessly confused. She said gently, "And I'll be honored to teach you to read, Aer'La."
"What about the Captain?"
"I'm pretty sure he knows how to read."
"No, I mean –"
"I know what you meant," she said sadly. "You come from a world where those in power try to keep their subjects ignorant, so they're easier to control. I wish I could say that's very different from the rest of the universe, but it's not. Still, you are allowed to learn to read here, whether Captain Miles likes it or not. If he gives you any trouble, you just tell me. I'll handle him."
I thought she probably would do just that.
"Does this mean... I get to stay?" I asked.
"Why not? Until you prove otherwise, you're a fourteen year-old girl – not necessarily good, not necessarily bad. And you're willing to learn. I've met very few people who fit that description in my time. I'd be a fool to send you away, now wouldn't I?"
She extended her hand. "Welcome to hell, shipmate."
* * *
Aer'La's memories began to fade and intermingle with her dreams. Soon, she was sound asleep. Much as he would have enjoyed sharing her dreams with her, Cernaq untangled his mind from hers even as he untangled his body from hers. Quietly, and giving Aer'La a gentle command to go on sleeping, he got up from the bed.
He would not sleep tonight. He needed the time to document all that he'd seen. To prepare. When the Varthans arrived, he needed to be ready for them... whatever they tried.
Chapter Eight
Harl
It was during the following duty shift that a ship bearing Varthan registry was sighted, and maneuvered itself to a matching vector with Titan. After the small ship had docked, the Captain was escorted to Atal's cabin. Atal chose not to show his visitor to the promenade – that was for polite company. This person, in his opinion, was decidedly neither.
A tall man, dressed in expensive clothes, which he wore badly, and distinctive in appearance only in that he bore a nasty scar on his face, which raked through one eye, stalked arrogantly through the hatch and up to Atal's desk. Unlike Aer'La, his skin was a milky beige color, close in hue to Atal's own. The dominant race of Varthans all shared this white skin.
Atal was seated, reviewing reports on his holo display. He'd planned to be doing this when his visitor arrived, and, as he'd also planned, he continued to review them for a few moments after the visitor spoke.
"I'm Harl."
The Varthan's proximity made Atal very grateful that Inworlders like himself had the ability to deaden their olfactory senses. It meant he didn't have to smell Harl, or the less-well-dressed bodyguard who accompanied him. He felt for Metcalfe, though. The young midshipman had escorted them here, and had no such gifts. Atal could tell by his tight jaw that he was relying on military discipline to avoid showing his revulsion.
"You Captain?" the new arrival asked.
"Jan Atal," he replied, inclining his head.
"The Admiral sent me t'you."
"I see. Admiral Fournier?"
"Yeah. Practical man, that. You?"
"Am I practical? I suppose we'll find out."
"You know why I'm here."
"To claim a slave?"
Harl feigned distress at this question. "Slave? Certainly not, Captain! A Varthan national, who illegally entered your space. We're here to lawfully escort her home."
"I was told you were an investigator, come to determine the condition and value of stolen property."
Harl chuckled. "A misunderstanding, that. Forgive me saying so, Captain, but your people jump to conclusions about us Varthans. You hear one of us is wanted, you automatically cry 'slavery.' I ask you, is that fair?"
"You'll forgive our parochial bigotry."
"Well, of course... er... what?"
"I said I'd hate to judge you too quickly."
Harl grinned. "You're a gentleman, Captain. Now, if you'll just hand over the girl –"
"The girl who says she was, in fact, a slave? Sounds like the wrong party."
Harl's pretense of gentility, oafish though it was, left him. "That's a lie, Captain. Her kind is given to lies. Criminal types, all of them. That's why I need to remove her... for the protection of your crew."
"I'm not sure I can allow that," said Atal.
Harl grimaced. "You've been ordered to give her to me," he said coldly.
"I've been ordered to allow you to inspect her. I'm going to do that. You may start by meeting and questioning your... suspect – under adequate supervision, of course." Atal nodded to Metcalfe, who went to the promenade door and opened it. Doctors Mors, Pallas and Faulkner, followed by Aer'La, entered.
Atal had invited them to observe and look for weakness, as well as to detect the lies he knew would be told. He wasn't sure how this would play out, and he needed every advantage that two telepaths and the aged physician could provide. He realized that Aer'La would have preferred Cernaq be present, and Cernaq was certainly a capable telepath as well. Atal wanted to limit the contact between the Varthans and his young officers, however. They were too personally involved in this. He hadn't even really wanted Pallas here, but Mors had quietly insisted.
Aer'La's expression was guarded. Her gaze was cast at the floor, as it would have been years ago when she was a slave. When she looked up, and saw Harl, her eyes widened. Her head snapped quickly left and right, as she instinctively sought refuge.
Sabotaging Atal's intent to conduct orderly introductions, Harl advanced on her.
"Don't look to escape, girl. You're coming home." He started to reach for her. Metcalfe stepped in his way. Harl sized him up, snorting a laugh. "You'd best stay out of my way, boy. A slip of a thing like you isn't fit for combat against a white Varthan."
"Captain Harl," Atal barked, "you are a guest on my ship. I'll ask you to behave as such. My officers will be treated with respect, including those... under inquiry."
Aer'La moved around Metcalfe and drew close to Atal. The poor child was shaking. Atal had never thought he'd live to see the day. "He doesn't treat anyone with respect, Captain," she said, her voice deadly calm. "He's a slaver and a murderer."
The remark inflamed Harl. "Ye lyin' slut!" he spat. "I'll take ye apart –"
He advanced once again.
Atal was out of his chair and in front of the
Bos'n in a heartbeat. He could have let Metcalfe handle all the security. He'd trained the boy in several styles of hand-to-hand combat, after all, and he was proficient. He might, in fact, have been more technically able to defend himself than his Captain; but Atal had the advantage of a physically imposing height, compared to most people. He towered over Harl.
"And you'll take me apart as well, Captain?" Atal asked pleasantly. "I need to know now so that I can postpone my dinner plans while I'm reassembled."
Harl drew a half step back. "I'll not be insulted!"
"I'm not sure you were," Atal said.
He colored. "I'm not a slaver. I'm a private detective. And I've killed no one."
"You killed Druberj, you son of a bitch!" Aer'La shrieked. She started to come around Atal toward Harl, her fear washed away in a flood of lust for revenge.
Atal put his arm out and, gently, realizing he could conceivably lose said arm, clasped Aer'La's shoulder. Thankfully, she responded to his touch, and held her place.
"She lies!" said Harl. "She's got no authority to accuse me!"
Atal turned back to him, almost whispering. "Captain, this is more than a Confederate vessel. This is my ship, and we'll do things my way. If my Bos'n says you're a murderer, then I will proceed on the assumption that you are. Watch your step."
For the next few minutes, Harl proceeded to catalog the indignities he was capable of performing on Atal's person, his vessel and his crew. The Captain let him rant. He'd learned long ago that threats were seldom backed up by actions, that a wise man acted rather than threatened, and that the unsaid was far more frightening than the explicitly stated. Simply, he knew Harl was scared as hell of him, while he feared only what Harl might do to Aer'La.
By rights – by legal rights, in the eyes of those so devoid of judgment that they needed the law to tell them what was right and what was wrong – Harl could just walk out of here with Aer'La. The odds were he was going to do just that, despite Atal's delaying tactics.
When Atal was clearly unaffected by his tirade, Harl calmed himself. "I am a law-abiding man, and wouldn't want to be accused of bein' uncivil. I'll do as you ask, Captain. And I believe you will all come to see – sadly – that her accusations are simply clever lies. A criminal trying to evade capture. You are all good people. You're not used to dealing with the type of lowlife it is my job to pursue. It's easy for you to be taken in."
"You," he said to Aer'La, "sit down."
She turned to Atal. "Sir, do I have to go through with this game? We all know what he is... "
Mors nodded gently for her to sit. "Just be calm, child. Remember, lack of self-control doesn't lend to one's believability."
Aer'La never liked being told to calm down. Her reaction to such suggestions was frequently violent. She sat, nonetheless.
Harl began to pace in front of her chair, his hands behind his back. "I know that... morals in the Confederacy are harder than in Varthan Freespace. You allow less. You judge and condemn the baser acts of living beings. I hope none of you, having been sheltered from the kind of life my people lead, will be too shocked by the things –"
"Get on with it," growled Celia Faulkner. "We're shocked by damned little."
Harl shrugged. "Girl," he said, "How did you come to be on this ship?"
"Captain Atal requested my assignment here."
"You were already one of his officers?"
"Yes. His Bos'n, anyway. A non-commissioned officer."
"And how did you come to be one of his officers?"
"He took command of my last ship."
"And how did you come to be on a Confederate Naval ship?"
"I was recruited by her previous Captain."
"You were pressed into service?"
"I... needed passage. I volunteered."
"To be the Captain's whore?"
She took a breath. "No."
"Did you have sex with him?"
"Yes."
"Would he have let you stay if you hadn't?"
"No."
"Then you were his whore."
"We exchanged services."
He grinned. "Fancy term, coming from gutter trash." He raked his glance at his audience, looking for reactions. Pallas looked unsettled by the conversation. The entire subject was, essentially sacrilege on her world. She hadn't had the benefit of long years away from Phaeton, as Mors had. Sexuality would, it followed, embarrass or even enrage her, to judge by the behavior of others of her kind.
Aer'La started to rise, her muscles tightening. In a moment, without intervention, Harl would be dead. Atal was tempted to let the moment pass, but he inclined his head ever so slightly, letting her know she was to keep her place. She did. He had to give her credit. She was trusting him to bring her through this. Atal didn't know if he would have trusted another that far.
"And when Captain Atal took over, you began 'exchanging services' with him?"
She colored and looked down. "No."
Harl raised his eyebrows. "No?"
"I've never had sex with Captain Atal."
Harl looked to Atal for verification. His look raked the Captain's body and clearly suggested that his reproductive organs must be missing or defective, if he'd passed up such an opportunity.
"She's telling the truth," Atal said.
He turned back to her. "Did you offer yourself to him?"
"I did." She said it slowly.
"And he refused you?"
"Yes. No. He helped me without asking for payment."
"He gave you charity?"
For the first time, she held her head up and met his eye. "Charity is giving to those who have done nothing to earn it. Captain Atal helped a fellow being, by allowing me to stay where I was useful and to earn my keep. That's what civilized beings do."
"Oh? And since you are so civilized, do you now offer your "services" to all takers for nothing?"
"No. I offer them only when I want to."
"And if the Captain demanded that payment now? Would you refuse?"
She looked at Atal and said gently. "His kind of man would never demand that sort of payment." After a pause she added, almost muttering, "And, because of the man he is, I would not refuse him anything."
Harl looked pointedly at the others. Again his eyes locked with Pallas's, longer this time. Her jaw was tight. Harl seemed pleased. Then he returned to Aer'La, leaning close. "Are you an Inihu?"
Aer'La's face was impassive, but her eyes held panic. What was she to say? Atal answered for her.
"Of course she is. No one's denying what her species is. We're simply denying that you have any reason to take her.
"Don't I?" asked Harl. He turned back to Aer'La. "Tell me, girl, where were you when you first... ahem... joined this crew?"
"What difference does it make?" she asked.
Harl raised his hand as if to strike her. Aer'La bared her teeth. Metcalfe reached for his sidearm.
Atal spoke quickly to stave off violence. "Captain Harl, you will not touch her. Try that again, and I'll clap you in irons."
Their gazes met, Harl clearly assessing his ability to take Atal in a fight. His assessment must not have been favorable, for he quickly looked away.
"I need to know where she was," he muttered.
Atal nodded. "Tell him, Aer'La."
"I was on Den."
"You escaped your keeper?"
"I escaped you. At the auction block."
Harl looked up. "She lies again. She was... under medical care." He reached into his vest and extracted a small holo globe, the cheap kind which tourists could buy at spaceports. He tapped it on. An image of a child appeared before Aer'La, whose face paled.
"You know this girl?"
"I –"
"You should. You robbed her."
"No! It wasn't like that!"
"You also murdered her, didn't you?"
"No! She was hit by a car!"
"After you slit her throat and threw her body in the street!"
Aer'La looked franti
cally to her fellows. "He's lying!" she cried.
Harl shook his head. "Dishonest to the last." He put his nose almost against hers and cupped her chin. Aer'La turned her face from his breath. "Don't you think it would make you feel better to tell the truth, girl?"
Atal knew Aer'La could stand no more of this. "Captain Harl, have you quite finished your... investigation?"
"I'm satisfied that she's the one I'm after. Of course, I was satisfied of that all along."
"Then, since Bos'n Aer'La's presence is not required while we discuss terms, might I allow her to go?"
He nodded, laughing to himself. "You can let her go – if she's confined. But discussing terms will do you no good. I'm taking her."
"Midshipman Metcalfe will escort her to her cabin, where she'll be placed under arrest." Metcalfe held his arm out to Aer'La, who stood, and, uncharacteristically, accepted the proffered appendage.
As they moved to go, Harl added a final dig. "Doesn't it embarrass you, girl, to have manipulated your betters this way? Don't you wish you'd spared yourself the humiliation of having people," he gestured at Pallas, "like this fine lady learn what you really are? What you've done?"
She met his gaze. He waited patiently for her eyes to drop in supplication. After a few moments, she spat in his face. Celia snorted a harsh laugh. Atal had to bite his own lip. Harl, calm with the assurance that he'd already won his battle, wiped his nose with his sleeve.
"Fortunately," he said, "I've been inoculated against the diseases these creatures carry."
After Metcalfe led Aer'La away, Harl looked across to Pallas. He seemed to have zeroed in on her, having spotted weakness which he hoped to manipulate and create an ally. "You see how they behave when trapped? It's for their protection, as well as that of society, that we keep them... controlled."
"Control," said Mors, "is rarely of benefit to the controlled. Yet the benefits are often touted by those who do the controlling."
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