by Rose Estes
The one called Jorund met Braldt’s eyes. Braldt’s eyes blazed with rage, his pulse beat furiously in his temples, and he struggled to free himself from Allo’s embrace. Meeting the man’s gaze was like being plunged into an icy stream, the shock was so great. Yet in that single, swift glance, he saw compassion and concern as well as a silent plea for caution. Braldt stiffened, wondering if he had imagined it. He studied the man’s face, looking for confirmation, but the man known as Jorund had lowered his eyes and stared at the ground as though the matter was of little importance to him.
“No, Kiefer, I think it would be more amusing to let him live,” he drawled. “Some of us are interested in this one.”
Braldt’s heart began to pound as he watched the man, wondering if he had been mistaken in believing that he had given a message as well as a warning.
The man known as Kiefer hesitated, and for the first time Braldt was able to read uncertainty in his stance. Abruptly, he dismissed the hard one who lowered his weapon and rolled off in reverse, balanced on his single wheel.
“I hope you are right, Jorund. I hope we are not making a dreadful mistake. I—I had thought, had hoped that he would be the one to be winnowed. The black man was so much the stronger and it would have simplified matters.”
“Strength means nothing. Strength will fail every time when pitted against a determined, superior intelligence,” said Jorund, and this time there was no denying it—as he spoke he looked directly at Braldt and the words were most certainly intended for him.
12
After Marin’s death, events moved at a rapid rate. The long hours of training grew longer still, often stretching into the nights as the newly formed groups of four learned to work together as a team, honing their skills and their many different techniques. They learned much they had not known about each other and grew to appreciate each other’s strengths.
Randi, they learned, had been a flight navigator on an intergalactic, scientific expedition. Her vessel had been struck by a cluster of meteorites which had penetrated the hull. The resulting loss of oxygen had killed everyone aboard with the exception of Randi who had had the good fortune to be wearing a space suit which contained its own supply of oxygen. She had been outside the hull of the ship, overseeing the repair of an instrument, and had seen the shower of boulders hurtling toward the ship but had been powerless to do anything but shout a warning before they struck; her companions were killed outright.
By using the air tanks of her dead shipmates, she had piloted the dying craft to the nearest rescue station which unfortunately was located on an uninhabited asteroid. She had activated the emergency distress call, hoping against hope that someone would hear her signal in that desolate corner of the solar system and arrive before her supply of oxygen was depleted.
Her call was heard and a rescue ship did arrive, but to Randi’s dismay it ignored the intergalactic code that governed the treatment of shipwrecked victims and immediately plundered her ship and took her prisoner.
Allo’s story was not dissimilar. He had been the purser of a heavily loaded trading freighter that had been attacked by pirates. Their frantic calls for assistance had been heard and answered, but the armed robots who soon appeared on the scene had disarmed everyone and taken all of them, pirates and victims alike, prisoner.
Septua alone remained silent on the subject of his past, diverting them with bits of nonsense and clever chatter whenever they asked a question. For all his loquaciousness and glibness, he was strangely silent about his past and how he had come to be in his current predicament.
Their stories were told at night, bit by bit, as they came to know and trust one another, and it served to bind them more closely. Marin’s death had changed that. After returning to their cell, Braldt had shared his thoughts with his companions and discussed with them what he thought he had heard, the veiled promise of help. Hearing the hope in Braldt’s voice and the excitement of the others’ responses finally broke Septua’s silence.
“I know them,” he said in a bitter voice. “They won’t ’elp you.”
“What are you talking about?” said Randi as they turned to stare at the little man. “What do you mean, you know them?”
Septua seemed to shrink inside himself, drawing his large head down between his shoulders and twisting his hands in a manner quite unlike anything they had come to expect from the brash, little dwarf.
“I know ’em. Lived with ’em all my life on their ’ome planet. I know that you can’t trust ’em, not none of ’em, no matter what they says.”
They stared at him in silent disbelief, unwilling to think that he had valuable information that he had withheld from them, information that might have spared them pain and grief and perhaps even prevented their team member’s death.
Septua felt the weight of their eyes upon him and averted his head. “You wouldn’t ’ave understood. How could I ’ave told you, you’re all so upright and fancy. Pilots and navigators and sons of chiefs and the like. ’Ow would you ’ave understood what it was like for me? You wouldn’t ’ave, there’s no way you could understand what it’s like to be small and ugly. I never ’ad the chance to be nuthin’ but what I become… a thief. Would you ’ave liked me if you ’ad known? Would you ’ave let me be one of you then? No, I’d be the one dead instead of Marin.”
Septua’s voice rose to an hysterical pitch and rang shrill in the cold darkness of the cell. The murmur of voices fell silent and watchful as the dwellers of the dungeon held their breath and waited to see or hear what would come next, thankful that it was not they themselves who were at the heart of the crisis.
Braldt held out his hands to the little man and tried to calm him, but Septua jerked away at his touch as though Braldt had struck him. He avoided Allo’s reach and backed into a corner where he burrowed into the darkness as though trying to crawl into the stones themselves. Brushing Braldt and Allo aside, Randi knelt in front of Septua, making no attempt to touch him.
“I do not think it is fair to judge us by the treatment you have received in the past. Have we not been true friends and stood beside you from the start? Do you trust us so little that you would hold back information that might help us all to live? Come now, Septua, have we not shown ourselves to be honorable? What can it matter what one looks like in such a place as this? Survival is what matters and if not survival, then death with honor among friends. Do you not count me as a friend, Septua?”
“I wouldn’t be your friend for long if you knew about me,” sniveled the dwarf.
“I do not know or care what you have been before now,” replied Randi, choosing her words carefully. “I know only that you have been a loyal companion to me here in this place. That you keep my spirits high when I am depressed and cheer me when I lose hope. What you did before we knew you matters not. Come, my friend, share your knowledge with us, help us to know what lies before us. Help us so that we may live.”
Septua lowered his hands from his face, wiped his dripping nose with the back of his hand, and turned to look at Randi. His eyes were bright with tears and hope.
“I could do that, couldn’t I, tell you about them, tell you what I know, maybe some of it will help. Let us live a little longer.”
“Anything you tell us will help,” Braldt said, crouching down, putting himself on a level with the dwarf. “The more we know about our captors, the better our chances of survival. Come, Septua, tell us what you know. And tell us why you suspect this offer of help.”
“I don’t suspect nuthin’,” the dwarf said vehemently. “I know that you can’t trust nuthin’ they says. If they was offerin’ to help, why there’s got to be a trick in it somewhere’s, some kind of joke, on us. They never does nuthin’ to help no one but themselves. They’re selfish an’ cruel people with no thoughts for anyone else.”
“You say you come from their home planet,” urged Braldt, interrupting the dwarf’s stream of invective. “Is this not their home?”
“Nah,” spat the dwarf, beginnin
g to regain some of his old confidence now that he had everyone’s full attention and beginning to believe that he could avoid telling them of his own misdeeds. “Valhalla, that’s where they come from, an’ me too; it’s a long, long ways from ’ere. This ’ere is where they do some of their business an’ occupy themselves with stuff they couldn’t get away with at ’ome, stuff like us.”
“Valhalla,” murmured Randi. “Isn’t that one of earth’s old colonies?”
“Yup,” said the dwarf. “Started as an off-earth colony by a Scandinavian consortium way back in 2069. Businessmen an’ engineers paid for it themselves; the government didn’t ’ave nuthin’ to do with it. Never ’ad no say in the matter. My grandfolks was part of it from the start. They was tall people. With ’air, too.”
“If they’re businessmen and engineers, then what are they doing here?” Allo puzzled. “This is a very long way from earth.”
“Mining,” the dwarf said promptly. “Leases. The WWG opened this section for exploration and they claimed the whole sector. They don’t ’ave to answer to no one about nuthin’. They can do whatever they wants and no one is goin’ to say boo.”
“That’s not entirely true,” said Allo. “There is the small matter of the WWG. They cannot possibly condone what is happening here. It is in direct contravention of every code in the galaxy.”
“We’re a long ways from the WWG,” said Septua. “If they don’t know nuthin’, they can’t say nuthin’, an’ who’s gonna tell ’em?”
“Who or what is this WWG?” asked Braldt, filled with confusion by all of the strange terms and names he had heard, none of which meant anything to him.
“The Whole World Galaxy, it’s a federation that governs all of the worlds and people of the various galaxies,” explained Randi. “They make the rules that say what can and can’t happen, otherwise it would be anarchy, the rule of the strongest.”
“Something doesn’t seem to be working right,” Braldt said grimly. “These people certainly don’t appear too concerned about this WWG of yours—unless this federation knows and approves of what is happening here.”
“They don’t have a clue to what’s goin’ on,” said Septua. “That’s what got me put ’ere in this place and that’s ’ow come I knows those folks won’t ’elp us none, otherwise I wouldn’t be ’ere, now would I? Tried to ’elp ’em, said I would if the price was right an’ they agreed an’ everything. But instead I get caught and wind up ’ere and don’t even get paid!” the dwarf said indignantly, his eyes blazing at the injustice. “And where were they when I needed ’em? Nowheres, that’s where! So don’t you believe ’em when they say they’re going to ’elp. We’ll rot here ’til we die!”
“Well, my little friend, perhaps you had better tell us the whole story before the rot sets in,” Braldt said dryly. “There is much that I do not understand. Share your story with us and then perhaps we can decide what is to be done.”
The dwarf studied Braldt with a shrewd eye. “And why would I trust you?” he demanded coldly. “It’s trustin’ the likes of you that put me ’ere in the first place.”
Braldt was taken aback, perplexed by the little man’s words and his surprising display of hostility. “What do you mean, Septua?” he asked. “I have done you no wrong. Are we not friends?”
“You an’ I can never be friends,” Septua replied. “You ’aven’t fooled me none. Everyone knows you’re one of them.”
13
Keri was stunned to see Braldt standing in the open doorway. Light streamed into the small, dark cell, blurring her eyes with tears, but still she was able to see that it was Braldt. She stumbled to her feet and flung herself at him, wrapping her arms around his waist, so glad to see him that she was willing to forego any pretense of independence.
“I knew you’d come. I prayed to the Mother that you would find us and come to us and take us from this place. Where are we? What is this place and how did you find us?”
Only as she asked the question and received no reply did Keri began to realize that something was wrong. Braldt did not respond to her. His arm did not enfold her and draw her to him as it should have, and his body was stiff and unwelcoming. Nor did he speak the words of reassurance that she so desperately needed, words that would have told her that he had feared for her and felt her loss as strongly as she had grieved for him. The silence stretched on painfully, and at last, dreading what she would find, Keri raised her eyes. What she saw was more frightening than anything she might have imagined. It was Braldt, but it wasn’t.
His eyes were the same shade of blue, his hair the same closely cropped mane of white gold, his body strong and well muscled. But the blue eyes were cold and dispassionate and studied her as one might study an interesting beetle rather than a cherished lover. She searched his eyes for some sign of caring and found none. The eyes remained as cold and distant as a mountain lake. The man who was Braldt but was not, turned his head and spoke in a language that Keri could not understand, a string of harsh, clipped sounds that had no meaning. It was then that she noticed for the first time that he was not alone. Her legs grew weak and nearly gave way beneath her when she saw that the two men who accompanied the first were so like him as to be indistinguishable!
The men spoke to one another, gesturing at her and smiling, even laughing at times. Only one of the men did not seem to share their amusement or enjoy her distress. This one looked the same as the others, but there was a small difference. Keri was not certain at first that it was real; she was afraid that it was only imagined, something that her mind devised to keep her from madness. But then as the agonizing heartbeats stretched longer and longer, she knew that it was true. This one did not really take pleasure in her discomfort, he was only pretending. Keri could not have said how she knew this to be true, but she did. Then their eyes connected and she felt the impact of his thoughts, wordless, yet somehow comforting, a message that said “Be brave, you are not alone.”
She was still staring at the man, searching for some further confirmation of what she thought she had seen, when all four of the strangers stepped back hastily, something close to fear written on their faces. Keri looked up and saw that Batta Flor had wakened and now stood behind her, blinking against the bright light and frowning with concentration. Beast stood at his side.
“Who are they? What do they want? Why do they all look like Braldt?” asked Batta Flor, the words coming thickly.
“I do not know,” Keri said as she stepped back, gladly placing the bulk of his body between herself and the strangers.
“Where are we? What is this place?” Batta Flor asked as he emerged from the small room that had entrapped them, walking forward and causing the men to step back still further. His action was apparently unexpected for the men seemed alarmed and almost fearful. One of them fumbled for a long, thin, silver wand hanging from a belt at his waist, but the man Keri had connected with held out a hand and stopped him, shaking his head firmly. Reluctantly, the man withdrew his hand although he continued to watch Batta Flor closely.
Keri’s spirits rose. If they were afraid of Batta Flor, then perhaps things were not as hopeless as she had thought. But before she could share this thought with Batta Flor, two hard ones appeared, moving on silent wheels instead of legs, holding similar rods before them. Batta Flor jerked back, his face contorted in rage, the first real emotion Keri had seen since his ear had been so horribly mutilated. He roared in fury and the men scattered like leaves before a winter wind, leaving the hard ones to face him. This they did with precisely co-ordinated moves, coming at Keri and Batta Flor from both sides, rods extended. There was nowhere to go but back inside the dark cell where they would be trapped, but even as Keri glanced around behind her, the doors closed, removing even that unpleasant option.
Batta Flor struck out, one massive fist smashing down at a hard one. The hard one raised its metal rod, and as Batta Flor’s arm touched its gleaming length, there was a sizzling arc of light. Batta Flor screamed as he was hurled through
the air to smash against the doors of the cell and the stink of burned fur filled the air. Beast whimpered with uncertainty.
Keri dropped to her knees beside him and was glad to see that Batta Flor was only dazed. She lifted the arm that had been touched by the rod and saw that the fur had been burned away. Where the rod had touched his flesh, an angry weal was forming. “They burned you!” she cried in dismay. “Does it hurt?”
“It does not hurt at all,” Batta Flor said, his small eyes bulging from his head. “I no longer feel pain. I was only surprised. They cannot hurt me with their toys.”
One of the men nodded as though he had understood Batta Flor and uttered more of the guttural sounds. At his command, the hard ones swung away from Batta Flor and advanced upon Keri, rods held out before them like swords.
Having seen what the rods had done to Batta Flor and having no such protection from pain, Keri took several cautious steps backward. The men stood aside to let her pass. Unafraid, yet unwilling to be parted from Keri, Batta Flor and Beast followed, growling if the hard ones came too close. But the hard ones seemed content to trail behind them, brandishing their wands whenever they wanted Keri to move in one direction or the other.
They were traveling down a corridor carved out of red stone and lit by smoking torches stuck in stanchions in the wall. In spite of the light, the place was gloomy and dank. Occasionally, doors and other corridors opened off the passage, but the hard ones never deviated from the straight course they had set, herding Batta Flor, Beast, and Keri before them like grazing animals.
After a long time, the corridor began to slant upward and the rude, stone surfaces gave way to smooth-dressed brick, the smoking torches to globes of priest fire. In places, the walls were covered with brightly colored frescoes depicting scenes of battle, generally two groups of four warriors armed with a wide variety of weapons, pitted against one another. As concerned as Keri was with her own situation, she could not help but notice that the combatants were all different from one another. Some were people like herself, but those were in the minority. By far, most of those pictured were animals or animal-like, or unlike any life form Keri had ever known before. She tried to draw Batta Flor’s attention to the pictures, but he was uninterested, preferring to keep his attention focused on the hard ones, enemies he knew and had good reason to hate.