by Adam Carter
Arowana’s face flushed with heat, but she was not sure whether it was through anger or embarrassment – perhaps a little of both. Thankfully Hawthorn spoke before she did, once again saving her as he seemed to like doing.
“Sure, Wraith,” he said. “I think you should tell us what you found with the gypsy.”
“Yeah, that guy was weird. Dresses like a poor man’s Robin Hood and doesn’t seem to have a clue about much. I told him to tell the Themistonians he knows all about pirates, in case we decide to spring him.”
“So now we’re contemplating a Themisto gaolbreak?” Hawthorn asked. “This evening’s getting better every minute.”
“Ignore him,” Arowana said. “He’s just grumpy because he’s awake. Wraith, what do you think about breaking out this gypsy? What was his name again?”
“Wyatt Harman. He’s a nobody, but even a nobody doesn’t deserve to die without reason.”
“They’re going to execute him?” Arowana asked, shocked.
“Crucifixion. I get the feeling they execute everyone. It’s something we do on Carpo a lot, as well. Small world syndrome, you know? Capital punishment for minor offences.”
Arowana remembered one time Wraith had told her lying was punishable by death on Carpo. At the time she had thought he was joking, but now having come to Themisto she was not so sure. It was infuriating to think that the computer augmentation to her brain included so much knowledge about so many things, but could only be populated by the knowledge of her programmers. Places like Carpo, and especially Themisto, were so secluded that her firm had clearly not been able to draw much information about them.
“It’ll also be a religious thing,” Hawthorn said thoughtfully. “You know, go the way of Christ.”
Arowana looked at him. “Could you actually be more insulting?”
“I guess. We’re not breaking this guy out, by the way. This Harman guy has nothing to do with us and it’s not our business to save every stray we come across. That’s the best way to end up dead real quick.”
“It’s also the human thing to do,” Arowana pointed out. She remembered when they had first met. Hawthorn had been suspicious of her motives and had found it very difficult to understand she cared about people purely because they were people. Hawthorn’s attitude was beginning to change, but it was a slow process. He was not a bad man, not even a selfish one – he was just a man who had been hurt so much by life he had erected barriers around himself and reacted aggressively whenever a friendly face approached.
“The human thing to do,” Hawthorn grunted.
“And that means?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing,” Arowana said, her rage building again. “Might you be referring to my augmented brain? Might you be making a crass comment that you’re somehow more human than I am because you don’t have an increased mental capacity?”
“No.”
“No? Such a short answer, it’s almost as though you haven’t bothered to argue at all.”
“I’m not having this out with you again, Iris.”
“Again? You always refuse to have it out with me.”
“So I’m refusing to have it out with you – again.”
“I never asked them to do what they did to me, Gordon. They took me in the night, cut me open and left me alongside a dozen others they’d done the same thing to. I was the lucky one, the only one who survived, and you’re not going to make me feel subhuman because of it.”
“I never said you were subhuman, Iris.”
“Then stop acting like I am. I’m not a machine, I’m a human being, which is sometimes more than I think you are.”
“Ladies,” Wraith said. “Could we focus a little here? We’re effectively trapped deep within enemy territory and we’re arguing with each other. We got ourselves into this by doing the right thing, and now we’re paying for it. All we have to do is decide whether we’re going to continue to do the right thing and rescue this gypsy, or whether we’re going to run off the first opportunity we get.”
“Is it even the right thing?” Hawthorn asked. “I mean, we only have his word that he’s not a murderer or anything.”
“You’re determined to take the easiest route, aren’t you?” Arowana said.
“Easy? Escaping this world isn’t going to be easy. Wraith’s right, we have to start treating this place like enemy territory.”
“Hey,” Wraith said, “what do you know? I’m right about something.”
The sound of heavy footsteps approached their room and the door was flung open. Father Dumah strode into the room, several robed figures behind him, all armed with staves and pikes.
“Uh, good evening, Father,” Arowana said. “We’re not all staying in this room tonight, honest.”
“Blasphemy! Treachery! Heathen criminals!”
Arowana exchanged a look with her companions. “Arowana, Hawthorn and Wraith, actually.”
Dumah extended an arm, his gloved finger trembling in fury. “Seize him.”
Robed figures grabbed Wraith. In fact, so many of them grabbed him he almost disappeared in their heavy attire.
“What is this?” Arowana asked. “Why’s he being arrested?”
“No, the sister of Jezebel shall not speak. Her words are poison, her eyes those of a snake, her face that of a …”
“Miss Arowana,” Ariel said, interposing herself before Dumah could finish the comparison. “I’m sorry, but an accusation has been made. Your friend Wraith was observed in the prison area, talking to Harman and giving him advice.”
Arowana felt her heart sink. Wraith had kept himself alive all this time, only to mess up with stealth, which was supposedly one of the things he was actually good at. “It may not be true,” she said, painfully reminded of the death sentence guilt encouraged on Themisto.
“Yeah,” Hawthorn said. “Your witness was probably confused, having to look through an eyeful of bandages and whatever.”
“You’re not helping,” Arowana said.
“I’ve been framed,” Wraith complained. They could see him again at last, while his hands were being bound behind his back. “It was another beardy guy, I swear to God.”
“More blasphemy!”
Arowana winced. Even she could have told Wraith that might not have been the best thing to have said. She spoke directly to Sister Ariel. “But the witness, Sister. It could well be a case of mistaken identity.”
“I’m sorry, Miss Arowana, but there’s no mistake.” Ariel even sounded sorrowful, which was a bad sign of the sentence to come.
“How can you be so sure?” Arowana asked. “Who was the witness?”
“There was no witness, as such. We were informed by the gypsy, Wyatt Harman. He told us all about the offer your companion made him. I’m sorry, Miss Arowana, but sentence has been passed. Your friend Wraith will be crucified at dawn.”
CHAPTER SIX
“I’m sorry,” Ariel said, “but there’s really not much I can do. I understand your position and I feel terrible, after your having saved our children from pirates, but the fact is your man was caught spying.”
After Wraith had been taken away, Sister Ariel had agreed to talk with Arowana and Hawthorn, so the three of them had retired to a prayer room. The room itself was a part of the church, so the walls, ceiling and floor were all formed of large stone blocks. Heavy drapes hung over one wall, marked with religious designs, while a small window overlooked the world outside. There was a small table and four chairs: one for Ariel and three for any guests she might entertain. The final vacant chair sat as an ominous reminder of Wraith’s crime – or it would have, if Arowana’s chair was not also empty, with the woman standing at the window. About the walls were affixed sconces, in which candles burned deep into the evening air.
Ariel loved the room for the peace it offered. In times such as this it also afforded the pleasant atmosphere to calm troubled souls.
“He wasn’t spying,” Hawthorn argued, not for the first time. “Why would he be
spying?”
“We don’t know you, Mr Hawthorn. Please try to look at this from our point of view. You rescue our people, we extend our hospitality and you snoop around. There are some people, Father Dumah included, who think you arranged the pirate attack just so you could come here.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it? Like I said, we don’t know you.” She could see Hawthorn was becoming agitated where he sat, and wished she knew what Arowana was thinking. At the window and gazing out upon the world, however, Arowana’s thoughts were entirely her own. “Mr Hawthorn,” Ariel continued, trying to be diplomatic and honest at the same time, “I want you to know I believe you. I don’t think you’re spies, and I don’t think you organised the pirate attack. But I have no proof, you have to see that.”
“What happened to innocent until proven guilty?”
“On Themisto it’s much easier to assume guilt and let God pass judgement.”
“So you’re not even judging Wraith yourselves?”
“Don’t sound too hopeful. I don’t recall God ever saving anyone from crucifixion.”
“You do this often?”
Ariel knew full well the question was an accusation, but this was her church and she would not explain herself to outsiders. “You’re welcome to stay, Mr Hawthorn, but if you want my advice it would be to leave. Father Dumah is many things, but he’s also the head of the church, and the church is Themisto. We don’t have monarchs here, nor do we have elected officials, so Father Dumah is head of our world. And he doesn’t like you much.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“You’re missing my point, Mr Hawthorn. Father Dumah would love nothing more than to crucify all three of you. You’re uncouth, you bare your flesh and you have little respect for our ways. Also, Miss Arowana is a woman, and Dumah doesn’t like women.”
“This world is insane. We helped your people, we saved lives, and now you’re threatening to execute us all?”
“I’ll admit, it’s not ideal, but …”
“Not ideal? Having no clean socks is not ideal; losing a week’s wages on a bet is not ideal; being murdered for made-up charges when the only reason those charges could have been made is because we saved your lives … that’s idiotic.”
Ariel accepted his ire, for she could understand why he was upset. If he needed to let off some steam by shouting at her, she could accommodate him. But at the end of the day she needed to make him understand there was nothing he could do to save his friend. “I’m sorry,” she said, “but the decision’s been made.”
“Then the decision’s wrong.”
Ariel bristled at that, at least. “Please take care with your words, Mr Hawthorn. This is our religion you’re insulting.”
“We understand,” Arowana said, turning from the window, “and we accept. Gordon, we’re leaving.”
He blinked. “Leaving? As in leaving this room or leaving Themisto?”
“As in leaving.” She strode past him, took him by the arm and almost gently dragged him from the chair. Ariel did not know what she meant, either, but she knew determination when she saw it and whatever Arowana had planned could not have been good.
“I should warn you,” Ariel said, “whatever you have in mind, it will end badly for you.”
“Then pray for us. I’m sure you can do that much without offending your beliefs.”
“Wait. I can offer you an alternative.” Her words brought Arowana to a halt, but Ariel was unsure whether she should even say what she was going to. The truth was she felt bad for everything that had happened. She firmly believed in Themistonian society, but in this instance the system had let them down. Wraith had been accused by a prisoner and Father Dumah had seized upon the opportunity that presented. It was not something they should have been proud of, especially since they were now just hiding behind the skirts of their religion, as though that offered a good enough excuse.
“Still waiting,” Arowana said.
Ariel reasoned she had been brave enough to stop them by mentioning the alternative: she could at least be brave enough to present it to them.
“God works in mysterious ways,” Ariel said. “It could well be argued that your coming here was a sign that God had had enough of these pirate attacks. Whether you came from Him directly or whether He simply redirected you here, the fact is you arrived just when we needed you the most.”
“You don’t need to give us the religious spiel,” Hawthorn said. “You’re offering us a deal, we’re willing to hear it.”
“It’s about these pirates we want you to deal with. If you solved that problem for us, even Father Dumah would accept that your coming was ordained by God; and Father Dumah would not execute God’s messenger.”
Hawthorn went to say something, likely to give further abuse, but Arowana held up her hand while she considered. Ariel had always liked Arowana. It was not simply born of natural Themistonian common sense, because Ariel knew full well the males outside of their little world were relatively sane. There was something analytical about Arowana which appealed to Ariel, something logical yet not cold. Arowana was a woman who could accept the best alternatives, even when they were terrible. Ariel hoped she would not prove her wrong.
“You’re determined to get us to clear those pirates away for you,” Arowana said.
“Religion is nothing if not tenacious.”
Arowana looked to Hawthorn, silently asking him what he thought. The man shook his head. “No,” he said. “Absolutely not. Iris, we can’t tackle those pirates.” He spoke through his teeth, as though he believed Ariel could not hear him. A stage whisper, she had heard it called, although had never known anyone stupid enough to think it would work.
“What choice do you have?” Ariel asked. “Leave Themisto and Wraith dies. Try whatever foolish rescue attempt you’re planning and Wraith dies. Scare the pirates away in your massive spaceship shaped like a sword and Wraith lives.”
Arowana narrowed her eyes. “You make it sound so easy.”
“It can be. You don’t have a crew, do you?”
Hawthorn’s back straightened and Arowana opened her mouth to say something, but Ariel waved away their arguments.
“I haven’t told anyone,” Ariel said. “And I won’t. I have no idea why you’re in possession of a Carpoan warship, but your business is your business. I get the feeling it’s just the three of you, travelling the stars.”
“More like travelling the spacelanes of Jupiter,” Hawthorn said.
“I’m religious – I’m allowed to be fanciful.”
“What if we agree to this?” Arowana asked cautiously. “You can make as many promises as you like about Father Dumah releasing Wraith if we succeed, but the fact of the matter is we could get rid of these pirates for you and you could still kill our friend.”
“We could, but that wouldn’t be very Christian.”
Hawthorn snorted. “I haven’t seen too many Christian aspects so far.”
“You’re allowed your opinions, Mr Hawthorn, but the truth is you need to trust me. It’s the only way to save your friend.”
Hawthorn looked decidedly uncomfortable, but Ariel knew he would agree to the idea. There was nothing much more he could do.
“All right,” Arowana said. “We’ll do it. But it’s not going to be easy without Wraith. He’s our communications guy.”
“You’ll just have to cover that yourselves this time around.”
Arowana held her gaze for several long moments. It was clear she was still trying to think of a way around their predicament, but was quickly coming to realise the depth of the hole they had sunk into.
“Hold off the execution for as long as you can,” Arowana said. “Whatever you have to do, do it. We’ll deal with the pirates for you.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. I think your entire society is despicable. At least your men have the excuse of being insane. Themistonian women, though? I think you’re barely even human.”
They
departed without another word and Ariel felt drained. It had been a long time since she had engaged in such a long conversation with outsiders, and the problem with talking to these two was that they were right. Themistonian society was so far removed from how their religion had existed centuries earlier, or even how Christianity flourished in its various forms throughout the solar system. Isolated as they were, Themisto’s culture had developed along entirely different lines and they now embraced many aspects of the Bible far too wholeheartedly.
She had often believed the changes in Themistonian religion to be absolute proof of the theory Darwin had begun with his tortoises. It was a sobering thought every time she had it.
Setting aside her theological debates, Ariel began to plan her greatest challenge: getting Father Dumah to accept the idea that these strangers he hated so much were gifts from God.
Somehow, Ariel would have preferred to be dealing with the pirates.
CHAPTER SEVEN
She was having a dream about warmth and light. It might have been the seaside, but Bethany Hart was not sure. She knew it was a dream because she felt safe and happy, which were two feelings she had not known since being kidnapped by Europan pirates. The sugary tang of doughnuts and ice cream hung in the air, with a backdrop of the distant roar of a rollercoaster.
“Hart, get up.”
Something yanked her and she was abruptly awake. When she had first been taken, Hart had not mastered the art of going from deep sleep to wide awake in an instant. It had caused her many a bruise and abrasion but soon enough she had been quick enough to waken that she could evade being injured.
First Mate Sturgeon was standing beside her bunk, pulling her chain hard enough to tear the metal into her wrists. Hart had her own room, but it was smaller than a storage cupboard. It consisted solely of a twin bunk held snugly against one wall, with barely room enough to stand in the rest of the room. She slept on the bottom bunk and kept her clothes and meagre possessions on the top. It was a far cry from how she had one time lived, but it had been a long time since she had felt self-pity enough to think much about it.