by J Gurley
“We are honored to greet your arrival. My name is Inaya Pachmarudhi, the Chancellor of Kolkata Dome. Our Esteemed Lord, Vinjay Alahambra Khan, could not leave his palace. It would not be seemly to mingle with the masses. He has sent me to do you honors in his name.” She bowed deeply. He noticed the others made certain to bow lower than she did.
Moore took an instant dislike to the chancellor but tried to hide his feelings. He had met similar dignitaries on dozens of worlds, a perfunctory diplomat who deemed all others below her station. Her broad smile barely hid the contempt in her cold eyes. Her skin was alabaster, almost as white as the cranes wading in the river. She was too thin for Moore’s taste. She appeared to be in her mid-forties. She would have been pretty, but the dark lines around her cold, dark eyes and her ruby-red lips looked more sinister than inviting. She wore her long black hair in a tight bun on the back of her head, held in place with two delicately carved ebony pins.“You do us honor. We are here seeking comrades that crashed on a large continent to the west near Denver Dome.”
Pachmarudhi consulted one of her companions. “We have not heard from our brothers in Denver Dome in the many years since it was destroyed by rebels and religious zealots. Some survivors fled here. We had assumed all others had perished long ago. The land there is extremely harsh, unlike our own lovely valley.” She raised her hand and extended it toward the plains.
“Our comrades are still alive. They signaled us just a short time ago, informing us that an armed party of men is pursuing them. We must rescue them. We came here first to meet with you because you seem to be the last remaining population center. Thank you for disarming your defensive satellites. We desire to show you we mean your people no harm. Our primary purpose is to discuss trade with your world.”
Again, Chancellor Pachmarudhi consulted her assistant. “My Lord Khan would never forgive me if I did not present your group to him. I must insist you do us this small honor.”
She lifted her hand, and twenty uniformed men stepped from the crowd, armed with rifles. Moore recognized an armed escort when he saw one. He briefly considered resisting, but then noticed triangular- shaped planes rolling out of their hidden hangars at the edge of the landing field. He couldn’t mistake the large pods mounted beneath the stubby airfoils as anything other than weapons. Even if the Baldry managed to take off, the planes would probably shoot them down before they had a chance to defend themselves.
“Secord, come with me. Mr. Desmond, take command until we return. Follow Plan B in twelve hours.”
Desmond frowned. “Yes, Sir, Plan B.” He was not happy. Plan B ordered him to get the ship away on the assumption the captain was either dead or a prisoner.
Moore and Secord followed Pachmarudhi as the armed guards shoved the people out of their path, sometimes brutally. As they reached the vehicle, Moore noted with a trader’s eye that it floated above the ground using antigravity motors. If they could reach a trade agreement on antigravity, the voyage would pay for itself. Four heavily fortified bunkers flanked the dome’s massive doors. He spotted the barrels of large bore cannons and heavy machineguns protruding through narrow slits in the bunkers. More troubling was the fact that all four weapons emplacements could fire either outward toward the landing field or inward through the doors, keeping people either out or in.
The dome was clean and neat, but cosmetics alone could not disguise its age. Its buildings may have once been the peak of architectural perfection, but over the centuries, the occupants had converted them into simple utilitarian buildings. The only statues visible were of a tall man wearing flowing robes with his arms outstretched benevolently, as though embracing the entire dome’s population.
“My Lord Khan,” Pachmarudhi intoned with respect, noticing the direction of Moore’s gaze.
Moore simply nodded. Royalty did not impress him. He had seen too many worlds ravaged by petty warlords and despots. The car entered an underground garage and dropped them off at a regal staircase protected by six heavily armed guards. The guards eyed Moore and Secord with suspicion as they ascended the stairs behind Pachmarudhi. He had no doubt the guards would have shot them down instantly if not for her presence. Two lavishly dressed servants opened the polished brass doors for them. He stepped into a spectacular circular room. Three sets of three-tiered balconies lined three-quarters of the room’s perimeter, each separated by wide double doors. The fourth quadrant held a massive holovid screen.
As soon as they reached the center of the room, the holovid came to life, displaying a ten-meter tall likeness of Lord Khan. He looked down at them with a smile and spoke softly in his language. When he had finished, Pachmarudhi translated.
“My Lord Khan wishes to welcome you to Earth and to our city. He looks forward to enterprises that will be beneficial to both our peoples. He bade me make you welcome in his name.”
“Be sure to thank him for me,” More told Pachmarudhi. He suspected the image was merely a recording and doubted the message said any such thing.
With the servants leading the way, they were shown to a suite of rooms that made his quarters on the Baldry look like a storage closet. Three enormous bedrooms, each with its own bath, opened onto a central lounge as large as the Baldry’s aft storage hangar. Soft, luxurious couches and low tables laden with bowls of fruit and bottles of wine were scattered about the room. A pool with an elaborate carved stone fountain in its center covered one entire end of the central room.
“Very nice,” Secord muttered under his breath. He had to agree.
“I hope you will be comfortable, gentlemen,” Pachmarudhi bubbled. “The servant will return shortly to escort you to the dining room.”
She abruptly turned and left. Secord started for the door. Moore stopped him.
“Don’t bother. It’s probably locked.”
“Are we …?”
“Prisoners?” he finished Secord’s question. “I don’t know. We’ll have to wait and see.”
Secord looked around, picked up a crystal goblet, and poured a glass of wine. He tasted it cautiously, and then smiled broadly. “Still, if we have to be imprisoned …”
Moore nodded. “I know what you mean.”
With a more serious voice, Secord asked, “All this seems somewhat above and beyond, if you know what I mean.”
“Yes, but I doubt that many of the people here have access to such luxury. It’s as Earth was in the twenty-first century, if I remember my history. There were two classes of people, the Haves and the Have Nots.” He waved his hands around the room. “This definitely belongs to the Haves.”
“What do they want with us, the ship?”
Moore cocked his head. “Aye, but I doubt they really think they can take it from us, not with what I’ve seen. No, it seems more like a delaying tactic of some sort.”
“For what purpose?”
“That, Mr. Secord, is the question of the day.”
Moore had been mulling it over in his mind, but damned if he could think of a reason to hold them. The Kolkatans were surely aware that any attempt to harm them would incur a response from the Baldry. Even as small as she was, she could still do a lot of damage to a place like this. There had to be another reason, something to do with Denver Dome. He snapped his fingers.
“That’s it.” He looked at Secord. “Chancellor Pachmarudhi said they had lost contact with Denver Dome during a rebellion. They thought the city was dead. I told them there were armed men there. Damn my big mouth.”
“What is it?”
“They’re going to send men to Denver Dome. They want it back.”
“What can we do?”
Moore kicked a small table and sent its contents careening across the room to splash in the pool. “Not a damn thing,” he groaned.
By avoiding a direct fight with the people of Kolkata Dome, he had placed himself in an untenable situation. If they did not release him in twelve hours, Desmond would take the Baldry and search for Cathi and her crew. If so, his life and Secord’s was probably forfeit.
He checked his chronometer. He had eleven hours to come up with a plan. He certainly did not trust that female weasel, Pachmarudhi.
If they were honored guests at a state banquet, as Pachmarudhi said, then all was well and good. However, he had seen the expression on the diplomat’s face as she eyed the Baldry. She was almost drooling. She wanted the ship and would no doubt do anything to get it. Moore wondered briefly if that would include torture. He certainly would not put it past them.
“We’re probably under surveillance even now,” he told Secord. He looked around the room but saw no sign of cameras, not that he would know a spy camera if he saw it. Pachmarudhi’s people probably had a long history of spying on the populace. It was just one more way to keep them under control.
Moore had managed to settle down by the time a servant arrived to announce dinner. They followed him, flanked by two guards, down a series of lavishly appointed corridors until they arrived in the largest room he had ever seen. He knew it must be near the center of the dome, for the ceiling was invisible above them. He searched for but failed to find the source of the soft, pervasive light filling the room. It was almost as if the walls themselves glowed. The walls were at least two hundred meters apart and lined with recessed balconies.
Tables filled the immense room and servants scurried about like ants bearing trays of fruit and meat. The room could hold thousands, maybe ten thousand, but certainly not the entire population of the dome. From what little he had seen before they had whisked him into the dome, most of the populace did not eat like this. These, then, were the elite, the ruling class of Kolkata Dome. In spite of the large number of people gathered there, there was surprisingly little conversation. It was as if they were afraid what they said might be overheard. Better to say nothing.
The guards escorted him and Secord to an immense table near one wall, separated from the others by a high glass wall and resting on a raised dais. Moore assumed the glass was bulletproof. Twenty men and women sat at the table, including Pachmarudhi, grinning ear-to-ear as she wooed a young man half her age. The young man refilled his glass constantly and wore the dazed expression of a lamb led to slaughter. Perhaps he had heard frightened whispers of Pachmarudhi’s conquests and their eventual fate when she tired of them.
A seat at the head of the table was empty, the Khan’s, he presumed. Pachmarudhi jumped up and took Moore by the hand, patting it gently while slightly caressing it with her thumb, making him uncomfortable.
“Ah, Captain Moore, please be seated. You as well, Mr. Secord. Food will be brought immediately.” She cast a withering glance at a servant and waved her hand, and he immediately broke into a trot toward the kitchen. Moore imagined, with such a large room, the servants did an awful lot of running. “Wine?” she asked, producing a crystal decanter.
He accepted the wine graciously and took a tentative sip. The wine was surprisingly good with a delicate, dry aftertaste. He set the glass down. “Where is Lord Khan?” he asked casually.
Pachmarudhi frowned, and then smiled broadly. “My Lord Khan is extremely busy seeing to the many and constant needs of his people. He will surely make an appearance to greet you but just a short one.”
The food arrived hot and steaming and was set before them. Some things he recognized – rice, carrots, beans, some of the fruit, and the roast duck. Other meats were unknown. He sampled a few and found their tastes to be delicate but rich. “What is this?” he asked with his mouth full.
Pachmarudhi ignored his deliberate poor table manners and said, “Pork is the first. It comes from pigs, a porcine animal. The second is veal. It is the meat of newborn calves taken from their mother’s womb.”
Moore coughed as he almost choked on his meal. He reached for a napkin and spit his food into it. Pork he had heard of but never tasted since he was of Jewish descent. Few Jews still worshipped God in the same manner as their ancestors, but followed many of the dietary restrictions. Veal, however, was another matter. It was a barbaric practice. He was ashamed he had thought the taste pleasing. Still, as trade goods, they might offer a tidy profit in spite of his personal revulsion.
“Are you all right, Captain ?” she asked, feigning distress at Moore’s bout of coughing.
“Fine, fine. Merely went down the wrong way,” he explained as he took another sip of wine to rinse his palate.
Pachmarudhi smiled. “Once my people disdained the meat of cows and held them to be sacred creatures. That, of course, was foolish. Protein is protein, and times were very difficult for many centuries.” She dropped his smile and stared into Moore’s eyes. “We are no longer a foolish people.”
Before he could reply, a flurry of trumpets and drums filled the room from some unseen source, and everyone in the room suddenly rose to their feet. He and Secord followed suit. A floating platform surrounded by half a dozen guards entered the room from a hidden doorway behind them. Atop the platform, sitting on a golden throne, sat an extremely old man dressed in red silk robes inset with diamonds and jewels. The wealth of a small world was riding on the platform.
“My Lord Khan,” Pachmarudhi whispered with bowed head.
Moore did not bow but watched intently as the wizened old man approached. He was a good thirty years older than the image on the screen. As the leader of Kolkata Dome got closer, Moore saw just how old he was. The Khan could not be a day under 120 years old. He was merely leathery skin draped over a skeletal frame. His eyes, probably once blue and full of vigor, were now almost closed and dulled with age. The platform stopped beside their table.
“My Lord Khan, these are the men of which I spoke. They are returned from the stars.”
The Khan said nothing as he carefully examined his guests. He crooked one finger, and Pachmarudhi leaned forward and whispered something in his leader’s ear. Then his platform slowly floated away and exited the room through another cleverly constructed hidden doorway.
After he had left and everyone resumed the meal, Pachmarudhi spoke. “My Lord Khan wishes you to help us repair our defense satellites. They are our protection against Mars. You, after all, did destroy one in your attempt to land here.”
Moore knew the defense satellites protected larger weapons platforms trained on the planet and had served just such a purpose in the past. He guessed Pachmarudhi did not know that he knew. “If we assist you in their repair, what assurance do I have they will not be used against us?” he asked carefully.
By Pachmarudhi’s frown, Moore suspected that few refused her requests. “We seek only to protect our precious resources from Mars. They have tried to conquer Earth for centuries.” She smiled broadly. “We have no reason to wish harm to our new friends from the stars.”
Her smile was so big that Moore thought he could have piloted the Baldry through it. He nodded his head as if considering the idea. If he refused, he suspected Pachmarudhi would order their immediate execution.
“It can be done. My engineers should be able to make the necessary repairs.”
“We are most grateful but, in reality, it is better to teach a man to fish than to feed him. Our engineers have studied the plans for the satellites carefully and thoroughly understand them, but alas, we have no way with which to reach them.”
There’s the kicker, Moore thought to himself. They want the Baldry.If they ever get aboard, they’ll take her for sure. “My ship is too large and cumbersome for such an operation,” he lied. “Perhaps I can contact Mars. They should be more than willing to trade one or two smaller ships perfect for the job in exchange for, say, food. Animal life is still rare on Mars. Meat is a luxury item.”
He saw that Pachmarudhi was considering the option. “We would have to control the trade,” she said warily.
“No problem. You could meet outside the defense satellite screen and exchange goods. No one would land on Earth.” It sounded good to him. He hoped Pachmarudhi was buying into it. In reality, Mars had plenty of meat, though they were mostly vegetarians. What Mars wanted from Earth was technology they suspected still exi
sted there. If there was technology on Earth, then the Traders Guild got first crack. He had not come all this way for nothing.
Pachmarudhi’s look of contemplation suddenly turned into a cold calculated grin. “You had me going, Captain Moore. I almost believed you. Your ship will suffice. I am sure we can learn to operate it in time. We are a resourceful people. We must defend ourselves from Mars and from your brethren returned from the stars.” She almost spit the words as she said them. “You left us here to fend for ourselves and are surprised to find us still here after such a long time. This is our world and we will keep it,” she screamed. “Earth is no longer yours.” She raised her hand and a dozen armed guards surrounded them. “You will call your ship and order them to surrender, or we will attack it with our planes and rebuild it after your men are dead. You may remain here in luxury, but the ship must be ours.”
She handed Moore a small radio. “It is set to the frequency you used to contact us. Call them.”
Calmly, he took the communicator and called his ship.
“Mr. Desmond. This is Captain Moore. You will surrender the ship immediately, or they will kill Mr. Secord and myself. I will give you two minutes to inform the crew and call me back.” He handed the radio back to Pachmarudhi.
“Very wise, Captain Moore. You will see that we are a reasonable people. Too long have our brothers in North America been away from our fold. I am a descendant of those who fled Denver Dome during the murderous rebellion centuries ago. It is time we become one people once again.”
Another way of saying slavery, Moore thought. Slowly, pretending to wipe away nonexistent perspiration from his neck, he pressed the comm unit to activate it.
“So, we’re your prisoners,” he said to Pachmarudhi.
“Hostage is a more proper term.”
Ten minutes passed. Pachmarudhi was visibly growing impatient. “Is it not time for your ship to call you back?”
“Any minute now, I hope.”
A guard ran into the room yelling at Pachmarudhi. Moore watched as Pachmarudhi’s eyes turned to ice. They knew.