“Y-yes. I’ve always been interested in astronomy, and I’ve read a lot of books that …”
“Good. Tae,”
She heard herself saying, “My solar system contains one sun and nine known planets and numerous planetoids. My world possesses one large, natural satellite. There are several terrene planets and several gas giants circled by ice-crystal ring formations. Familiar stellar arrangements visible from my system are designated as The Big Dipper, Orion, Leo, Scorpion …” Martil groaned, and Renee-Tae finished lamely, “I have little further useful information in this regard and am unable to furnish adequate astronomical coordinates of my solar system’s relationship to other systems classified by your culture or Chayo’s.”
For a long while, Martil slumped, shaking his head dejectedly. When he looked up, he dodged Renee’s gaze. “It is impossible,” he said.
“Put me back. Please!”
“Impossible,” Martil repeated. “We moved, from our point of departure to this, Chayo’s world, a distance in calculable, perhaps inconceivable by you. Somewhere along that route, you joined us, without warning, and without the help of a Ka-Een. I still cannot fully absorb that. Along that route are many, many solar systems. And among thousands of planets is the one you call your ‘Earth.’ There are also literally thousands of others there which would not support humanoid life for a fraction of a second. The Ka-Een have no way of determining when you, as it were, ‘came aboard.’ From their viewpoint, you simply winked into existence. They cannot return you to your home because they do not know where it is. If they attempted to retrace the pattern, the odds are overwhelming they would jump wrong, and you would arrive on a world not your own — entering an environment instantly fatal to you.”
He spoke slowly and carefully. Renee guessed that Tae’s contact made the words even more potent. They seemed to strike her like missiles.
Until now, she had assumed this experience — assuming it was real — would be brief. It would end, like a quickie vacation, when Martil pushed some fancy buttons on the Ka-Een pendant and reversed things. Apparently, that wasn’t the case. Not at all.
More and more, with a sick, sinking feeling, she was accepting that the situation wasn’t a dream. There had been no time telescoping, no blurred scene shifts, none of the regular aspects of a sleeping fantasy. This was going on far too long, far too vividly, and in a straightforward, steady sequence.
And if this wasn’t a dream, she was trapped. Utterly and irretrievably trapped.
No way out. No way back home to friends and coworkers and the only world she had ever known.
Renee felt as if she were riding in an out-of-control elevator car, its cable severed, as it plunged from the top of the World Trade Center. She swallowed hard, fighting an internal tidal wave of tears, and lost.
This couldn’t be happening! She was blubbering. She, the clinic’s toughest probationer, the former tomboy, proud of her resilience and her ability to bear up under the onslaught of the clients’ relayed pain.
Their pain. Never before had she had to cope with an avalanche of personal terror like this!
She swayed, dizzy and nauseated, and Tae’s fingers jerked away from her forehead. Martil and Chayo grabbed a furry blanket off a bench and wrapped the coverlet around her, gently leading her to a corner of the room and easing her into a comfortable chair. For a time, the men hovered, solicitous, fetching Renee a tumblerful of water, putting her feet up on another chair to counteract shock. She didn’t respond, too lost in that awful funk, and eventually they withdrew, their manner awkward. Plainly, Tae, Martil, and Chayo were concerned, but uncertain what more they could do to help her.
Dimly, watching the scene from a seeming distance, Renee acknowledged that she knew their feeling. Every day, men, women, and kids who had suffered devastating emotional and physical blows sought help at SOS’s clinic. Sometimes, medical treatment and tender loving care weren’t enough. The victims had to be left alone to weep and sort through their agony. All compassionate onlookers could do in such cases was be there for those people when they were ready to rejoin the wider world.
I’m not going to participate in that process any more, she thought. It’s gone. No, I am. I’m light-years away from the clinic. Stranded here. I’ll never see Evy or my other friends again. Maybe they’ll wonder what happened to me. Maybe I’ll even get written up in the sensation rags and occult books: “The Woman Who Disappeared on the Freeway.”
But eventually, people would begin to forget her. Her life up till the moment she’d been kidnapped out of her car had been one of massive insignificance. No major contributions to Earth’s cosmic scheme of things. Looking at it that way, she wouldn’t really be missed. Another probationer would replace her at the clinic and on the Sisterhood’s staff. Her car would be towed away for junk. When she didn’t return, her landlady would have Renee’s small batch of furniture and books hauled into storage in the apartment’s basement and lease the rooms to a new renter.
Gone. As if she had been erased.
Martil was right. She couldn’t go back. And she knew, now, she wasn’t lying on the expressway, delirious with shock.
Was there any other possible explanation for all of this? Well, maybe she was dead. A chilling idea, that.
Okay. If I’m dead, where’s the so-called “blinding white light,” “the tunnel to the afterlife,” and all the dead relatives and friends awaiting me on the “other side”?
The sole light was Prince Chayo’s magically glowing Lith. The only tunnel she’d gone through had been those damned gray stone walls, and a hell of a lot of rain. The voices “from beyond death’s door” weren’t; they were those of Martil and Chayo, right here in this very present-worldly room with her.
Besides, her throat hurt and her eyes stung from all that bawling. And her instep throbbed from where she’d stepped on the pebble. Pain? Not even the lurid, sensationalists rags mentioned pain in their breathless reports of what it was like to be dead — and miraculously return to life.
“It could not have been prepared for, Prince,” Martil was saying, “though I do feel compelled to offer my apologies. You took such great care to elude detection. It seems a pity this has thrown your plans into confusion.”
Chayo nodded absently. “As you have stated, it could not be helped. Your quick actions made the attackers think you are slain. Given that, maybe we can continue successfully. There must be an end to this crisis. Arbiters, your presence is crucial. But —” He looked anxiously at Renee, “— what will this do to your mission?”
Martil, too, turned to stare at her. Tae was already gazing in her direction, as he had been all along. Renee got to her feet, still clutching the furry blanket, and shuffled toward the men. She still felt somewhat rocky, but at least she was no longer blubbering.
“I don’t know,” Martil said unhappily, shaking his black mop. “I’ve received a faint suggestion from the Ka-Eens that she might be incorporated into the team. An apprentice. But that can’t be. She has no training. No advance preparation regarding your species’ customs and the problems we’re facing …”
“It would be wonderful if she joined you!” Chayo exclaimed. “My royal mother was not pleased that the Arbiters were sending two males. The addition of my Lady Renamos …”
“Out of the question!” Martil snapped. He rubbed at his temples, and the crease between his eyebrows deepened as Prince Chayo went on arguing in favor of Renee’s joining the team.
What team? Nobody had asked her opinion or filled her in, and she was getting damned irked about that. The nerve! Discussing her future like she was a lab animal or something, as if she weren’t even in the room!
“You must accept the Esteemed Lady Renamos,” Chayo insisted. By now she was getting used to the way he slurred her name, making it into “Renamos.” Was he doing it, or were the Ka-Een pendants using translational shorthand? “It is fair. And if you do not, the Gevari may use her presence as an excuse to misunderstand …”
There was an earsplitting roar, the Lith globe flickered, and a section of the ceiling caved in with a dusty crunch.
Renee quailed and once more flung her hands over her head, letting the furry blanket fall where it might. When she dared to peep between her fingers, she saw she was surrounded by male bodies. They, too, were crouching and covering their heads. Martil was the first among them to regain his voice. “Oh, they haven’t misunderstood and their detection methods are working beautifully! How did they find us again so quickly?”
“Watch out!” Chayo shouted. “Resonance! The Lith will react! Turn your backs!” He shoved Renee against the wall and shielded her with his own body.
There was a sharp cracking noise, and glassy shards began ricocheting around the room. Illumination dimmed to a twilight glow supplied by a few gleaming panels above the tapestries.
Then a whining screech made Renee wince. Oh, no! Not another of those incoming feedback howls! Those were followed by explosions. And this time Tae couldn’t throw a fake-out rag away into the great outdoors.
“I hope you have an escape hatch in here!” Martil yelled, somehow making himself heard above the din.
Surely “escape hatch” wasn’t what he said, but that was the way Renee’s Ka-Een interpreted the phrase; she was getting used to that instant-conversion-into-familiar-terms effect.
Chayo quit trying to push her through the wall and squirmed to one side. He ducked caroming debris, groping at a panel. Renee sensed he was seeking that “escape hatch.” She yearned to help him, but she didn’t know what the thing looked like. As the prince prodded a particular spot, a narrow door opened.
A secret passage! Just like in a horror movie!
Well, isn’t that what this is? she thought. A crazy, futuristic horror movie. And I’m caught in the middle of it. A woman could get killed this way.
At Chayo’s urging, she, Martil, and Tae scrambled through the opening. The prince was the last to leave. Beyond the door, there was a tunnel lit by an eerie radiance. Renee glanced back and saw Chayo tugging at a handle on the inner side of the door.
Suddenly, a muscular arm seized her about the waist. She was hoisted off the ground, tucked under Tae’s arm like a bag of dirty laundry. The blond was running, not even breathing hard, loping down a ramp.
Renee’s ribs ached where she was being jounced on the big man’s hipbone. She struggled to get loose, with no success whatsoever. Tae only slowed his pace a trifle to avoid running over Martil, who was leading the exodus.
A tremendous, echoing boom rang along the tunnel. Renee’s ears closed up shop for a few seconds. The sound was so loud it hurt, vibrating her skull and breastbone. She grabbed at her aching head, and was immediately thrown off balance, tipping face downward in the crook of Tae’s arm. Hastily, she put out her hands, skipping her fingertips on the floor until she could push herself back into a more stable position.
Eventually, the tunnel began to level out. Tae powered down to a trot, then to a walk, then halted and set her back on her feet. She tugged what remained of her skirt and blouse into some semblance of decency. “I can walk, you know,” she said aggrievedly. “Even run, when the occasion warrants.”
“Not fast enough,” Martil said. “You’re too short.”
True, but did he have to be so blunt in pointing out her flaws? She’d wanted to grow up to be a statuesque Amazon, like Evy, but her genes hadn’t cooperated. Was it her fault her ancestors had been people of average height or less?
“Which way now, Prince?”
In response to Martil’s question, Chayo took Renee’s elbow and steered her to the right. The tunnel connected with a cave there. Small, floating globes — baby Liths? — clustered against the ceiling, casting a harsh, mercury-vapor-style light over the underground scene. At several locations, flashing orange lamps marked other entrances to the cave. Renee turned and saw a similar flasher over the tunnel they’d just left. Was there an entire suburb of pseudo-medieval apartments like Chayo’s, each one with a tunnel access to here? Whatever here was.
“Where are we?” she asked.
“In the lower level of Niand’s transportation complex,” Martil said, looking to Chayo for confirmation of his guess.
The prince nodded, his expression petulant. “They wrecked my quarters. Those Gevari! Those motherless …”
“I’m sure a man of your rank has numerous accommodations,” the fox-faced man retorted. “We’ve already discussed the fact that this can be dangerous. Better a wrecked room than wrecked people.”
Renee certainly agreed with that.
Martil felt gingerly at the crown of his head, and Tae peered at his scalp, frowning worriedly. “Oh, are you hurt?” Renee said, ashamed that she’d been so self-centered. “All that glass flying around back here … we’d better do some first aid.”
Annoyed by the attention, Martil said impatiently, “It wasn’t glass. And we haven’t got time to waste on such minor matters. It isn’t wise to hang around there.”
No argument!
A large, egg-shaped thing zipped by a curve in the cave’s wall and whispered to a stop a few yards away from the quartet. Renee gawked at the object. All she could think of was a pale blue hosiery container with a thyroid condition; the thing was bigger than her apartment’s bathroom.
Chayo bowed to her, ushering her toward the “egg.” It developed a purse-lipped bulge on the side facing her. Martil and Tae were hurrying toward the oversize whatsis, but Chayo insisted that this time “Esteemed Lady Renamos” should enter first. Without enthusiasm, she allowed herself to be hustled inside.
Once she was there, Prince Chayo invited her to sit, though she saw nothing to sit on. Martil yanked at her arm. Her middle ears jangling, Renee toppled, readying herself to break her fall. However, she didn’t fall. Instead, the “egg” produced a cushiony seat. It blossomed beneath her, soft and balloony, almost obscenely comfortable. Other seats appeared to accommodate the men.
“Er … thank you,” Renee said lamely. Who was she thanking? Chayo? The “egg”?
They were moving. There had been no start-up jolt, no sensation of acceleration. Just an instantaneous shift from standing still to frictionless velocity. From the outside, the “egg” had been opaque. From within, its walls were totally transparent. Renee watched a near-blur of underground scenery as the vehicle swept along invisible tracks. She caught glimpses of more tunnel exits marked by orange flashers, and people emerging from the ramps. Most of them were getting aboard other “eggs” and riding off to who knew where. Obviously, the cave was a sort of subway, equipped with lots of these egg-shaped private cars rather than trains.
Chayo noticed her stupefaction and misread it. “Do not be frightened, Lady Renamos.”
“I’m not.” Renee leaned back. The egg vehicle created extensions of the balloony chair cushions, cradling her head and shoulders. How convenient! She said, “At this stage of the game, I’m ready for damned near anything.”
“Not quite,” Martil warned her. “Prince, can your Gevari rebels trace us here?”
The prince studied his well-manicured nails — on his six fingers and his thumbs. “I do not see how they could. These accesses number in the thousands, and they are quite busy, as you see. Our matter-relay units, however, are much more easily interfered with.”
“Then we must remember not to use those.”
Chayo raised his head. His features were taut with rage. “Martil, they struck at me. At me. I had accepted this incredible threat, in my thoughts, but I had not fully believed they would reach so high. At the queen’s son! They would never have dared, ordinarily. Nor would I ever have been a target. I am of small importance,” the prince said with self-contempt. “They do so in order to destroy you, Arbiters. Are they mad? I knew they were vicious, but this! Can they not realize what is at stake?”
“You knew you were dealing with death when you volunteered to serve as your mother’s intermediary to the Arbiters.” Martil was the soul of fatalistic reason. He acte
d as though he were used to being shot at. “Millions have died in this war of yours. And billions more may die, if we are not successful. Don’t you understand that, even now?”
“It … the resisters’ stance is almost beyond grasping.”
“Not to us,” Martil said, sighing. “It is difficult for humanoids at your level of development to comprehend fully the deaths of more than a few entities at a time. And those are generally the lives of those physically close to them. That is a gap in sensitivity we hope to correct, especially for your military leaders and your opponents’ military leaders. We must. The alternative is too terrible to consider.”
Renee was galloping, mentally, to try to keep up with the conversation and fill in the blanks with speculations. A war. A big war. Prince Chayo’s people and their enemies. It sounded like Chayo’s mother was trying to get peace negotiations rolling, but hard-core elements of her society weren’t about to stop the killing. All too familiar. Chayo referred to Martil and Tae as “Arbiters.” Ah, ha! Neutral imports, apparently. From somewhere offworld.
Far offworld, judging by Martil’s explanation of why it was impossible for the Ka-Eens to return Renee to her home.
Remembering that grim reality, she was plunged again into depression. She had been a resister, too, resisting the truth of her situation. But the longer this experience went on, the more she gave in. No denying any of it. She was stuck. Thrown headlong into murderous political infighting among aliens and the visit of a pair of referees.
Tae had seated himself beside Martil and was picking lith fragments out of the smaller man’s hair and scalp-like a huge blond ape grooming a dark one. Martil cooperated by cocking his head to one side so that Tae could work quicker. The fox-faced man stared intently at Renee and said, “Before we can proceed with our mission, one critical problem must be settled: What are we going to do with you?”
Chapter 3
A chill chased away Renee’s depression. She countered her fear with a bluff. “What do you mean? You weirdos and your Ka-Eens kidnapped me, and you made it very clear that you’re unable to put me back where you found me. That makes you responsible. If you think you’re going to get rid of me by dumping me off somewhere like so much garbage, think again!” In the back of her mind, though, were images from TV news. Clumsy kidnappers and hostage-takers who in effect had done exactly that; burdened by innocent excess human baggage, they’d taken the easy way out and simply killed those unlucky enough to be swept up in their affairs.
The Sisterhood Page 3