Cammarry finished healing and freeing the last of the escapees. Together those former slaves moved toward the door in the escarpment. The three of them. each wounded in his or her own way, hobbled into the underground corridors. The fourth man, who had escaped through the door, met them
Jerome and Cammarry stopped briefly after exiting the biome.
“What do we do now?” one of the men asked. He looked bedraggled and near to fainting.
“SB Sherman is friendly to our cause,” Jerome addressed the four. “Listen to that system, and you will be led to a safe place.”
“What is that weapon,” the woman asked. She pointed to the AWAD.
“Some friends made it for me. It disables the automacubes by striking them with a remote electromagnetic pulse, and neutrino disruptor. It wipes the logs and sets them back to default mode. The slave traders will never be able to use them again.”
“Jerome, we are leaving. They are free and can follow the instructions of SB Sherman now.” Cammarry threw one of the slaves the rifle she had taken from the dead patrolman, then turned and marched rapidly away. She began speaking in a very quiet conversation with Sandie via the com-link.
“Do we come with you?” another of the men asked.
“Not for now,” Jerome answered. “Like I said, follow SB Sherman’s instructions, and you will reach a safe place.” He then held out the rifle he had taken from the dead patrolman, and reluctantly handed it to one of the escapees. “We have bigger threats than the slave traders. At least they are humans. Only use the rifles as a last resort. Follow SB Sherman’s guidance.” Jerome sprinted away.
“Huh?” the man said and looked at the rifle in his hands.
The four escapees walked along and down the corridor. The bulkhead door sealed behind them as the newly freed slaves passed through.
“I do not know your names,” SB Sherman stated. “None of you have any implanted identification markers.”
“Right. Those slave-traders ripped it out of all of us when we were revived.” The man rubbed his skin where the implants had been crudely removed. “My name is Inteus, but none of the slave masters ever called me that. I was just property to them. But I am so thirsty. Is there water around here?”
“I did not think of that,” SB Sherman stated. “Forgive me. There is a functional lavatory forty meters ahead, and to your left. I will light up the way, and open the doors for you.”
The four escapees slowly ambled toward the lavatory, with the man named Inteus in the lead. He was carrying a rifle, and the others were supporting each other as they walked.
SB Sherman stated, “Please do not stray off the lighted path, as my abilities are limited, and I cannot track you since you lack implants.”
“Yes, you keep reminding us.” Inteus walked along, as he reached a corner, he spied an ESRC on the side wall. He rushed over and stood in front of the ESRC.
“There are some emergency supplies inside,” SB Sherman said and activated the door to open. “Take all that you need. I will put in an order with Reproduction and Fabrication to replace them.”
Inteus shook his head, but looked through the ESRC supplies. He passed out some of the boxes of food stored in suspended animation. The tools were taken out, but some of them were rusted and corroded. He threw the useless tools down in disgust.
The four escapes continued walking toward the lavatory. There they drank their fill of water, and then stripped off the soiled rags which were clothing. There was no shower in the lavatory, but they used the sink and water to wash their hair, and scrub themselves as clean as possible.
“I look terrible,” Inteus said as he gazed at his own reflection in the mirror behind the sink. His light blond hair was shaggy, his beard unkempt, and his cheeks hollow. His blue eyes blinked as some water dripped down from his mop of hair.
“We are all a mess. I cannot believe we were slaves,” the woman said. “By the way, my name is Doreen. I was at a lek plantation when the blue automacubes set us free. Good to use names again.”
“I do not suppose they have a personal attendant automacube available? Or an old-time barbershop nearby? The habitat personnel were supposed to be from some luddite-type of group. Not Amish, if I recall, but something like that. Oh, those parsons and their accursed Goddess Araceli….” Inteus’ words trailed off. He wept. “Not the pacifist Amish of history, not at all.”
One of the other men looked at the sink and then yelled out, “Slaves!” He slammed his fist into the sink. It did not shatter or break, but his fist was badly bruised. “Never again will I be a slave.” As he rubbed his sore fist, he looked down at the healed wound where the link of chain had passed through his leg, behind the Achilles’ heel. “I will get revenge for that too!” He drew back to strike the sink again, but then the throbbing in his fist reminded him to control his anger. He stormed out of the lavatory. “So where are the others?”
“Gilbert! Wait!” Doreen called. “I am too exhausted to go on.”
“Rodolfo, how hurt are you?” Inteus asked.
“Those strangers gave me medical attention, with some advanced technology. I will live.”
“We need to stay together,” Doreen said.
“Gilbert will not go far,” Inteus said. “None of us can go far. SB Sherman? How far do we have to go? To get to that safe place?”
“The pathway to the other escaped slaves is illuminated for you,” SB Sherman stated. “It will be a long walk, roughly forty-three kilometers from your current location, but as you move I will keep the doors closed so that no pursuers can follow you in these corridors. You are free to sleep and rest along the way, but do not go back up into the biome. You are beneath the sand-hills section of the biome. We have very few assets in the biome. You can remain on this level which will lead you to an elevator bank. From there you will need to take an elevator to the solar mimicry level where you can proceed to the safe domicile which we have for you escaped slaves. It is near Reproduction and Fabrication. I believe you will find replacement clothing, footwear, additional food, and other items made by the care of SB Bodowa.”
“No security automacubes in here?”
“I am able to keep the automacubes and the patrols away from your location while your travel,” SB Sherman stated. “It looks to them like the doors are experiencing mechanical failures. It is our way of assisting you escapees to reach the safe haven.”
Inteus looked at his bare feet. “I have nowhere else to go, but I must sleep first. I suppose the lavatory is as good as any place. Better than my slave quarters.”
“And at least here we are free,” Gilbert said as he returned to the lavatory.
The four found places on the floor of the lavatory where they could recline, eat their food, and drink water.
“But who were our rescuers?” Inteus asked.
SB Sherman answered from the hidden overhead speakers. “This is what I can tell you. Jerome and Cammarry….”
2 get it to jerome
“I think this was important,” Borko called to his siblings. His brown hands clutched the bound book he had found. He jumped down from the top shelf of the cabinet he had been climbing.
“But in this crummy light, how can you ever read a book?” Dmitar called back to his brother. All three of the triplets had medium brown hair, dark skin, and wide, dark-brown eyes. They were wearing the clothing of their adopted group, the Chicken People. The shirts had been tailored to fit their preadolescent frames, but done so in a manner that could be let out as they grew taller. The same was true for the heavy pants they wore.
“You could read it in the Fruit People’s orchards. Those places are as bright as back home,” Jadran added. “Or we can wait until we get back to the rooms and turn up the lights in the apartment.”
“Dick and Fedders say our lights are too bright and mess up the chickens.” Dmitar took on a mocking tone and strutted around in imitation of the adult men who led the group. “Our chickens must have the proper food, water, temperature, a
nd lighting for the best roosting, nesting, and feeding. Now my brother Fedders can tell you about the eggs. They…”
“Those big birds are not chickens,” Jadran interrupted the mocking. “Chickens are not this big!” He raised his hand. It was an argument the precocious boys had had ever since they had come, onto the needle ship. The Chicken People ridiculed the boys’ ideas, and even dismissed the adults from Beta who agreed with the boys. The Chicken People called the birds they raised, which were central to their existence, chickens, but the boys remembered the chickens from Habitat Beta which were much smaller and less aggressive.
“Right,” Dmitar agreed. “They are way too mean and big to be real chickens. A real chicken….”
“Whatever! They still taste good,” Borko retorted, as he knew that was the only point about the chickens that the people from Beta agreed about with the people on the needle ship. Borko did not want to, yet again, get into the circular argument about chickens, and was more eager about what to do with the book he had just discovered. “So what do we do with this book?”
“Can we trade it for more fruits?” Jadran asked. “Maybe like those apricot fruit bars?”
“Those are not apricots, they call them something else like; nectacotum, grapples, blood-limes, rangour, plucums, and peacotots. Like the chickens, they have funny words for stuff. Instead, I think we should get some leather from the Goat People. We need that, right?” Dmitar suggested. “I still think we can make bows and arrows if we just get better leather for the strings.”
“And real wood to cure and shape for the bow!” Jadran added. “But those roustabouts seem to get what little wood there is here for their carousel. I hear it is being built nicely, but will be some time before anyone can ride on it.”
“It will never be like the carousel in Beta with the sky tube shining down on it. That was a fun place,” Dmitar added. “Do you think they will be carving leopards on this one?”
“What about the book!” Borko interjected. He looked around the deserted apartment the boys had broken into. It was mostly a shambles of junk, covered in growth medium with mushrooms growing all around. The book had been in a sealed compartment at the top of the shelves. “I think we should get this book to that fellow Jerome, the one who claims to be from Earth. He is always asking about books and stuff.”
“And trying to quote from them,” Jadran laughed. “He says weird stuff.”
“But he is way off somewhere at the far end of this place, past the Fruit People, and even past the Goat People. Mother will never let us take this to him, but I do think he would like it. He and that Cammarry lady can get stuff made, anything they want. I bet we could get real bows and arrows made if we traded with him,” Dmitar argued. “But how do we get it to him?”
“Well,” Borko paused as his mind was working out a plan. “Mother said there was a group taking eggs to the Fruit People. That would take us part of the way there. We could go along. We are going to be eight years old in a few months, so that counts, right? When we get to that trading center, then we see if any of the Goat People, like ‘Uncle’ Khin, are there. He would trade fair.”
“Yes, our ‘uncle’! He talks as funny as Jerome.”
“Just in a different way,” Dmitar began to imitate Khin. “As my father says, a pain in the brain will drive anyone insane.”
Borko and Jadran laughed and laughed. Dmitar’s imitation of Khin was hilarious.
“But Khin would trade fair. Only we do not tell mother,” Borko said between chuckles, “about the book or she will turn it over to Dick and Fedders so it can be shared with everyone. We use it for trade for ourselves. Promise?”
The three brothers put their hands together, Borko holding the precious book in his other hand. As they gripped each other’s hand they said in unison, “It is a promise!”
The triplets trudged back through the dim corridors, avoiding the chickens which ran past on occasion. The meter-high birds tended to peck angrily at anyone or anything that was in their way, and the boys were thankful for the heavy covering on their legs. Passing the halls which led to the brooder, the boys snuck around until they made it to the apartment which had been opened up for them by the Chicken People. Nearly everyone the boys knew who was from Beta had an apartment in that corridor. The apartments had been cleaned of the growth medium, and supplied with beds, pillows of chicken feathers, blankets, and some basic supplies. Running water, just cold, worked in each of the apartments, as did the toilets and the overhead lighting. Cooking surfaces in the kitchens of most apartments worked, although that was more inconsistent.
“So there you are,” Alisa, their mother, called out as the triplets approached. Her short, straight black hair was parted on the side. Her facial features were similar to that of her triplets, but her complexion was lighter color. She smiled widely as she spoke. “I wondered if you would be back by supper. Did you finish the work?”
“Yes,” all three replied in unison.
“Did you go exploring again?” Her brown eyes twinkled as she looked over her sons. “I know this place has so many secrets to reveal, but I do want you to be careful.”
“We know,” again the boys responded in unison.
“Borko, you are hiding something,” Alisa said. “There is either an object in your pants, or you have a huge bruise on your thigh. I know these chickens here can strike hard, but those pants I cut for you have padding to prevent injuries. So what did you find?”
The boys looked at each other and their countenance dropped.
Alisa squatted down. “Boys, since we came to the needle ship I have worked hard to get us to fit in with these people and their ways. I know this is not like the village on the sea. Things are odd and strange here. There are good things too. No gravity sink holes. We have not seen a single crusher here, right?”
The boys nodded as they submitted to the embrace of their mother. She hugged them all pulling them close. “Nor have we been threatened by the crazy Ferryman and his ilk. So, if I ask what you found, it is not because I am trying to spoil your fun, or ruin some adventure you three have cooked up. It is because since your dad was killed by the crusher, I have had to look out for you all, and you have had to look out for me. We have done pretty well. You three will be powerful, brave, and generous men like your dad. You each look so much like him already, it is remarkable. Okyin would be so proud of you for getting me here where we are safe. You have done your dad proud!”
The boys stood there, mouths open. Their mother often heaped praise on them, so much so it sometimes felt like fawning, but seldom in the name of their dad. His death had been a horrific loss to them all.
“We found a book,” Borko said and pulled it from where he had unsuccessfully tried to hide it. “We thought we could trade it to that Jerome man and get some bows and arrows. The cavies here would be much easier to hunt with proper weapons and not just knives and spears.”
Alisa carefully took the book in her hands. “Well, let us look at it ourselves first. Come into the apartment and I will turn up the lights so we can read this wonderful find together.”
“But Dick says…” Dmitar began.
“I am the leader of this family, and I know what Fedders and Dick say about the lights. But this is reading, and those overstuffed chickens will just have to deal with a little more light, especially if they want to come and hang out around my doorstep. Right gentlemen?”
“Right mom!” the boys echoed.
“So what do you have? ‘Yellow Eyes’ by Rutherford G Montgomery,” Alisa said as she shut the door to the apartment and raised the lighting. She looked at the inside, “Published in 1937. A novel. Well, well, this is an interesting find. I think this was written something like a hundred years before the Great Event, if I recall the old calendar correctly. If you are going to take it to the trading event tomorrow, then we better get to reading it together tonight.”
The boys again looked at each other, this time in awe, smiles growing on their young faces.
The Colony Ship Conestoga : The Complete Series: All Eight Books Page 149