by Chris Reher
"Drink this."
She shook her head. Her test kit, along with her guns, communicator and other tools was in the belt that now likely graced the waist of a Caspian.
He laughed. "I'm not about to poison you. I assure you that our foodstuff is quite safe for Humans. I've not seen one fall dead because of it. This remedy will do much to restore you."
She reached for the vessel and drained it, not without much gagging. "It smell bad."
He helped her to her feet for which she was grateful even though she was a full head taller than he. "Our she-warrior is rude. Maybe I won't help, then."
Nova smiled weakly, sorry for her behavior and beginning to feel better. "You already have, old man."
He led her into a back room that was just as filled with vials and jars and the tools of his trade as was the rest of the store. He walked her toward a cot on which several stacks of books and scrolls competed for space with some sort of furry pet, possibly a rodent.
"You can sleep here in safety for a while." He pushed the clutter off the bed.
She sat down. "You find air car?"
He shook his head. "You are still going north?"
"Yes. Must. Enemy have..." she cleared her throat. "Enemy have my mate."
The much-wrinkled brow furrowed even more. "I cannot get an air car here. But I can try to find something to help you get there. It will be expensive."
"No matter." She reached into the neckline of her jacket and removed a long necklace. "Need supplies, too. This pays." She looked around the jumbled room and picked up a long metal prong, possibly some sort of eating utensil. Carefully, she used the tool to pry the Delphi sapphire from the back of Tychon's sigil. She bit her lip when she handed the crystal to the shop keeper.
The merchant held it to the light of the only lamp in the room. "This is the best I have seen in a long time."
Nova did not look at it again. "Take it," she grumbled. "Get guns, too." She closed her eyes. By the time that the little man had locked his doors and had gone on his errands she was already immersed in a deep, healing sleep. It was a dreamless rest, made possible by the grocer's potion.
She awoke as abruptly as she had fallen asleep. The darkness seemed to bring the walls around her closer with every breath she took. Adjusting her eyes to the gloom, Nova studied the many strange objects piled on shelves or hung from pegs in the walls and ceiling. A small movement in the bend of her knees startled her. It was the rodent, curled in a small fur ball, sharing Nova's warmth.
Nova sat up slowly, remembering her predicament. How long had she been asleep? Where was that old man? She looked to the door. Was he even now leading a rebel detail to her hiding place?
"You are such an idiot," she whispered to herself. What part of her training had allowed her to trust a stranger on a rebel planet? Not only had she practically told him who she was but she had also given him the Delphi sapphire that had adorned Tychon's sigil. No doubt he was long gone to savor his newfound wealth in another part of Shaddallam.
She crept to the door to listen for sounds within the dark shop. She made out the hunched shapes of his display bins in the gloom. Beyond those was the main door to the street. There were voices outside; someone was singing hoarsely. She sensed a passage to her left and carefully picked her way through piles of stacked boxes and baskets to what she hoped was a rear exit.
A series of muffled sounds caused her to flatten herself against the wall. She could discern more than one set of footsteps outside along with the creak of leather and a muffled clanking of chain. The door before her opened without a sound.
She darted forward and grasped the intruder to pin him against the wall beside the door.
"Terran! It is I, Ishet, the shopkeeper here. You guard my home well."
Nova looked over his head into the alley. "You alone?"
He pushed her hands aside. "I have your supplies." He bustled into the shop, drawing curtains and shutters before lighting a lamp. Nova looked through the bundle he had dropped.
"You had better put these clothes on. They are native to Bellac Tau but not so uncommon here. The food and guns are outside."
She nodded, examining the robe. "Stinks, too."
"You might be grateful for once!"
Nova looked up, startled. After a moment, she shrugged. "Forgive. I worried. And not understanding why you help."
He pushed her into the back room to change her clothes. "Why should I not help? This planet has not seen peace since Tharron landed here. Not all of us believe in his cause. Hurry up now."
Nova soon found herself dressed in a voluminous coarse robe, her hair covered by a dirty burnoose. Strangely, her legs remained bare. Her host snickered when he bent to adjust her foot coverings that were little more than leather rags lashed clumsily up to her shins.
"How can I walk so?" she complained although, once he had retied the thongs, she found that the skins felt lighter and allowed for more movement than her own boots.
Ishet led her into the alley behind his shop.
"What the hell is that?"
"Eh?" He turned at the sound of the strange language.
"That!" She gestured.
"Fastest sandrunner my brother would sell."
Disbelieving, Nova walked around the ungainly animal. Its two ostrich legs were longer than she was tall, each of its four knees as large as her head. The gray-feathered body, plumeless, sported two short wings that would never carry it in flight. Its bare neck was short. Large, intelligent eyes observed her over a rounded beak.
She turned to Ishet. "I am taking this?"
He chuckled. "It is taking you. I have also found a guide to accompany you." Ishet looked about the darkness of the alley. "Greah? Now where has that fellow gone to?" Ishet turned back to Nova. "There are no skimmers or shuttles here that do not belong to the rebel. This sandrunner is fast. It will bring you to Shad Laika within two or three days."
One could be halfway to Targon in three days, Nova thought but did not say aloud. "How long your days?"
Ishet seemed confused. "Why, as long as a day takes."
"About half of yours," a light, musical voice interjected.
"Whoah!" Nova sprang back from the bird. "What the...?"
"There you are, Greah. Sometimes I swear you're invisible." Ishet smiled at the small person that had appeared at the bird's feet.
"I've sat here all along," Greah replied, his laugh like the chime of a bell.
Nova gaped. "Who this child?"
Greah's head barely reached to the level of her elbow, his body as slender and unformed as that of a boy. Each arm and leg, like Ishet's and the bird's, had two joints. And, like them, he had no ears. The large head made him seem more juvenile than Ishet and his face was free of wrinkles.
"Child?" Ishet frowned. "Hardly. Greah has traveled farther on this planet than anyone I know. You will be safer riding in his company than alone."
"He look like our children at home."
Greah laughed, a pleasing sound that seemed to come easily to this creature. "We should go now. It will be light soon and we must have left town by then." He turned to the towering bird that had stood silently, unmoving. A tap on the muscled legs was sufficient to command the sandrunner to lower itself. A deep saddle, laden with packages, was strapped to its back. He took her bundle of clothes and added it to the baggage.
"I don't believe this." Nova climbed aboard, understanding now why her thick robe had seemed too short. In the simple stirrups her legs were tucked comfortably into its folds. Greah turned to Ishet and they conversed a while in their native tongue. Nova saw that the belt that crossed his bare chest secured a vicious long gun onto his back. Other than that, he wore only a brief kilt and, like Nova, clumsy footwear.
At last, Greah climbed onto the Runner in front of her saddle and bade the bird to rise.
Nova looked down onto her new friend. "Thank you, Ishet. I not forget your help."
"I wish you well." He fumbled through the pockets of his rob
e. "I forgot, there is much left from the sale of your stone." He handed her a heavy purse. "I was not cheated too badly."
Nova weighed the pouch in her hand, then tossed it back to Ishet. "You take. I have much wealth, not need more here. Buy bigger shop or get new broom. I not know how much is here."
Ishet smiled. "I have not paid Greah, as he wanted nothing. I shall give half to his woman."
Greah nodded. "Should cheer that one up tremendously." By tapping the leathery neck, he prodded the Runner to turn out of the alley.
"I wish you luck, Terran," Ishet waved after them. "Perhaps you will come back to tell me your name."
"Perhaps," she said, a little sad at the parting. "But I will tell my people of kindness you give. You not be forgotten."
* * *
The sandrunner moved at a terrific speed. Once they had cleared the outskirts of Shad Lengh, it ceased its uncomfortable, jouncing trot and reached with long legs into a full run to finally escape the cloying stench of the tanneries. Nova could hardly feel any motion as they seemed to glide over the uneven ground as steady as any air car. She suspected that the twice-jointed knees were the cause of the sandrunner's smooth gait.
The sun moved over the horizon to turn dawn into day. Featureless flatlands stretched ahead, broken only by a low ridge in the far distance. The Runner now seemed to be heading straight for that line of rocks. Nova hoped that it would mark the end of this desert. She saw a few caravans in the distance; no one else seemed to be willing to wander through these flatlands alone. She felt exposed.
Now that it was light Nova was able to see the small being slumped in front of her. His smooth skin was deeply tanned and he seemed to blend well into the dun tones of their barren surroundings. Startling yellow hair ringed the back of his head from temple to temple, leaving most of his skull bare. The fine strands curled where they met his shoulders. Looking closely, Nova discovered a pink, elongated aperture at the base of his skull. She thought it a strange place to develop an ear.
"How can I sleep when you stare at me?"
Nova flinched. "Huh? I wasn't... How can you sleep? You are supposed to steer this thing!"
Owl like, his head turned around on his scrawny shoulders. "He knows where he goes." He gave her an impish grin.
Nova was a little unsettled by the sight of his face where the back of his head should be. Understanding her discomfort, he swung a leg over the gently nodding head of the bird and sat sideways to face her. "I told him where we're going, you know," he explained earnestly.
"How come you know our language?"
"I learn fast!" he said nasally. "Actually, I had to work for your rebel friends for a while."
She regarded him curiously. "You're not from Shad Lengh, are you?"
"No. I been everywhere on Shaddallam and stay where I like. My home was Shad Laika before Tharron come. When Ishet told me of you I wanted to meet you, Star Traveler."
"One does not travel to stars. I am an Eagle pilot, though."
"What's an Eagle?" He savored the unfamiliar word.
"It's a plane. A small ship with a small crew. But powerful.”
"I seen them land at the rebel base."
"Those could not have been Eagles. What do you know of the rebel here?"
"They want to destroy the Union. There are a few bases on Shadallam. They have not been here for long. I been to them all, to see and to learn. Why d'you wanna see the one in Shad Laika? Nothing there of value."
"Oh yes, there is," she assured him. "I will tell you later, little one." Nova caught herself. "Sorry, that was probably rude. But you remind me of an elf or something."
"What's an elf?"
Nova felt a silent presence in the back of her mind like a hand gently touching her shoulder to get her attention. She concentrated on its source.
Ty?
He replied wordlessly. She could almost feel the pain he endured in maintaining their khamal. She sent him a mental image of their surroundings.
That's a sandrunner, no? Who's the kid?
Cute, isn't he? No kid, either. He's got information on the rebel here. Where are you?
Don't know. Did you contact the others?
No joy. Haven't been able to find a transmitter. Will you be all right?
Haven't killed me yet. They're avoiding any vital damage for some reason. Want to leave before they get serious.
Are you in a lot of pain?
Yes. This khamal is keeping my mind off the beatings or the beatings are keeping my mind off this pain in the head.
You're rambling. Nova sent him a gentle, reassuring touch that surprised her as much as it did him.
Do that when I'm around. He began to fade. Hurry up! Get me out of here!
Nova sighed, opening her eyes that she hadn't been aware of closing. Greah was staring at her intently, his pug nose nearly touching hers. She jerked back in surprise.
"Something wrong?"
She shook her head, then nodded. "I'll tell you later."
"I got time now," Greah said, moving his head to indicate the distance still before them.
Nova glanced into his serious little face, again reminded of storybook elves. Nothing hinted at his age which, she was certain, by far exceeded her own. Only the deadly weapon slung over his shoulder would seem out of place in a fairy tale.
Slowly, she began to speak, initially outlining her current situation. As the hours passed her life unfolded before him: The strife of the Union against the rebels, strange worlds that she had seen, people that she had met and never known long enough. She spoke of Tychon and his son and why they were here. The words continued to come and she left nothing out of the narration.
They had reached the long ridge of monolithic outcroppings when she at last fell silent. Greah had not spoken at all. His eyes had rarely left hers as he listened and learned, remembering all, judging nothing.
He was wordless even now when the sandrunner picked its way to a grove of low trees that more or less prospered in the lee of the rocks. The bird lowered itself to the ground and Nova groaned when her stiff legs refused to unbend after all these hours. She watched as Greah heat-blasted a large stone and unburdened the runner. Efficiently, he started to prepare a meal from the dried fruit and boiled dough Ishet had sent.
At last he looked up to squint at her. "You told me much, Nova, but you barely mention Tychon, that Major we're looking for. But he is important, no?" He did not wait for her to agree. "An important warrior, your commander, your traveling companion and yet you don't say much about him."
"So?"
"But you fear for his life more'n for your own."
"I do? How would you know?"
He laughed. "Because I listened to you all day long." He handed her a portion of food and leaned comfortably against the sandrunner. "I wanna listen more."
"I've told you my story," Nova said. She nibbled her food. "You people ever hear of spices?"
Greah rose and hunted around their campsite for a while. When he returned he showed her his find of velvety, succulent leaves. Nova imitated him when he showed her how to wrap the leaves around a morsel of dough, giving moisture to their preserved food. She succeeded making a bite-sized wad and tasted it.
"Ugh!" She spat. "You people are so weird!" She gave her herbs back to him, preferring the dry dough to the bitter taste imparted by the greenery.
Greah laughed, accepting her strangeness. "Tell me about the people on all those planets." His thin arm stretched to the sky.
She looked up at the stars. "There are a lot of them, aren't there? Not all of those stars have planets, mind you, but there are hundreds that we know of. We haven't even begun to travel to them. Someday, maybe, but not in our lifetime. We're stuck in this little part of our galaxy for now. Less than one planet in many thousands can be visited by people like you and me. Sometimes a few habitable planets are close enough together for trade and commercial traffic, like in Trans-Targon and Terra-Centauri. That is what the Union tries to encourage. It profits
through investment. Some day, your people can sell your leathers to any planet that wants them and ship them there with your own freighters. Until then, outside traders or Union shipping companies do that for you. We sometimes call that Single Reach Commerce. Shipping costs increase with every jump you make." Her eyes continued to search the overhead patterns. "It takes three jumps to get here from Targon if you use the stable sites. You can make it in one, but that takes a huge amount of energy and a very good spanner. And a keyhole, of course. If you don’t have even the tiniest of anomalies to breach, you couldn’t get to a place even if it was the system next door.”
“Is that how you got here? Through a keyhole?”
“No, there isn’t one that leads here. At least not one that we’ve been able to find. We had to come the long way.”
"I know that a long time ago my people thought that your people came from the gods. But you didn't look like our gods."
"Well, we're supposed to leave planets like yours alone and let them evolve for a few more generations. 'Course, Tharron isn't up to date on our policies. Then you've got private traders that think nothing of going wherever they want to make profit. With all her good intentions, the Union is the last outsider to get here." She looked up again. "So you see, there aren't many 'stars' for us to travel to."
He snickered. "And meanwhile you fight over those that you can reach."
"Yeah, we do. We're a vicious breed." She picked at the dry lumps of food in her hand.
"I suppose wars are bound to happen when everyone's so different."
"Wars happen because we are the same."
"The same!"
She nodded. "Sure, we breathe the same air, eat the same food, mostly, and water is water everywhere. Of course, some of us have adapted to the conditions on our native planets. There are some differences like between you and me or Ty and me or," she looked around. "Or that sandrunner and an ostrich. Compared to what people imagined and what could have been, your four knees or my ears don't make for much diversity. I don't know why we all evolved more or less the same. I don't think anyone knows."
"That would speak against evolution, wouldn't it?" Greah said thoughtfully. "If evolution had its way, we wouldn't all look the same."