by Chris Reher
"It might, if we all started in the same place. I don't lose any sleep over any of this. It doesn't matter. I call us humanoids but here we're all lumped under "Class One" which just means sentient. Which, most comforting, puts us in a class with Rhuwacs."
"Can I leave here with you'n Ty?" Greah asked suddenly, as if that thought had not been foremost on his mind since meeting Nova.
"With us?" Nova shook her head. "No, we can't take civilians aboard unless it's Union business."
"Like planning to take Kira to the Outlands?"
She grimaced.
"There are exceptions," he smiled, satisfied.
"Go to sleep," Nova curled up close to the heated stone between them.
Greah watched her for a moment. His eyes traveled to the night sky and his narrow chest rose with a wistful sigh. Then he got up and wandered around their camp, searching the horizon. All was quiet; no one there.
Chapter Thirteen
Brightness. Sudden, brilliant brightness drove through his eyes and into his brain like a red hot skewer. It was not the light of day that poured through the opened door but the harsh glare of a diffused laser. The light dimmed momentarily when someone moved between it and the prisoner.
"Get up!" A booted foot crashed against ribs, not quite hard enough to fracture them. Tychon groaned and squeezed swollen lids shut against the light of their lamp. He had heard that voice before, somewhere. On Targon? He combed his memory for the owner of the voice, concentrating on that until the pain in his side ebbed a little. Yes, Targon. The pilot who'd known Nova. He drew a shaky breath, mildly pleased with the success of his exercise. The other guard was Centauri.
Rough hands pulled him up and he was dragged from his cell across the dark compound, once a small market square. He could make out walls and corners of stone buildings where lamps stabbed into the dark with cold beams of light. Rhuwac guards passed from flood-lit areas into night without hesitation, their sense of smell keener than their eyes.
Tychon craned his neck, knowing that the town's fortification wall lay just behind these buildings. He was probably looking at it right now. He turned to walk backwards for a few steps, disheartened by the number of Rhuwacs patrolling the grounds.
"Get along, Delphi," the Centauri snarled, gripping his elbow to turn him around. Tychon raised his arm to shrug the hand away. A moment later he was on the ground, a new pain blossoming in the back of his head.
"Son of a motherless Rhuwac," Fynn Bridger guffawed. "I thought the Delphi was gonna make a run for it, Akela." His boot connected sharply with Tychon's thigh. "That is for getting me stuck shipping a bunch of stinking Rhuwacs to Tor Ag and then wasting most of them. And don’t think I’ve forgotten about you putting your hands on Nova Whiteside. You can thank your stars that Pe Furface wants you kept alive."
Tychon was picked up again and manhandled into a large residential building where he soon stood before Tharron, his hands bound together in front of him as if he had the strength to raise them against the rebel leader.
Tharron was enthroned upon the raised floor of what used to be an eating alcove. It made a fine dais. His Chayko-skin covered chair was flanked by two Rhuwac guards and a brazier beside him was brewing some evil smelling drink. Tharron himself was dressed in loose leather trousers, his massive chest bare except for a diagonal leather belt studded with the teeth of his enemies, according to rumors. The whole arrangement was obviously meant to inspire fear and awe. Tychon thought it was ridiculous. He was faintly nauseated by the chair coverings. The shy, mute Chaykos had recently been declared sentient by the Union.
"Delphi" Tharron snarled. "I am in the mood to continue our conversation now that you have had time to think about your manners. Why are you on Shaddallam?"
Tychon considered the reply he had given to that question earlier. It had been the one that had earned him one of several beatings. He decided on a variation of it, as so often lately borrowing from Nova's more colorful vocabulary."Why the hell do you think we're here?"
The butt of a long gun slammed into his gut, dropping him to his knees. He wanted to vomit but, haven't been fed, did not. He allowed himself to descend deeper into the khamal that kept his pain and dread from distracting him.
Tharron laughed and took up the goblet from the brazier. "Looking for your firstborn, are you? Well, you found him. I finally have something that will free us all of the great oppression brought down on us by those cur Centauri and their Human pets!" He glared blearily around the room at his guards and officers, speaking to them. "We will be free to tend our fields and children without paying tribute to these interlopers. We shall throw off the yoke of their tyranny and break the chains that keep us in slavery. We shall be free!" Grandly, he drank from his cup.
Tychon looked at the men in the room. Their expressions were carefully guarded but he saw disgusted fascination on some of the faces, especially on Pe Khoja's and those of the two Centauri beside him. "You people believe that lunacy?" he asked conversationally. "He's read that somewhere, you know."
Tharron roared something that none here understood and heaved his cup at Tychon. It glanced sharply along the Delphian's cheek, opening a deep cut below his eye. Blood poured freely over his face.
"How do you like that, pretty boy?" Tharron growled. "Ah, but scars can be erased. Perhaps we should take off your hair. Huh?" He looked around for approval from his men. "Huh? And the scalp with it!"
Tychon ground his teeth.
"How did you know where to find me?" Tharron asked, furious over Comori's failure in coming up with a truth serum that would work properly on a Delphian.
Tychon shook his head; it neither lessened nor increased his headache.
"Who else knows?"
"No one," Tychon said. "This is just one place among dozens we're checking out."
"You lie." Tharron half-turned toward Pe Khoja. "We move in the morning."
No! Tychon thought. "Running away again, Tharron?" he said, desperate. Surely Nova would find the means to contact the other Vanguard teams that had come along to Shaddallam to help with the search. It would not be long before they’d discover this place and the presence of the rebels in the valley. "You're hidden quite well in this hole. I never would have expected your quarters down here if your goons hadn't made such a fuss."
"Does Carras know where you are? Is Targon mobilizing? Talk!"
Tychon squinted at the giant. "Targon who?"
A boot caught him in the small of his back, sending him sprawled at Tharron's feet.
"Enough!" Tharron shouted.
Tychon turned his head and saw that Bridger had been about to brain him with the stock of his gun. The Terran reluctantly lowered his weapon and retreated.
"It does not matter," Tharron declared. "I am tired of this. We move back to the city in the morning and then get off this rock." He motioned for someone to lift Tychon to his feet. "Some of my men are eager to dispose of you, Delphi. But there is something you can do for me."
"Your wish is my command," Tychon hissed, sounding not quite as sarcastic as he had intended.
"Whiteside," Tharron said. "She is not really dead, is she? Some of your Delphi wizardry back there, wasn't it? She'll probably try to find you."
Tychon did not reply.
Tharron's lips twisted into something like a smile. "I think I'll leave you here for her to find. You can give her a message from me. Actually, Pe Khoja thought of it and I think it's going to be fun for everyone. Wouldn't you like that? Comori!"
Tychon turned his head to see a figure separate from the shadows in the back of the room. The small man was neatly dressed and unarmed. He pushed his sleeve back to show Tychon the object on the palm of his hand.
Tychon's eyes widened. "No!"
"Do it fast before he drops dead like the other one," Tharron advised.
Two of Tharron's guards seized Tychon and led him from the room, struggling with a man who was fighting for his life and sanity. Comori had to sedate him before he could begin
his work.
* * *
The sun of Shaddallam had risen as quickly as it had set. Its red orb glared over the horizon, reaching across the flatlands in still weak beams of light broken only occasionally by the clumps of stunted trees that still held pockets of early morning fog.
The two travelers had broken their fast and their camp quickly, spurred by the cold as much as the desire to reach the edge of this desert. Nova moved sluggishly, bothered by a terrible nightmare that had tortured her for most of the night without ever presenting clear images.
"Tonight's rest will be more comfortable than this one was," Greah assured her. "On the day after that we'll reach Shad Laika."
They raced atop the sandrunner, aware that the land around them was changing. Nova was startled to find a deep valley in their path. The ground simply dropped, offering a view of moisture laden clouds below them. She saw forests and meadows, birds in the air and the silver ribbons of rivers. She looked back over her shoulder. The flatlands had not been the main feature of Shaddallam after all. Instead of reaching the end of a desert, they had come to the edge of a plateau.
"Who would have thought that a place like this exists on Shaddallam," she said. "It's beautiful!"
Greah's gaze took in the rich lowlands. "This is where I used to live," he said wistfully. "Before your enemy drove us away. They took our towns but left us to our plantations. I lived in the city of Shad Areen at the time. My house is now theirs." His voice broke on the last word.
She patted his thin shoulder, feeling awkward. Her eyes scanned the far horizon, looking for air traffic. "Over there," she said, shielding her eyes with her hand. "Planes. Mostly skimmers, I think, and some shrills."
"Yes, that's Shad Laika. Shad Areen is a ways back, by the lakes."
They began their descent into the valley. Soon Greah slid off the bird's back to jog ahead, finding pathways that the animal could negotiate. The small creature seemed tireless. Nova spotted his slight form now and again among the dense foliage. At times he paused and listened, then whistled softly. Twice he climbed a tree as nimbly as the monkey-like animals she saw more frequently now. Then he startled her by overtaking them when she had been certain that she had just seen his multi-jointed body slip through a stand of broadleaf ferns in front of her.
Nova closed her eyes and concentrated on Tychon's signal, ready to pull back should she touch him too firmly. The static evenness of their khamal had faded to nearly nothing. When she prodded, he responded with a startled flinch, then puzzlement. He would not answer.
Ty?
There was no reply.
"Greah!"
He appeared quickly, making a running jump at the bird. "We almost reached the edge of this forest," he reported, smiling at the trees above. "Then we cross the meadows and ford a river. We make our camp on the northern bank.”
"Ty's not answering," Nova interrupted.
"Is he dead?"
"No! Don't say that. I can still feel him." Her voice shook. "I know they've beaten him to make him talk. Now he's too hurt to even talk to me."
"Could he be sleeping?"
"I'd know that. No, Greah, he's sick or something."
Greah spurred the sandrunner on. "But not dead," he said.
As he had promised, they reached a treeless, marshy area where the runner was able to gain more speed in great, splashing strides. Without hesitation, it followed Greah's command to wade into the river. Once across, they continued on foot through the low marsh that ran along the river, then onto higher ground where they stopped to rest.
The dry morsels of food from their baggage almost made Nova wish for a hot tray of 'space slop'. Their meager supplies were nearly gone. Ishet had not taken her size into account when he had packed their provisions. Soon Nova would have to get used to eating the bitter succulents that supplemented Greah's diet.
"We're now in Shad Laika." Greah scratched a crude map into the dark soil near a tree. "The rebel base is not far." He pointed past her shoulder. "It was a town at one point though much of it is now ruined. Their planes are kept on the western side."
"We'll need one of those. How well is the town guarded?"
"Very."
"Then we should go in the dark, my vague little friend. Now."
"Now?"
She nodded. "It will be dark by the time we get there. If your picture there is to scale."
"What is your plan?"
"I have no plan. A plan is good only if you have an army to lead and no time to change plans if necessary. With luck I'll come up with something when I see the place."
"That's as good a plan as any. Perhaps Ty's been able to think of something."
"Right now he's not even thinking," Nova mumbled.
They mounted the runner that now headed west at Greah's urging. Nova huddled in her short robe, swathed against the growing chill of the evening as well as Shaddallam's annoying, innumerable insects. They followed the calm waterway in silence. Nova had almost begun to doze when the bird halted. Greah dropped to the ground and led it into a thicket of low bushes.
"Should be all right here," he announced, commanding the runner to settle. Nova climbed off and relieved the bird of their small store of supplies.
They set out at once in the direction of the ruined town, taking only their guns. Shaddallam's sun had gone down, leaving them to find their way in the moonless dark. Greah led her away from the river as the forest thinned out. A crude road, no more than an overgrown path, signaled nearby settlement. They kept to the underbrush, remaining hidden. Nova was startled when a high wall suddenly barred her way. She had been intent on the uneven ground before them.
They crept closer to the road where the gate loomed open and forbidding. She scanned the wall, looking for surveillance cameras. She saw only clumps of grass and moss growing between the rough stones.
She peered around the gate. Dimly, she made out the hulking shapes of houses and the winding streets between them. "You see anything?"
Greah shook his head. "Looks deserted. Maybe they're all in another part of the town."
"No. I can feel Ty close by. This seems a little odd, doesn't it? No lights, no sound." She looked up. "No planes! Greah, this is a rebel base. Why is no one coming or going?" She stepped over a few stone slabs partially buried where they had fallen from the wall. "This can't be a trap. They think I'm dead. Unless Ty told them differently."
Greah shook his head. "Such a trap for just one person? If they thought you were coming they'd just send some of their creatures to get you. Maybe they all left."
"Don't say that! I don't even have the means to get off this planet." She crept along the wall. "I'm afraid you're right, though. This place is dead. But they've left Ty. He must be awfully hurt. Maybe he'd dying, Greah!"
He patted her arm. "Nova..."
She shook her head impatiently. "Come on, Greenie, hold it together." She turned back to Greah. "I'll go for Ty. You check out if they've left anything flyable behind. A ground vehicle will do, too, for now. Try to find some food and clean water. We'll meet back here."
Greah nodded and disappeared at once. Nova was not sure if she had actually seen him move from the spot. He had simply faded into the darkness.
Feeling her way along the deserted town was a matter of stubbed toes and scraped hands in the deep Shaddallam night. Her brightest beacon was Tychon's mute signal. She searched for a cell or other enclosure that could be used as prison. Many of the structures here were in ruin, helped along by the carelessness of the looters that had taken the town from its rightful owners. The streets were littered with furnishings and building materials as well as garbage and excrement. Many of the small buildings' doorways had been smashed by those tired of stooping to gain access.
The source of the mental contact emitted from a low building, its door wide open, at the edge of an open plaza. She crept closer, listening for sounds in the dark. Hiding in the cover of a central fountain, she thought she heard a voice but whatever it was fell silent aga
in. She dashed across the open space and peered into the building. A lamp shone within, allowing her to see inside. It was a long hall, housing two rows of rough-hewn bunks and little else. She guessed it to have been a temporary shelter for Tharron's Rhuwacs. The stench gave that away.
"Ty!" Nova's relief was boundless. She holstered her gun and entered the building.
Tychon, without shirt or jacket, faced away from her, sitting on a bunk, and did not flinch when her call broke the silence of the dead town.
Nova hesitated. The skin of his back and arms was bruised in many places. His long hair hung unheeded over oozing wounds and, like much of him, was matted with dirt. Or blood.
"Ty?" Nova called again, coming closer to him.
He turned to watch her approach.
"What did they do to you?" she cried, seeing deep scratches across his chest. His lip was cut and one eye was nearly closed by a blood-encrusted bruise.
He smiled and perhaps that was the worst sight of all. He raised both hands which, trembling, held a pistol that, in the dim light, flashed a warning that it had been set to wide flash. Aimed at her now, it would kill him just as quickly.
* * *
"You see, Colonel Carras, this could quite likely mean a huge saving in Targon's operating costs. Why, your one-time investment will pay for itself within two years! After that, there are only the usual upkeep costs such as food and lodging. Imagine the vast amounts you now budget for wages! For that you can renovate, purchase new equipment, and finance research! Let's have a look at your current expenditures in terms of wages, shall we?"
"We shall not," Carras grumbled, dearly wanting to know how this salesman had wrangled his audience. "I'm afraid that we are not interested in replacing our support staff. It is a matter of security."
The slave trader had a ready answer. "Ah, but I have a sizable shipment of Cirulis Chaykos. Easily trained and absolutely incapable of comprehending our language system."
Carras sighed. "Mr. Deleo, I know what Chaykos are capable of. We use robotics for those functions."
Deleo was undaunted. He had gotten past Targon's screening system through chance and cunning; it had taken him nearly two months of persistent maneuvering to obtain an appointment with the Colonel. Here at last, he would not give up easily. "I see. Well, how about entertainment? You need females? I've got females!"