by Buzz Aldrin
Father and I both laughed; as long as I could remember, he had been willing to talk theory endlessly—and that was always when she got most practical.
“All right, let’s go. With luck Osepok will already be there to do the official representing, and we can just gawk.”
As we neared Palace Square, most of the crowd were freeborn Real People, who normally would have shoved us aside. But now they parted around us, and though they were outside to see what would happen, they didn’t seem very eager to get any closer. Already the arrival of the lander was changing life beyond recognition.
Aunt Priekahm had noticed, too. “You know, I think they don’t want any of us to be angry with them anymore. What a refreshing change.”
“I think so, too,” Father said, “but let’s not get our hopes too high just yet. It sounds very much like there was a revolution, and Nisu is now a republic. It also sounds like the Egalitarians won. And if you look at it one way, we would seem to be employees of the evil previous regime. So we might just find all we’ve done is gone from Slaves of the Real People to Enemies of the State.”
“Diehrenn, have you ever thought that your father might be a pessimist?”
“Constantly,” I said.
We came into the Palace Square itself, with the palace on our right and the temple to our left. The palace, I knew, had been the house that my parents and the other Nisuans had built for themselves, taken over by the Nim after he killed Kekox. Nowadays Seteposian children were told that we had built it in a single night under the magic compulsion of Rar, after he captured our souls with his powerful magic. I had never seen it, though that was often a dozen times in a day, without resenting our stolen birthright.
Now it was occurring to me that even though the Nisuans had come for us, that didn’t mean, necessarily, that we would be getting the palace back.
Our banter dropped away as we finally saw how huge the lander really was. The temple was two full stories with a roof tall enough to be a third story, and the burned-out hulk of the Rumaz towered a story over it. This was three times as tall as the Rumaz, at least. Its immense feet were settling very softly onto the hard ground. It seemed to drift for a moment in the light evening breeze, as if its whole bulk were all but weightless. The hooting and screeching stopped abruptly, and we heard a loud hiss; the lander sank onto its legs, compressing them, and settled firmly onto the ground.
Palace Square was almost empty—around its outer edge there was a crush of Seteposians, who probably wanted to see, but not that closely, and in the middle there was a small group of Nisuans. We hurried to join them. “Prirox!” I shouted, seeing him.
He turned. “Diehrenn. So, are you ready for the whole world to change?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact. Preferably for the better.”
Osepok was in the group, and Weruz as well, along with several other older Nisuans. It looked like it was about the older half of us. “The rest of the Nisuans are either in the nursery, or the Real People families that own them are keeping them for some reason or other,” Weruz explained. “And I can think of one or two who are probably just as frightened as the Seteposians. I think we probably have everyone who can speak Nisuan here, anyway.”
“Ha, look at the palace,” Father said. “This means getting down to business quickly.”
A group of about twenty-five Seteposians came from behind the palace at a dead run. They were the Nim’s personal guard, except for their leader—
“Set!” I said, in some shock.
Aunt Priekahm said, “Yes, of course. I’d say the old Nim is as sharp as ever. Well, bad luck and an ugly death to the lot of them.”
I must have looked shocked, for Father turned to me and said emphatically, “Now, no sentiment. Rar is going to try to storm the door on that lander as soon as it opens. He remembers what modern weapons can do, so his only hope is to try for surprise. He’s no fool. I’m sure right now he’s more afraid than he’s been in a long time. But there might be a chance, and he’s taking it. The only way to beat steam rifles—or whatever it is they carry nowadays—with spears is to not let the steam rifles get into action. So he’s going to try to get in before they even know they’re attacked. Mother Sea knows it worked once.”
“But Set—”
“Is up there because he’ll attack like a mad dog till they kill him or he wins,” Priekahm said. “And you of all people should know you can’t possibly talk him out of it. Before you get terribly sentimental about all of this, just remember that if Nim Rar and Set triumph, we stay slaves. I’m sorry your favorite Seteposian is in line to die, but if it would get me my freedom, I’d be delighted to kill him myself.”
I looked back at the lander, not wanting to hear more, hopelessly confused, my eyes filling with tears and my mind with no emotion I could name. From far above the ground—as high as the roof of the temple—a door opened, and a long flight of steps extended down to the ground. A Nisuan stepped onto the steps, his face obscured by a huge mask.
Set lunged forward out of the group of guards and hurled a spear with all his might at the figure. He shouted for his men to follow, and they all rushed toward the flight of steps that led up into the lander.
But the Nisuan, several bodylengths above Set, had plenty of time to see the spear coming. He stepped slightly to the side and slapped hard, and the spear thudded against the wall of the lander, then fell to the ground below.
The Palace Guard, with Set in the lead, had almost gained the foot of the stairs when the Nisuan in the huge mask turned to someone inside, who handed him a heavy object that looked like a cylinder with two protruding stubby bars. Grasping a bar in each hand, he pointed the cylinder down at Set, who was now rushing up the steps with the Nim’s guards behind him.
It made a strange whirring scream. Set’s body burst apart from his neck to his waist, spraying back onto the men behind him. What remained of him fell sideways off the ladder.
I breathed “no” just once. Then the small insectoid figure took one step forward and looked over the whole Palace Guard, which seemed to have frozen in their tracks. He pointed the cylinder again, this time to one side. Again it made the whirring scream, this time for much longer. The Nisuan swung it back and forth.
All the guards seemed to shriek and fall at once, clutching faces, chests, or bellies. Most lay still. A few still moved, but if they did, the Nisuan pointed the cylinder, it whirred briefly, a body would dance and flop on the ground spraying blood—and then they would lie still. In a few moments they were all dead, or near enough.
The whole thing had taken the time of a couple of long breaths. It took a little longer, perhaps one breath more, before the Seteposians began to scream and flee Palace Square.
Raising their hands above their heads, Father and Priekahm walked slowly toward the Nisuan lander. In a moment they were joined by Osepok, still walking proudly erect despite her enormous age.
I might not have followed, but then Weruz and Prirox raised their hands and walked forward, so I followed them with my hands up and then all of the Nisuans in the group did the same.
Now that the fighting was over, Nisuans, all wearing the same enormous masks, were coming down the steps swiftly. The one with the cylinder pushed the mask up off his face and looked around. There was something about the cool, calm way he looked around—He has never had a master, I said to myself. Then I noticed that he was of mixed parentage, so at least Father’s worry that we might all be executed for miscegenation seemed to be unfounded.
He was also strikingly handsome, but I’m not sure whether I noticed that then or a little later.
He gestured our way and called out in Nisuan, “Please do come closer.”
We all sped up a little to get closer to him; even those who didn’t understand Nisuan understood how warm and friendly his tone was.
As the first of us drew closer, he peered for a moment and then said, “You must be Captain Osepok Tarov, late of the Imperial Expedition to Setepos?”
“Never heard of her,” Osepok said dryly, and everyone in both groups laughed. “Yes, of course, I am. And allow me to present Zahmekoses and Priekahm, of the same expedition. I’m afraid our other survivor, Otuz Kimnabex, is not well enough to come out and greet you. And you are—”
“Thetakisus Gereg, assistant to the captain of Egalitarian Republic. As soon as our forces secure a perimeter here, we’ll introduce you to our captain and our political officer. A preliminary announcement, however—” He lifted a small black cube to his mouth, and suddenly his voice boomed across the square, louder than he could have shouted. “Political Officer Streeyeptin sends his greetings and announces that there will be a complete amnesty for every person of Nisuan descent, for any act in violation of the laws of the Republic committed up to this time, whether knowingly or not, including crimes against the Intrinsic Laws.”
There was a long pause. Then Thetakisus said, “Ah, it would be customary if you all said you accepted the amnesty.”
“I think that since our new friends are presumed rational, we will consider the amnesty accepted.” The voice that came from the doorway above was cool and dry, and sounded mildly amused. “We can always let them rescind it,” he added. A slender but very muscular Shulathian male emerged from the doorway and walked down the steps toward us. “And I would imagine that slaves have had little opportunity to pass their language on to their children, so probably most of them did not understand you. So though protocol has been served, and everyone has received amnesty, I’m afraid we can’t quite expect them to thank us for it just yet.” His words sounded carefully calculated to be friendly, but he seemed to put nothing behind them.
Thetakisus seemed a little embarrassed. “Political Officer Streeyeptin, may I present …” I thought it was amazing that he remembered all the names correctly.
“I am Streeyeptin,” he said, when Thetakisus had finished. “No family name, as I’m an orphan like Priekahm or Zahmekoses. Since you didn’t have political officers in your day, no doubt you are wondering what I do. I think explanations should wait until we’ve made you more comfortable.” He looked around. “Captain Osepok, would you be willing to translate something for me into the local language? We need to announce it to everyone, Nisuan and Seteposian, as soon as possible.”
“Certainly,” Osepok said. “But Diehrenn is our best scholar and she speaks Real-People without an accent.” She motioned me forward, and I nervously approached the Political Officer. I had already decided it was at least as frightening a title as Nim.
Father added, “She is my daughter, and Otuz’s.”
Streeyeptin nodded. “I know. Diehrenn is mentioned toward the end of your records, as they are stored in the main computer of Wahkopem Zomos.”
“Then, ah, you know—”
“A great deal. That was why we declared amnesty as soon as we landed. I didn’t want any foolishness about hiding past acts, let alone to have to arrest you for them.”
Father seemed to relax all at once.
Streeyeptin turned to me. His eyes ran over me once, not as if he were interested, but just to memorize and file my appearance for future reference. “So, you are a historic figure,” he said. “The first Nisuan born offworld. How very appropriate that you are a Hybrid! Many people at home will be pleased by that.” Not knowing what to say, I stayed silent. He held the message up to me. “Can you read it aloud?”
“I haven’t had much practice, but I’ll try,” I said, and took the page from him. It was easy enough, I realized with relief, as I turned it toward the lights from the lander. “‘Everyone of Nisuan descent is to be brought to this lander; no one is to harm any of them. Bring all Nisuans to the lander at once,’” I read, in Nisuan. “Ah, there’s no Real-People word for ‘lander’—why don’t I say ‘Palace Square,’ which is where your lander is sitting?”
“Excellent,” he said. “Thetakisus, set her up with a loudspeaker, take a party of the other assistants and a couple of ordinary spacers, arm everyone, and make the announcement all over town. Shoot only if provoked, but once they provoke you, make an example that will make them think twice. We want the Seteposians to understand that they want to do what we tell them, and they don’t want to do anything we disapprove of.”
“Yes, sir,” Thetakisus said. He turned and shouted orders to someone inside. At once four people ran down the steps to join him. Very formally, he said to them, “May I present Diehrenn? She will be acting as our translator tonight. Diehrenn, this is Assistant to the Astrogator Bepemm.” She was a tall female with a friendly smile. “This is Assistant to the Engineer Krurix.” He was a squat, muscular male, but he smiled just as nicely as Bepemm. “And this is Itenn and Sereterses, both ordinary spacers, or so their rank says.” The two smiled at that. Itenn was older, some gray showing in her fur, a Palathian with a huge crest; Sereterses was another mixed-race male (what was the word Streeyeptin had used? Hybrid, that was it), about my age.
I nodded to all of them, politely, having no idea what else I should do. If I did anything wrong, they didn’t let me know.
We walked across Palace Square, away from the lander, into the dark and the rain. I wasn’t quite sure where we were going or why. The shock of the massacre I had seen was beginning to settle in, along with one wonderful, burning feeling of joy: No more masters.
Even so I winced as I passed the massacred Palace Guard. In the dim light and at the distance from them, I had not seen the horrible gouges, big enough to stick the whole first joint of my thumb into them, dotting the bodies, nor that the ground had been sprayed with a fine mist of blood.
“The holes are made by the slugs exiting,” Krurix said. “They’re so small and go in so fast that you can’t see where they go in. The wounds happen when they burst out the other side and—”
“Krurix,” Bepemm said, “we don’t know much about the situation. It’s possible that Diehrenn has friends among the dead, maybe many friends.”
“But—”
“Bepemm was looking for a polite way to say ‘shut up,’ Krurix,” Thetakisus explained. “It may have been a mistake for her to try to be polite.”
Krurix sighed. “Probably. I’m sorry, Diehrenn. It was thoughtless of me.”
I wasn’t quite sure how to respond to being taken so seriously. It seemed wrong, somehow, that I was getting that much attention. “Some of them I knew very well,” I said, thinking of Set—how just the day before he and I had worked together when we found the probe, and of the years when he had been whatever protection I had.
It got darker as we reached the edge of the square, and I noticed the cool rain more as it made the clay mud slicker under my feet. I felt bad because I didn’t regret Set’s death more, I realized. Though I had often benefited from his protection, I had still been his slave, and that was the reason he had protected me. Sometimes he had interceded when I had been very afraid of what some Seteposian might do to me. But I had worked when I was too tired, borne pain and sickness, sweated in the heat and shivered in the cold, just so Set could have trivial pleasures and pointless baubles. I had done what he told me, and I had never told him no, because I could not, and because I was so afraid of being given to a worse master.
I felt a little strange about watching him die. But after twenty years with the best master that I could have hoped for—since I didn’t have to fear getting a crueler one anymore—all I could summon up for Set was the feeling that I hadn’t liked watching him torn in half. I liked that he was dead.
I suppose, if you’re a master, that’s about as much as you can expect from your slaves. It occurred to me, too, that many of us had bigger grudges against some Seteposians than I had against Set. I wondered whether these newly arrived Nisuans would let us get our hands on those killing cylinders. I hoped so; we were the ones who knew which Seteposians needed killing.
As I thought this, I walked, with my head down, into the dark at the edge of Palace Square. Away from the lander it was now full night, and the clouds had closed in, so th
at I looked at my feet, partly not to stumble, partly to sort out my feelings, and mainly to avoid thinking about walking in the streets of Real People Town with beings out of my parents’ stories.
5
WHEN WE WERE ALL standing at the edge of Palace Square, facing the street that led by the stone tower to the main gate in the inner, stone wall of the town, I felt Thetakisus’s hand on my shoulder. Softly, he said, “I’d like you to get used to the loudspeaker. Let’s get you a light so you can see what you’re reading.”
He took out a thin circlet of some material and fastened it around my forehead, getting it snug but not tight; then he pressed something on it and a beam of light stabbed out from the middle of my forehead, so that it pointed wherever I was looking. “Now,” he said, “you can see. Let’s equip you to talk.” He handed me the same small cube he had used when announcing our amnesty, whatever that was, and said, “Look at the surfaces. The side with the narrow slits is the one you talk into. When you want to be loud you just press down here, on this thing that sticks up. And the sound comes out of the round holes on the other side. Go ahead and try it.” He took it back from me for a moment, held down the thing that stuck up, and spoke into the narrow slits. “Like this.” His voice boomed across Palace Square.
He handed it back to me, and timidly I copied what he had done. “Like—?” I asked, and was so startled at how loud my voice had become that I almost dropped it.
I saw Krurix and Bepemm fighting smiles and felt ashamed. Thetakisus’s face was kind. He said, “Just let the amplifier make things louder; you won’t need to shout into it. Try again.”
“Like this?” I asked timidly, and this time my voice was loud but not overwhelming.
“Just like that. All right, now you read the text aloud, over and over, just like you and Streeyeptin agreed you would, into the amplifier, and we’ll walk with you through the city to protect you and maybe collect some refugees.”
The next part of the night came back to me in dreams for years afterwards. I quickly got used to what they were asking me to do, and after a few times through the short message I had my Real-People translation of it memorized, so I no longer needed the page. That left me free to look around me.