by Jacey Jenson
Too soon, Cheala decided it was time to resume their exercises. Resigned, Gary again faced Juan. Over and over, he went through the intricate maneuvers necessary to future survival, learning to thrust, parry, jab. Gary caught Juan's blade with his, shoved him back, then followed with an awkward jab that Juan easily parried. Perspiration beaded Gary's forehead, dripped into his eyes. He stepped back, wiped his eyes and forehead on the back of his left hand. As he stepped forward, he heard a startled shout, then a shrill scream behind him.
Gary whirled around, and caught his breath. Ten-year-old Wade Marshall had fallen into his partner, knocking them both to the ground. As his partner struggled to wiggle out from under Wade, Wade screamed again. Blood pooled in the sand beneath the boys.
“Madre de Dios,” whispered Juan from Gary's side.
Gary stood frozen. He watched Lady Cheala call a halt to the exercises, and kneel at Wade's side. None too gently, she rolled him over, freeing his partner. Something in Gary's chest lurched. The blade had slipped between Wade's ribs, and sliced several inches to one side as it buried in Wade's chest. Judging by the blood slowly running down the side of Wade's mouth, the knife had pierced his lungs. Wade's sobbing moans brought tears to Gary's eyes, as Cheala examined the wound. Even from a distance, Gary could see that Wade could not survive without treatment he would not receive.
An expression of mild annoyance on her face, Lady Cheala shook her head at the boy. "You should have been more careful." So saying, she jerked the knife from his ribs, frowned at his gasping scream, then calmly cut his throat. Shocked murmurs coursed through the watching slaves. Standing slowly, Cheala surveyed the group of Terrans. "You may resume."
Fear, stark and vivid, spread through Gary. He glanced at the numb faces of his friends and fellow slaves, blinked as his gaze settled on the sentinel closest to him. She stood facing the Terrans, her weapon aimed and ready should any of them break the training of years. It is death to strike a woman, the First Commandment of the Vadagz Code repeated through Gary's mind.
"You will resume training," said Cheala, when no one moved. "Now!"
Gary felt the eyes of the vadagz turn to him, awaiting his response. For a moment, he considered giving them a nod, allowing them to take revenge, no matter the cost. Then sanity returned, shaking him to his deepest being. He turned back to Juan, and assumed guard position. He avoided the gaze of the others, as they followed his example.
After a short time, he scanned the arena, surreptitiously watching the slaves as they continued training. At least they are being more careful, he noticed. He wished he dared use the knife he held on Cheala. Distracted by vengeful thoughts, Gary slipped. His right foot flew out from under him; he fell toward Juan. Juan twisted away. His quick action kept Gary from sharing Wade's fate. Juan stepped back to give Gary a chance to regain his footing.
"Dios, Gary, be careful," Juan muttered, after glancing around to locate the Ladies.
Gary nodded, and wiped the grimy sweat off his brow with his left forearm. He wasn't surprised to see his hands trembling. "Sorry. I was just thinking that now I have a good reason to learn this choit." Juan shot him a sharp look, but said nothing. "Someday," said Gary, "I'm going to use it on some of them."
"You won't live that long, if you're not more careful." Juan dropped into offensive position. "Lady coming," he mumbled. Silent, they continued the exhausting exercises.
Try as he did, Gary was unable to give his full attention to the training. Again, the words in his med-file came to him. Statistics indicate extermination after five years. They’re going to kill me, he remembered. His smoldering anger flared into burning rage.
For the first time, Gary didn't try to smother it, put it out. Carefully, he banked the fire of his anger, feeding it slowly, yet controlling it completely. I need to learn this, after all, he thought. I’m going to take some of them with me. Determination glittered in his metal blue eyes. He listened closely, willing himself to learn well the skills he now planned to use to his own purpose. I won’t go alone, he thought. Not alone!
Chapter 5
Ricky sighed and shook his head at the computer screen before him. He darted a glance at the open door leading to the command center of the Midnight Queen. Occasionally, he heard murmured voices in the room beyond, but now, all he could hear were beeps, blurps, and hums from the guidance system. He looked back at the screen and cursed Jeff under his breath. How could Jeff understand the mathematical equations?
Will I ever learn this? he asked himself. Groaning, he keyed in a request for explanation. Since coming aboard the starship, he and Jeff had spent most of every day studying at the screens. And still, they didn't know why they were there. Ricky clucked his tongue, chewed his lip. Maybe, if the equation were printed out geometrically, he could understand it. His fingers moved slowly over the multi-colored keyboard, searching for the symbols he needed. A grid formed on the screen, then layer after layer of various geometric shapes covered the screen.
Trihe choit, I’ll never get this! he thought, wishing he, also, had been dismissed to get some rest. He squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them and blinked several times. He sat up straighter in his acceleration chair and stretched to ease his stiff neck and shoulders. Why do I have to learn this stuff, anyway? Wait a minute, if I superimpose the images . . ., he thought.
Disgusted with himself for the time it took him to locate the keys he needed, Ricky asked the computer a question, then settled back, relieved that he had finally begun to understand. From that point, it took him very little time to finish the day's study assignment. After clearing the screen, he stood up and clutched the edge of the table when he over-compensated for the small amount of gravity on board. He wished Mistress Madira would order the ship back to the launch yard. He shook his head. At least now I can get some rest, he thought, and moved to the door.
In the command chair, Mistress Madira faced away from Ricky, talking to Savant Vayan, the ship's science officer. Ricky held himself motionless, eavesdropped as he heard his name mentioned. " . . . planet bounders should have made him shenili," Madira was saying. Ricky blanched.
Savant Vayan murmured an agreement, then said, "It would have been a shame to train him here, if he had been, Mistress."
"I suppose so." Madira bent to read the coordinates on the navigation console. "With so many dying of the surgery, I would hesitate to use him, were he shenili."
I almost was shenili, Ricky thought, grateful he had been allergic to the anesthetic they used. He had come close to dying. The Healer had decided not to risk the surgery. Not that she minded killing him, Ricky knew, but she had a high success rate compared with the other Healers, and she didn't want to risk damaging her own record.
"Still, he would be more interesting, if he were." Madira glanced up at Vayan, changed the direction of their discussion. "Will they be able to learn to navigate and pilot the ship?"
Ricky fought to keep his gasp inaudible. Navigate and pilot the starship?
"I think so. They're learning much faster than I expected them to." She was silent for a moment. "I don't understand how you intend to force them to cooperate, though. Sooner or later, they will learn that they are to die."
Madira laughed. Ricky shivered at the cruelty she injected into her voice. "That will be no problem. They both love the same vadagza. If they will not cooperate, I'll kill the girl. Slowly, painfully. And, I'll make them watch her die."
Savant Vayan shook her head. "They don't have the same feelings iseeda have, Mistress."
"I was careful to obtain all the information available on them, Savant. Warder Brezlah assured me that they would die to protect the girl." She rubbed her palms together. "At any grid, we will soon know."
Behind her, Ricky turned to re-enter the science section. He didn't want to hear more. We’re going to die? he thought wildly. And if we refuse to follow instructions, they’ll kill Maggie!
Wanting only to get out before they caught him listening, Ricky forgot the decreased gravi
ty. He moved too fast. Unable to stop himself, he sailed into the bulkhead. He crashed, caught hold of the anchor rail on the wall, then looked back to see Madira on her feet, standing next to Vayan. Both women glared at him.
"Hold, vadagz." Anger glittered in Madira's eyes.
Fear rose in Ricky like gorge in his throat. Slowly, he stood straight and faced her anger. She walked to him, caught his ear in her hand. She twisted it painfully. "What did you hear?"
"Nothing," he stammered. "Nothing." He could see in her eyes that she didn't believe him.
Madira studied him silently, and smiled a mocking smile. "Then I shall tell you what you wanted to hear." Her voice hard, her gaze glued to his face, she told him of the war Thali was engaged in. She told him of the alien bases he and Jeff were to destroy in the small ships they were being trained to pilot. She told him they would die in the attack. She told him what she knew of Maggie, what she planned to do to the Terran girl should he or Jeff refuse to do as ordered. She told him all he wanted to know, and more. Then, as he reeled under her verbal assault, she ordered Savant Vayan to have him beaten.
Vayan called two of the ship's Guard to the command center. In shock, Ricky didn't move when ordered to go to the Security Station. The Thali guards each took hold of one of his arms, dragged him to the lift, then out again when the door opened. Inside the Security Station, he stared at them without seeing them. They chained him to the bulkhead.
They’re going to kill Maggie! He thought. We can’t let them do that! He shook his head, tried to clear the swirling thought away. Tears filled his eyes before the first blow landed on his unprotected back. How can we stop them?
Ricky held his arms rigid across his stomach, his elbows pressed close to his sides. His footsteps echoed as he followed the curving corridor. He blinked pain-glazed eyes, and tried to remember which cabin was his. He staggered. When his shoulder connected with the bulkhead on his right, he gasped, then moaned. Dizzily, he leaned against the smooth white wall, swallowed weakly, and pushed himself upright. He took a deep breath. The torn flesh of his back and shoulders sent sharp, agonizing darts of pain through his entire body.
Finally, he found the door to the cabin he and Jeff shared. He leaned his forehead on the cool metal door, unable to remember the open code. Afraid he would pass out in the corridor, he kicked the door several times. When it slid open, he fell inside. Jeff caught him, before he hit the deck. He felt himself half-dragged, half-carried to his bunk, where Jeff helped him sit down.
"Trihe choit! What happened to you?" Jeff's voice sounded as shaken as Ricky felt.
"I overheard something I shouldn't have," muttered Ricky. He swallowed to keep his stomach where it belonged. He looked up, saw the worry in Jeff's eyes.
"I hope it was worth it," said Jeff. "Turn around, let me see how bad it is."
Teeth gritted against the pain, Ricky slowly twisted, lay belly down on his bunk. Moans ground out of him. Perspiration broke out on his forehead. "It's not too bad," he said, gritting his teeth.
Jeff's answer was an unbelieving grunt. Hands gentle, he pulled the slashed fabric from the cuts crisscrossing Ricky's back.
Ricky groaned, and cursed everything and everyone indiscriminately. "Be careful, Jeff," he said, a moment later, his voice rasping in his ears. He heard Jeff walk into the sancube, then return. Something cool and wet dribbled onto his back, easing the pain.
“This is going to hurt," warned Jeff.
A shuddering groan gripped Ricky as Jeff began to clean blood from the edges of the shallow wounds. Ricky didn't believe anything could hurt worse, until Jeff started to clean the cuts, gently pulling the cloth through the torn flesh. He jerked under Jeff's hands, shouted in agony. His vision misted, then darkened. Hands clutching the thin blanket beneath him, mind spinning, he fell into empty darkness.
Ricky opened his eyes. Jeff's face loomed large in front of him, a pinched look of concern in his eyes. "What happened?" Ricky asked.
"You passed out." Jeff took a deep breath. "Feel any better?"
“A little," lied Ricky. He knew Jeff didn't believe him. "How bad is it?"
"You've had worse. It's going to hurt for a few days, but you'll be alright." Jeff leaned back on his heels. "What did you do?"
"I heard Mistress Madira talking about why she's training us."
"Why?"
Ricky shifted uncomfortably, then wished he hadn't as waves of pain swept over him. He put his hand on Jeff's shoulder, gingerly levered himself to a sitting position. Teeth clenched, he restrained a groan. He thought of Maggie, and pushed her image out of his mind. "Did you ever see any old war movies back home?" he asked Jeff.
Puzzlement shown in Jeff's eyes. "Sure, lots of them."
"World War II movies?"
"Uh huh. Why?"
"The Japanese had kamikaze pilots, remember?"
"I remember. What's that got to do with anything?"
"The Thali," said Ricky, his head hanging wearily, unable to stop thinking of Maggie, "got themselves into a war against some reptilian aliens. They're training us to pilot and navigate attack ships. We're going to be kamikaze pilots." Ricky glanced up, saw startled disbelief on Jeff's face. "We'll be learning how to fly on the Midnight Queen. The navigation and guidance systems are the same as those on the attack ships."
Jeff was silent for a few minutes. "What happens if we learn what they teach, then take off in the other direction, when we get in the attack ships?"
"We'll be in short range ships," said Ricky, hatred in his voice. "They'll be rigged to blow up, if they decide we're trying to get away. One way or the other, we're dead."
"Choit," whispered Jeff.
Ricky felt tears gather in his eyes again. "That's not the worst of it." He avoided Jeff's stunned gaze. "They know about Maggie, Jeff. They're going to kill her, if we don't do as they say." He heard Jeff catch his breath. Then, he heard Jeff chuckle. Ricky looked up, anger blazing in his eyes. "It's not funny, Jeff."
"No, it's not," said Jeff, "but . . .." He laughed out loud. ". . . put it with what I heard this morning, and it is."
"What?"
Jeff grinned. "Mistress Madira was telling one of the crew that before we ship out to the battle zone, we'll be going planet-side for crew leave and ship maintenance. Of course, I didn't know what she meant by battle zone, but . . ..” He stopped, his grin filling his homely face. "Suppose we get Maggie and the others, and steal the ship. We could go home!"
Home! Ricky stared at Jeff with his mouth open. "You don't really think we could do it, do you?"
Jeff stood up, paced the small room. "What difference does it make? At least then, we'll die trying to live."
Plans, tenuous at best, began to roil in Ricky's mind. We could go home! He thought of Madira. Ricky stood up, forgetting his pain. He took hold of the hand Jeff stretched toward him. Clasping fingers, they shoved their twined hands into the air. "Home," said Ricky. "We're going home!”
******
Six nine-days passed. Gary seldom had time to wonder about Jeff and Ricky. His nights were spent providing entertainment to those Ladies willing to pay Delai's exorbitant fees. His days were filled learning to fight with knives, short swords, and spears. He fervently wished Cheala would teach him to use laser pistols, too, but knew that for purposes of the arena, the Ladies preferred bloodier, more gruesome sport. To say nothing of the inherent danger of laser armed slaves. The thought of the damage he could do with a laser brought a smirk to Gary's mouth.
"Shenili!"
Gary jumped. He snapped around to face Lady Cheala. "My lady?" he managed to stammer.
"Report to the Keeper." Cheala walked away.
Gary stared after her. His face showed no sign of the odd sensation tunneling through his spine. A sensation Gary had come to associate with fear. Licking his suddenly dry lips, he checked in his sword, and left the arena. Gary wove through the throng on the crowded, cobbled walkway, careful not to touch the milling Thali women.
Did they find D
enny Joe? Terror twisted in his thoughts, until, unable to bear his chaotic fears, he pushed everything into a far corner, and blanked his mind. He managed to keep his thoughts at bay, until he reached the Office door. His Adam’s apple bobbed in a nervous swallow, as he knocked on the door. Abruptly, the door opened. A Thali woman Gary didn't know motioned him inside. A jade green apprentice warder's band circled her forehead, confined her shoulder length auburn hair. Gary stepped past her, his gaze seeking Keeper Delai.
Delai sat behind her fruitwood desk, her dark eyes narrow as she studied him. Tense, uncertain what to expect, more than half afraid Delai had somehow learned of his growing anger, or of his vague plans, Gary lowered his face. He traced the pattern in the ancient carpet visually while waiting for her to speak.
Delai cleared her throat, shuffled through the files in her hands. She located the one she searched for, then looked up. "You are Gary Stetson, vadagz?"
"Yes, my lady," he said wryly. As the only shenili in the compound, Gary knew Delai knew exactly who he was.
The Keeper frowned at his tone. "We have something for you."
She nodded to the apprentice warder. Gary watched from the corner of his eye, while the Thali woman took a large box from one of the shelves lining the north wall. As she carried the box to Delai's desk, Gary looked at her more closely. She was almost as tall as he, her slender figure making her seem taller than she was. Neither too large, nor to small, her firm, full breasts caught his attention. He stopped the appreciative smile struggling to form on his lips. Startled, when his gaze finally rested on her face, he blinked. High cheekbones, and a softly pointed chin made her heart-shaped face delicate, beautiful. Wide set, jade-spoked eyes returned his gaze calmly, yet Gary thought he caught a glimpse of despair within them. After placing the box on the desk, she stepped back, avoiding Gary's gaze.
"Open it, vadagz," said Delai.
Gary darted a glance at Keeper Delai, then lifted the box lid with suddenly trembling hands. Inside, he found a black leather tunic with matching pants, two metal-spiked leather wrist bands, a belt of metal chain, and a pair of black leather boots. Bewildered, yet unwilling to speak without permission, he waited for Keeper Delai to speak.