Your leader is the Learned One, he declared. There are four of you who are thinking beings, yet your leader is not. Why is this?
The Learned One is our heart and soul, Ice thought. We are only soldiers but he is our leader, our commander, fearless in battle, brilliant and daring, intellectually and morally superior to us all. As Ice said it, I was interpreting it into Inter for the Prof. It is because of you Brights that we four are thinking beings, Ice telepathed. Saka and I were killed on Galinta, and brought back to life by your soldiers. That somehow gave us the telepathic genes. Prophet had contact with one of your soldiers who was dying, on Galinta, and he was our first thinking being. The Black Angel was cured of terrible war wounds by your healers on Vezhedak, and she too became a thinking being.
If the Learned One is your leader, should he not also become a thinking being?
"Ice, tell him that is a logical conclusion," Prof said, "but we cannot do that ourselves." Ice did so, and Breakblade responded with a question.
Is it really so that of all humans, you four are the only thinking beings?
Yes, that is so, Ice replied. Some others have the ability to read thoughts from other humans, but normally not to transmit their own thoughts. Very few can look into the future. Yet all four of us have seen glimpses of the future – because of the gift your people gave us. Because of the dimensional changes in our brains. We call it DX thought, after Dimension X which is the name we gave to the extra dimension that is present in your universe.
It is also present in yours, but your species did not develop properly. Breakblade got up from his chair and walked over to where the Professor was seated. The Prof began to get up but Breakblade motioned him to remain seated. He turned the Prof's chair to face him. Then he cupped the Prof's head with his hands without touching him.
"Prof," Ice said, "he asks if you are certain you wish to accept this very heavy responsibility. Once done, it cannot be undone. And, once done, you will become a servant of God, doing His will at all times."
"I am willing."
He is willing.
Breakblade closed his eyes. In the name of God, he thought. Accept your rightful place in the universe, as a thinking being. Face the future as a servant of God, and do His will at all times.
The Prof cried out, as if in pain, but he sat there seemingly paralyzed with Breakblade's hands still cupped around his head.
See the future, and see the past, and see the truth. Read the mind of man. Follow the road of faith, and protect the innocent and fight all evil. Go forth now and from this day to the end of time be fearless in your quest. Banish fear and ignorance. Think nothing of yourself, but only of others. You are a holy instrument of God's will.
Breakblade slowly pulled his hands away from the Prof's head. It will take some time to develop, he thought. Be patient. There is no hurry. God has infinite time.
Δ
This is remarkably good, Breakblade telepathed. The Nan Man had passed him a cup of dox. By that time we were pretty relaxed, sipping dox from the few we had secreted in our ratpacks.
We have lots more on our ship, Saka telepathed back to him. If your people like it, we can begin interplanetary trade with dox. We have hundreds of varieties and tastes. As a matter of fact, this cold drink you've been serving us is wonderful. It's the best flavor I can imagine – kind of a mixture of sweet and sour. What is it called?
We call it calansi.
Calansi! We could trade dox for calansi. I know this stuff would go over well in Quaba.
You are serious about this desire to exchange delegates and establish embassies?
We are certainly serious. It will help to clear up any misunderstandings. It will build friendship.
We have been killing many of your people. We intend to continue doing that. Is that of no concern to you?
We approve of your actions against those subhuman bandits. They deserve death. We do the same when we can track them down.
You do not appear to be very skilled in tracking them down. Which brings us again to your visit here. How did you know we were here?
The Black Angel had a vision of our visit here. We identified the site, and came immediately.
Very clever. What misunderstandings do you fear?
Saka went to the Prof for guidance, then replied.
Your forces are freely traveling throughout our galaxy. We are worried about the reaction of some of the other human states. We wish to be able to communicate with you quickly in the event of any problem that arises. Each human state is independent of the others. We are not unified. If you have an embassy in the Confederation of Free Worlds, we can coordinate with you and with the other states to clear up any potential problem before it becomes serious.
And would you have a delegate in our universe?
No, that's not practical. But we can set it up in this universe, wherever you want. We would suggest this world, which we call Stormhaven. We have brought everything we need. We can leave a small group here to set up our new embassy in your base while we arrange for a larger group to come here later. But we must formally establish diplomatic relations first. We are willing to recognize your government, and are authorized to do so. But we will need approval and agreement from your government first.
Very funny, Breakblade telepathed. You have no idea how difficult it is to get our leaders to do anything new. Perhaps we can establish a kind of informal representation to cover the first twenty or thirty years of the relationship while our government is moving the proposal along.
We were kind of stunned by this revelation. Finally the Nan said, "Why, your government works just like ours!" Saka interpreted it into DX thought, and Breakblade smiled.
"Prophet, it's your turn," Prof said. "Let's find out why the B's are here."
The Learned One wishes to know why your forces have appeared in our universe, and in our galaxy, I telepathed. We gather that your previous visits were to counter the Demon incursions. We are grateful for that. Are you here now strictly to punish the pirates, or are there other reasons? Is there anything we can do to help? Ice was now doing the interpreting into Inter for the Prof.
The pirates represent an eternal obligation we have to fight evil. They wronged us and so we will kill them until none are left. However, they are not by themselves of any great importance. We are here for other reasons which cannot be revealed. Our presence here does not involve your civilization. It should be of no concern to you.
Your earlier presence here was to counter the Demons, I telepathed. Is that not so? May we ask why the Demons attacked our worlds? And why you attacked them?
Yes, you may. And I will answer you. The Demons broke an agreement we had reached with them. It is always best not to negotiate with evil. The agreement was that they would not make incursions into your ancient universe, and we would cease our efforts to exterminate their foul race. Long ago in history your galaxy was a bloody battleground in the eternal struggle between light and dark, between good and evil. We are pledged to God to defend the innocent and fight evil in all its forms. So when they appeared here again, we pursued them. They were seeking to avoid further conflict with us by fleeing into your universe. We did not attack them further in our universe, to show them that their retreat from your universe was all that we desired. And then you attacked them, on Kratar. That was wonderful – we could hardly believe you had done it. It was then that we truly recognized you as a gifted warrior race, fully worthy to stand by our side in battle. The Demons were shocked by your attack. At first they thought it was us. When they realized it was humans, they were astounded, then angered and ashamed. They thought you inferior, but you showed them it was they who were inferior.
The Learned One asks what happened to the female slaves that were held captive by the pirates at the bases that you raided, I telepathed. There were many of them and their families wish to know about their fate.
Breakblade stood up and smiled. Follow me, he telepathed.
It was only a short walk t
o our destination. The rain had stopped and the sky had lightened up into a bright day with a very pale sky scudded with grey clouds. The Bright's portable city was a wonder – a myriad of imaginatively constructed hard white structures linked together with little walking trails. As we passed one large building, we heard excited shouts from behind it and we headed that way. We approached a wide grassy field that was overrun with human girls, rushing around kicking a ball to and fro, screaming enthusiastically. The girls were clad in shorts and sleeveless tops. Most of them were on the field but others lined up around the edges, shouting encouragement. Many little Bright angels were evident in the crowd but they were not playing the game, just watching over the girls. Some of them were holding hands with their charges.
Meeting! Meeting for all girls, right now, Breakblade telepathed to the angels. All girls, to the great hall. Some of the girls had spotted us by then. They appeared startled.
We reconvened in a giant, airy meeting hall with a domed rotunda. The girls noisily took seats that were lined up facing a slightly elevated stage where we stood at a podium awaiting them. It looked to be over three hundred human girls, mostly teens. Breakblade was beside us but he motioned the Prof to address the girls.
"Good day," the Prof said. "My warname is Professor. We are Legion soldiers, from the Confederation of Free Worlds. Our mission here is to complete your liberation and to return you all to your families and your home worlds. We are very pleased to see you."
The Prof's statement was greeted with an icy silence. The girls stared at us as if hypnotized.
"We are happy to announce that you are now free, and we will be escorting you all to our starship later for the trip home to the Confederation of Free Worlds and later to your own home worlds, whatever they may be." The Prof smiled pleasantly.
Silence. One girl stood up, an Outworlder, ragged brown hair, glaring at the Professor. "And what if we don't want to go?" she asked, boldly. The audience erupted, clapping, cheering, shouting encouragement.
"Go to hell!" somebody shouted.
"Liars! Liars! Cheats and thieves!"
"We don’t need you! Go away!"
"Where were you when the slavers came? Where were you when we were all being gang-raped?"
"Burn in hell!"
"We don't believe you! We don't believe a single word!"
"Filthy male pigs! Get out of our hall!" A ball flew through the air towards us, followed by a loose hail of little missiles – cups, shoes, writing utensils, hitting the stage all around us. The Prof just stood there, speechless, astounded.
Bees and Ice strode up to the Prof, gently laid on their hands and led him away from the podium. Then they turned and faced the audience. Bees was boiling, I could tell. And Ice was furious – a murderous rage.
"Shut down, you filthy bitches!" Bees commanded. "How dare you speak that way to the Professor? Do you know who he is? Of course not, you ignorant fools! Do you know who this little man is whom you have just insulted? He is the leading killer of slavers in the galaxy! He is the most courageous, brilliant, fearless, loving leader I have ever known and I trust him with my life. He's fought for you and bled for you. You want to know where we were when you were being gang-raped by slavers? We were hunting down slavers, and killing them. That's where we were. The Professor personally led a raid that liberated his own daughter and many other captive girls. And we were with him. And you know what? He didn't even have to do that. He was going to buy back his own daughter – blood-free. That was the plan. But he knew he could not do that. We discovered there were other slave girls there, girls we did not even know. He decided they had to be freed as well. And he made us see it. We killed all the slavers, and liberated those girls, and returned them all to their families. And the Professor was almost killed doing it."
"Don't waste your breath on these selfish brats," Ice interrupted. "They don't even deserve to hear the story of what we have done to liberate slaves. We don’t owe them anything! We've come all this way and they insult us. Fine, stay here, bitches, if the Brights will have you. Our offer is voluntary. We're not forcing anyone to go anywhere."
Δ
We left the stage, and the Prof asked Breakblade to arrange a conference between us and whoever the girls looked to for leadership. Breakblade brought us to a little lounge room with several small tables. The Prof sat at one table between Bees and Ice, apparently thinking they might prove useful in communicating with the girls. The rest of us were in the background, seated at the other tables.
The first girl who had spoken up, the Outworlder with the ragged brown hair, came in with two companions, a blonde and an Assidic. She was evidently the leader, and they were her deputies. She stood before the Prof as he arose.
"I wish to apologize," she said. "If I offended you, I am sorry."
"It's quite all right, my dear, I understand perfectly how you must feel. Please be seated." They sat down.
"Would you like some dox?" the Prof asked. He slid three sealed dox cups over to them. They stared at the dox cups. The Prof reached over and popped each one open. The wonderful aroma flowed over them.
"Please," the Prof said.
They shakily brought the steaming brew to their lips and drank deeply, almost choking at times. And suddenly all three were crying silently. Tears, pouring down their cheeks, their shoulders shuddering. No talk, just tears.
"Welcome home," the Prof said. "We're going to take very good care of you. We know exactly what you've been through. Tell the rest of the girls that we offer liberation, freedom, and return to your mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers."
Never doubt the power of dox. It must have been like a narcotic to them, after so many years without. And it brought everything back to them, with a single whiff, with a single sip – the past. Home. Family. Peace. Salvation. An incredible lost dream, suddenly real, once again – courtesy of the ConFree Legion.
I was never prouder of being a soldier of the Legion than right then.
Δ
Sometime later the girl with the raggedy brown hair showed us around their building. Her name was Annie, but to me she was Raggedy Ann. I have this thing about naming people – I can’t help it. Anyway, Raggedy Ann and her two girlfriends showed the Prof and me and Ice and Nan the Man around their quarters. By that time, Breakblade had wandered off and we were mostly free to do what we wanted. A few Bright knights in lizard camfax kept track of us from a distance without interfering.
"This is our bedroom. Awesome, huh?" It was a giant hall, a dorm full of hundreds of neatly made up beds divided by low bureaus with little drawers where the girls could keep any personal possessions. "They offered us individual bedrooms but we decided we wanted to be together. We've been through a lot. Some of the girls start to panic if they are left alone. They built this place for us. We watched them build it. It was amazing."
"So they have treated you well?"
"Are you serious? After the slavers? We are pampered like spoiled brats. They are so good to us. Those angels – oh!"
The Assidic girl continued, as Raggedy Ann seemed at a loss for words. "They even make our beds for us. The food is wonderful. We can eat whenever we want. Some of the girls are turning into little piggies; the slavers had starved us. The Brights give us as much freedom as we can stand – as long as we don't disappear. But who would do that? This is Girl Paradise – this is Shangri-la. They've been so wonderful to us!" Then she started to choke up, and the blonde took over.
"The angels are so understanding. We were pretty much all psycho cases by the time the Brights dropped in and slaughtered the slavers. After we arrived here, they set the angels loose on us and they were wonderful. They can’t talk, but they held our hands and looked into our souls and cried with us and kissed us back to life. They were – angels, real angels. It's like being in Heaven."
"Good Lord!" The Prof was staring at a giant colorful holo image that covered almost a whole wall. It showed the result of the Bright raid on that Earther island – a whole
beach of dead slavers, sliced into little pieces by lasers, scattered over sand pooled with blood. "Do they force you to look at these images?"
"Oh no!" Raggedy Ann said. "That was our idea! They showed us those images of what they had done to the slavers and we liked them so much we had them enlarge the images and post them all over our quarters. We love those pix!"
The girls clustered around us as we strolled through Shangri-la. Their attitude had turned around one hundred and eighty degrees since Raggedy Ann briefed them on the real situation.
"Can I tell you something?" Raggedy Ann asked the Prof.
"Anything, my dear."
"Most of the girls want to go home. But some of them don't. Or can't. Because they don't have families, or homes. Or the situation has changed. And some of us have been changed so profoundly by our experiences with the slavers that our…our goals have changed. We can't just go home."
"What do you mean?"
"Oh, we'll all accompany you back to the Crista Cluster. We know we can't stay here. But some of us will not be going home. We'll be going…elsewhere."
"Where?"
"We're not sure. But our lives have changed. And our goals are clear. We never knew if we'd be leaving here, but we decided if we ever did get to return to the old world, we would band together to accomplish our goals. There are quite a few of us. We call ourselves the Sisters."
"So it's kind of a sorority?" They had paused by a patio that was open to the air. The weather had changed, the sky was clouding over and a light mist was flowing in from a nearby forest. It looked like the sun was fading.
"No. Not exactly. It's more like a blood pledge."
'What does that mean?"
"It means we cooperate, and stand together, and accomplish our goals, no matter how hard it may be."
"What are your goals?"
"Killing slavers."
"Killing slavers. I see. That's going to be hard to do. Without the proper training."
Prophet and the Blood March (Prophet of ConFree) Page 22