by Julian May
“He is harmless now. You may remove the net. Take him to a fresh reception room and clean him up so that I may treat his wounds. He’ll be most welcome in the capital.”
Rising, Creyn beckoned for a pair of soldiers to accompany him. All three of them made bloody footprints as they walked toward Aiken’s hiding place, slowed, and stopped.
“Come out,” Creyn said.
“Oh, well!” Aiken gave him a grin as he scrambled to his feet. He flourished his hat in a mock salute and bowed from the waist. Before he realized what was happening, Creyn bent down and snapped something around his neck.
Oh, Christ, Aiken thought. Not me, too!
You are a completely different breed of cat, Aiken Drum, and bound for more sophisticated amusements than your muscular friend.
Aiken craned his head to look into the wintry eyes far above him. The Tanu’s hair that had been so sleek and shining was clotted now with the blood of men who had died defending him, died unwillingly, from the sound of their hopeless screams, freed from the symbol and source of their bondage only at the moment that Stein’s blade severed their heads from their bodies.
“I suppose you can do what you like with us once you’ve put on these fewkin’ dog collars,” Aiken said bitterly, touching the thing about his own throat. It was warm. For one fraction of a second he felt a flash of pleasure born in his loins go racing along his nerves like lightning through wires before it exited his body through tingling fingers and toes.
What the hell!
Did you like that? It’s only a sample of what we can give you. But our greatest gift will be the fulfillment of your own potential, freeing you even as you serve us.
The way these poor sods served? Headless trunks piled limbs awash in blood?
Amusement. Your own torc is silver and not gray. As befits a latent metapsychic made operant. You’re going to enjoy the Pliocene very much, my lad.
“Well, I’ll be damned!” Aiken exclaimed aloud. Delight, Delight. DELIGHT! “How many of the functions am I strong in?”
Find out for yourself.
A built-in master control mechanism in the collar for you guys I presume.
What do you think?
Aiken gave a crooked grin. “Better than gray, less than gold. Tell you what. I’ll take it!” He folded his poncho carefully and stowed it back into his lumbar pouch. “What next, Chief?”
“We’ll let you wait in a fresh reception room for now. One with a more effective lock. In a few hours, you’ll be leaving for our capital city, Muriah. Don’t be apprehensive. Life here in Exile can be very pleasant.”
As long as I know who’s boss? Afirm.
The guards hustled Aiken Drum through a door. He called over his shoulder, “Have, one of your flunkies bring me a good stiff drink, will you, Chief? All this fighting raises a terrible thirst in a man.”
Creyn had to laugh. “It will be done.” Then the guards slammed the door and barred it.
CHAPTER FIVE
Amerie had heard the sounds of fighting in the corridor outside and pressed her ear to the boards of the locked door to confirm her suspicions. It had to be Stein or Felice. Could one of them have been driven insane by the shock of the translation? Or was there a good reason for the violent outburst?
She tore open her backpack and rummaged in the Smallholder Unit for the small plass envelope holding the cord-saw. Dragging one of the benches over to the window, she tucked her skirts into her rope belt and jumped up.
Cut halfway through the upper bars of the brass grille on the inside! Cut all of the way through the bottom bars, then lever the whole thing outward with the top of another bench after I smash it apart! I could unbraid the rug and make a rope out of the wool, but wait! The decamole bridge sections would work, two for a ladder and the third to cross over the area with those damn bear-dogs.
“Oh, Sister. What are you doing?”
She whirled around, hampered by both index fingers being engaged in the rings of the cord-saw. Tully and a burly guardian stood at the open door. The little interviewer’s tunic was covered with dark stains.
“Please come down, Sister. What a dreadfully reckless thing to think of! And all so unnecessary. Believe me, you are in no danger.”
Amerie locked eyes with him, then stepped down, resigned. The big guardian held out his hand for the saw and she gave it to him without a word. He-tucked it into one of the pockets of her pack and said, “I’ll carry this for you, Sister.”
Tully said, “We are having to expedite our usual interview program because of a most regrettable accident. So if you will accompany Shubash and me…”
“I heard sounds of fighting,” she said. “Who was hurt? Was it Felice?” She strode to the open door and looked out into the corridor. “Merciful God!”
Guardians had removed the dead and injured, and cleanup crews were sluicing the walls and floor with big buckets of water; but traces of mayhem were still sickeningly apparent.
“What have you done?” Amerie cried.
“The blood is that of our own people.” Tully was somber. “It was shed by your companion, Stein. He, by the way, is unhurt except for bruises. But five of our men are dead and seven others seriously injured.”
“Oh, Lord. How did it happen?”
“I’m sorry to say that Stein went berserk. It must have been a delayed reaction to the temporal translation. Passage through the time-portal sometimes triggers deeply buried psychic explosives. We try to protect both the travelers and ourselves by confining new arrivals to these reception rooms for a while during the recovery period, which is why your door was locked.”
“I’m sorry about your people,” she told him with sincere regret. “Steinie is, strange, but a dear man when you get to know him. What will happen to him now?”
Tully fingered his gray collar. “We who guard the gateway have our duty and at times it is a heavy one. Your friend has received treatment that should preclude another attack. He won’t be punished any more than a sick man is punished for his illness… Now, Sister, we must hurry you along to the next phase of our interview. The Lady Epone requires your assistance.”
They passed through the dreadful hallway and down the stairs to a small office on the other side of the barbican. Felice Landry was waiting alone, seated in an ordinary cushioned chair beside a table that held a metal sculpture all studded with jewels. The two men conducted Amerie inside and withdrew, closing the door.
“Felice! Stein has…”
“I know,” the athlete interrupted in a whisper. She put one gloved finger to her lips, then sat silent, holding her emerald-plumed leather helmet demurely in her lap. With her hair standing out from her head and her enormous brown eyes wide, she looked like a pretty child waiting to be forced onstage for some sinister theatrical performance.
The door opened and Epone glided in. Amerie stared at the immensely tall figure in astonishment.
“Another sentient race?” the nun blurted out. “Here?”
Epone inclined her majestic head. “I will explain it to you shortly, Sister. Everything will be clarified in good time. For now, I require your assistance in gaining the confidence of your young companion for a simple test of mental abilities.” She picked up a silver coronet from the table and approached Felice with it.
“No! No! I told you, I won’t let you!” the girl shrieked. “And if you try to force me, it won’t register. I know all about these rotten mind tricks!”
Epone appealed to Amerie. “Her fears are irrational. All of the newly arrived timefarers consent to the test for latent met-abilities. If we discover that you possess them, we have the technology to bring them up to operancy so that you and all of the community may enjoy their benefits.”
“You want to probe me,” Felice spat out.
“Certainly not. The test is a simple calibration.”
Amerie suggested, “Perhaps if you tested me first. I’m quite sure that my own MP latencies are minimal. But it would probably reassure Felice if she cou
ld see just what happens in the test.”
“An excellent idea,” Epone said, smiling.
Amerie took Felice’s hand and raised her from the chair. She could feel the trembling fingers even through the leather glove, but the emotion hidden in those unfathomable eyes was something much different from fear. The nun spoke soothingly. “Stand there, Felice. You can watch while I go through this, and then if the idea still distresses you, I’m sure this lady will respect your personal convictions.” She turned to Epone. “Won’t you?”
“I assure you, I mean you no harm,” the Tanu woman replied. “And as Felice has said, the test will not give proper results unless the subject cooperates. Please be seated, Sister.”
Amerie unfastened the pin that held her black veil, then slipped off the soft white wimple that had covered her hair. Epone set the silver coronet on the nun’s brown curls.
“First we will test the farsensing function. If you would. Sister, without speaking, attempt to tell me greetings.”
Amerie squeezed her eyes shut. One point of the coronet acquired a faint violet spark.
“Minus seven. Very weak. Now for the coercive faculty. Sister, exert all of your willpower upon me. Force me to close my eyes.”
Amerie glowered in concentration. Another point of the coronet grew a somewhat more intense bluish spark.
“Minus three. Stronger, but still far below the potentially useful range. Now let us test psychokinesis. Try very hard, Sister. Levitate yourself in your chair just one centimeter above the floor.”
The resultant rosy-gold spark was hardly visible and the chair stayed firmly on the flagstones.
“Ah, a pity. Minus eight. Relax now, Sister. In testing the creative function, we will ask you to spin an illusion for us. Close your eyes and visualize a common object, perhaps your shoe, suspended in midair before you. Will this object to appear before us. Try hard!”
A greenish spark like a miniature star. And, was it really there?, the faintest phantasm of a hiking boot.
“Do you see, Felice?” the Tanu exclaimed. “Plus three point five!”
Amerie’s eyes popped open and the illusion vanished. “Do you mean I actually did it?”
“The coronet artificially enhances your natural creativity, converting it from latent to operant. Unfortunately, your psychic potential in the faculty is so low as to be virtually useless, even with maximum gain.”
“It figures,” said the nun. “Veni creator spiritus. Don’t call me, I’ll call you.”
“There is one more test, for the MP function that is to us most important of all.” Epone manipulated the crystalline device, which had begun to flicker. When the glow in the jewels had steadied, she said, “Look into my eyes, Sister. Look beneath them, into my mind if you are able to. Can you perceive what is hidden there? Can you analyze it? Collate its scattered bits back to coherency? Heal its wounds and scars and voids of pain? Try. Try!”
Oh, poor one. You want to let me, don’t you? But… strong, too strong. Looking out at me beating on transparent walls so strong and now darkening. Black.
A red spark had flared for a brief moment, a microscopic nova. It dimmed to near invisibility. Epone sighed.
“Minus seven ultimate redact. I would have given much, but enough.” She removed the coronet and turned to Felice with a kindly expression. “Will you permit me to test you now, child?”
Felice whispered, “I can’t. Please don’t make me do it.”
“We can wait until later, in Finiah,” Epone said. “Very likely you are a normal human woman, as your friend is. But even for you, without metafaculties, we can offer a world of happiness and fulfillment. All women enjoy a privileged position in the Many-Colored-Land because so few pass through the time-portal. You will be cherished.”
Amerie paused in the act of restoring her headdress and said, “You should know from a study of our customs that some of our priests are consecrated virgins. I’m one. And Felice is not heterosexually oriented.”
Epone said, “That is a pity. But given time, you will adjust to the new status and be happy.”
Felice stepped forward and spoke very quietly. “Do you mean to tell us that women are sexually subservient to men here in Exile?”
Epone’s lips curved upward “What is subservience and what is fulfillment? It is feminine nature to be the vessel yearning to be ruled, to be the nurturer and sustainer, to spend the self in giving care to the beloved other. When that destiny is denied, there can only be a void, weeping rage… as I and so many other women of my race know only too well. We of the Tanu came here long ago from a galaxy at the farthest limits of Earth’s visibility, exiles driven forth because we refused to modify our lifestyle according to principles abhorrent to us. In many ways, this planet has been an ideal refuge. But its atmosphere fails to screen out certain particles that are detrimental to our reproductive capacity. Tanu women produce healthy children rarely and with great difficulty. Nevertheless we are vowed to racial survival. We prayed through the hopeless centuries and at length Mother Tana answered us.”
A dawning realization came to Amerie. Felice showed no emotion. The nun said, “All of the human women going through the time-gate have been sterilized.”
“By reversible salpingotomy,” said the serene exotic.
Amerie sprang to her feet. “Even if you undo it…”
“…the genetics are compatible. Our Ship, who brought us here (blessed be its memory), chose this galaxy and this world for the perfect compatibility of the germ plasm. It was expected that aeons would have to ensue before we achieved full reproductive potential, even using the native life-form you call ramapithicine as a nurturer of the zygote. But we live so very long! And we have such power! So we endured until the miracle occurred and the time-portal opened and began sending you to us. Sister, you and Felice are young and healthy. You will cooperate, as others of your sex have done, because the rewards are great and the punishments insupportable.”
“Fuck you!” said the nun.
Epone walked to the door. “The interview is at an end. You will both prepare for the caravan journey to Finiah. It is a beautiful city on the Proto-Rhine, near the site of your future Freiburg. Humans of goodwill live happily there, served by our good little ramas so that they are relieved of all drudgery. You will learn contentment, believe me.” She went out and softly closed the door.
Amerie turned to Felice. “The bastards! The rotten bastards!”
“Don’t worry, Amerie,” said the athlete. “She didn’t test me. That’s the important thing. I kept smearing pathetic whinings over my thoughts all of the time that she was near me, so if she could read me at all, she probably believes I’m nothing but a poor little leather gal.”
“What are you going to do? Try to escape?”
Felice’s dark eyes glowed and she laughed out loud. “More. I’m going to take ’em. The whole goddamned lot.”
CHAPTER SIX
There were benches under the trees of the walled compound, but Claude Majewski chose to sit on the pavement in the shade of the animal-pen partition where he could watch the living-fossil beasts and brood. He turned the carved Zakopane box over and over in his big hands.
A fine end to your frivolity, Old Man. Sold down the river in your one hundred and thirty-third year! And all because of a crazy whimsical gesture. Oh, you Polacks always were romantic fools!
Is that why you loved me, Black Girl?
The really humiliating aspect was that it had taken Claude so long to figure the thing out. Didn’t he welcome the first friendly contact, the attractive sitting room with the food (and the John), all nicely calculated to soothe the frightened old poop after the stress of translation? Wasn’t Tully genial and harmless, drawing him out and flattering him and dishing the cods wallop about the great life of peace and happiness they would all enjoy in Exile? (All right, Tully had overdone it just a little.) And the first sight of Epone had all but stupefied him, the unexpected presence of an exotic on Pliocene Earth numbi
ng his natural prudence while she measured him, found him wanting and dismissed him.
Even when the armed guards led him politely across the courtyard he had been docile as a lamb… until the last minute when they took away his pack, opened the gate, and pushed him into the people pen.
“Easy does it, traveler,” one guard had said. “You’ll get your pack back later if you behave yourself. Make trouble, and we have the means to subdue you. Try to escape and you join the bear-dogs for dinner.”
Claude had stood there with his mouth open until a sane-looking fellow prisoner in Alpine climbing kit came over and led him into the shade. After an hour or so, Claude’s pack was returned by a guard. Any equipment that might have aided in escape had been removed. He was told that the vitredur woodworking tools would be returned to him when he was “safe” in Finiah. After the first shock had passed off, Claude explored the people pen. It was actually a large and well-shaded yard with ornamental walls of pierced stonework more than three meters high, patrolled by guards. An indoor extension led to a fairly comfortable dormitory and a washroom. The compound held eight women and thirty-three men. Claude recognized most of them from having watched their early morning march through the auberge gardens to the Guderian cottage. They represented approximately one week’s bag of timefarers, with the missing ones presumed to have been sorted out by Epone’s test and shunted to some alternate destiny.
Claude soon discovered that the only one of his comrades from Group Green in the pen was Richard. He lay in an ominous sleep on one of the dormitory bunks. He would not awaken when the old man shook him by the shoulder.
“We’ve a few others like him,” said the Alpine climber. His face was long, weathered, and finely wrinkled with the indeterminate middle-aged look of decaying rejuvenation. He had humorous gray eyes and ash-coloured hair beneath his Tyrolean hat. “Some people just seem to drop out of it, poor devils. Still, they’re better off than the Lizzy who hanged herself day before yesterday. You lot today are the last of the week’s consignment. Tonight we’ll move out. Just be glad you haven’t had to stick it out here for six days like some of us.”