by LeRoy Clary
They might not like the idea at first, but she would insist. She was the captain. They either obeyed or remained on Roma. Her thoughts turned to Kat again.
The girl was an empath for certain. Her powers were raw and minimal. How she’d managed to escape the notice of local authorities was a subject they needed to discuss. The girl had no idea that there were people out there who could detect her mental intrusions and report her.
An illicit book she owned said a good, effective empath worked in another’s mind as gently as a wisteria butterfly flying past a newly opened paper lily, the wing of the butterfly almost, but not quite touching the flower. The girl needed to learn how to do that.
The captain reviewed what little she knew about empaths, which was more than most people because she was anti-empath and she had gathered a small library of printed books and scrolls to better understand herself. No empath could enter her mind. Well, they could, but she would instantly detect it and put up a mental blocking wall.
In the arena, she’d known Kat had reached out to her, and that she wanted the gladiator to move to her right, which was counter-intuitive for a fighter. Instead of blocking Kat, she’d welcomed her help.
Three grav-sleds appeared over the tops of the trees heading in their direction. Probably equipped with infra-red detectors looking for body heat.
Bert reacted to their presence by pulling to a sudden stop. It assessed the situation as its ears twitched.
She liked that. Blind panic assured they would be captured. Bert motioned to those behind him to make a sharp turn. He headed directly into the back streets of the city via a wide trail through the forest. The grav-sleds were sweeping back and forth in their search grids.
While in the forest, the heat detectors would sense them in minutes, or soon after the grav-sleds began their search. Bert took them to the back alleys and into a crowded square where aging vendors sold their wares, most of them used and of mediocre quality. Shoppers strolled through the offerings.
Without pausing, he went directly to a stall draped in red and white, where a dour gray man said, “Hello, Bert.”
“No time for talk. The three humans with me need old, well-worn priest’s robes. Blue, if you have them.”
The vendor didn’t hesitate or ask questions. He rummaged in a pile of used and patched clothing. He pulled more than one out and tossed it back into the rejection pile as he compared them with the people trying to catch their breath. He handed one to Kat, then another to Bill, and finally one to her.
“What about you?” the vendor asked Bert.
“They don’t know about me. I’ll walk a distance from you.” Bert handed his tablet to the vendor, who palmed it for the transfer of credits. The vendor hadn’t revealed the price, and Bert didn’t hesitate to pay whatever it was. The Digger obviously had credits in an account, probably many of them. Her estimation of him increased.
The vendor said, “You know, I should just give them to you without charge. You’ve done enough for me.”
Bert said abruptly, “You have not seen us and if we’re caught, you’re totally surprised that we managed to slip into your shop and steal these robes. Act furious.”
“Leaving Roma?” the vendor asked as they started walking away.
“Got to,” Bert called over his shoulder. “Take care, my friend.”
The captain was again impressed. The three of them knew how to make loyal friends. The vendor had mentioned refusing payment, so that probably meant they had worked together before. Instead of being scared or heading out on her own, she was becoming more confident that staying with them was the right thing, for now, and in the future.
Doing favors for other beings meant they owed you. That was always a good thing and good for business. Traders often similarly did transactions for the same reason. It was always better to be owed than to owe.
The blue robes were slightly different shades of blue, although they had probably started life the same shade. Patches and repaired rips showed the hard use they’d had. The voluminous sleeves had concealed loops for their thumbs inside. When she inserted her right hand into the left sleeve in front of her, the loop found her thumb. A similar one held her left.
That was why those in blue robes walked with their hands concealed in front of them. The sleeves were like giant pockets. Those wearing the blue robes and hoods were usually converts to an obscure, strict religious order prevalent on Roma. Since they didn’t partake in any of the lewd offerings the hawkers called to others, they moved through the streets almost invisible.
Bert went a dozen steps ahead, walking slowly, upright, matching the pace of others on the streets and he maneuvered them to one of the busier pedestrian avenues. There were others in blue robes, here and there. They lived near the sea, which the blue of the robes indicated. Others of the sect wore green for forests, and a few brown colors, for desert worlds.
Their sect was not purely religious. They always worked hard at menial tasks to purchase plain food, owned nothing, and helped each other when possible. Most were constantly on the move, seldom remaining in one location for more than a couple of days.
Bert drew a few curious glances, most of which soon shifted elsewhere. Staring at a member of an unfamiliar alien race was considered bad manners on any civilized planet, and a nude Digger was certainly unusual. Stone fell into step beside Kat and asked, “Do you know where Bert is taking us?”
“No. I do know that he’s pissed.”
“At us?”
“And others. The world. Life in general. He left his research computers behind, most of which he designed and assembled to his liking. His data are stored remotely, but he’ll howl about this for months. Be prepared.”
“Can’t he go back and retrieve them? I mean as soon as we are all safe.”
“No. Not a chance. Besides, he’ll be with us.”
“Us?” she asked, confused before remembering Kat had included the Digger, along with Bill, as a condition of joining her crew. At least, Stone hoped the girl could be convinced but that remained uncertain.
Those who grew up wild, which meant on the streets of any civilized planet, learned how to survive, not what was presented in formal schooling. At some early age, usually around that of Kat, they became feral. No number of promises, bribes, friendship, or offers of a better life could break their chains to live a normal life. Stone hadn’t seen the signs of that. Not yet.
Kat continued, “Bill, Bert, and me. We’re a team, the three of us.”
The captain realized she hadn’t told them anything of her plans, let alone asking if they were willing to participate. There hadn’t been time. The mention of a “team” earlier was the first she’d heard of them being together other than a brief mention at the tent.
Gaining the trust of the empathic girl was the first goal. Not recruiting a rag-tag group of castoffs. At least, that had been the plan. Now the Bert-thing intrigued her almost as much as the empath, and Bill had a powerful build and a commanding manner she could use. With a little direction, he could be intimidating, often a useful tool for a trader.
Her mind spun, surged ahead, and mentally hiccupped as she ran. There was not a single mental thread that she tried to follow that held together. Then, as one, the boy and girl turned to look to their right side. In the distance, an aircar had lifted above the horizon of rooftops.
Her hands clenched inside the sleeves as her eyes searched the danger. In a single move, she shrugged her hood over her head and turned away. Not fully away, because she could still see the open aircar and the passengers operating equipment to identify those below, a combination of scanning ID chips, facial recognition, and artificial intelligence, all working in concert to find the missing captain of the Guardia. When they found no sign of her, they shifted tactics to identify the three strangers.
Had a silent message passed between the young man and the empath? Had they noticed the aircar at the same moment or had she told him? The captain had ducked under the cover of an extended
porch with the humans sitting at a table playing a game with dice. Kat was right behind. The mole-creature remained in the open, pretending to examine two pairs of shoes, none of which it needed.
While hiding from the aircar, she watched Bert flick a tiny spot of dirt from its brown fur shoulder. Despite living underground in burrows, it seemed the “fur” was so slick and well maintained that dirt didn’t cling to it. The creature was immaculately clean.
She whispered, “I know you call him a Digger, but what race is Bert? I don’t believe I’ve ever seen or heard of beings like him. Or her.”
Bill shrugged and said as if it didn’t matter, “Me neither and I have no idea. Digger is all we know.”
“You could simply ask Bert,” Kat said offhandedly as if it didn’t matter to her either.
She turned her head away as her eyes went blank as if she were intensely concentrating. Perhaps she was touching the minds of those on the grav-sled, telling them to search elsewhere. Captain stone asked, “Bert follows the two of you wherever you go?”
“We’re friends,” Kat said in an abstract tone. “Partners, really. Bert knows things. What he does not know, he finds out. We are always together.”
“Things he learns from computers?” Stone persisted.
“That and other stuff,” Bill said evasively. His eyes watched the aircar move past their position and continue without slowing as it moved away.
Bert motioned with a clawed hand for them to follow him again.
They entered the middle-class part of the city, where nearly all the inhabitants worked for the state-operated gambling houses in one manner or another. If not directly, the services and goods they dealt in were sold to those who repaired, installed, cleaned, fed, or entertained the paying customers. The houses on either side of the narrow street were uniformly three stories tall, the roofs flat, the exterior décor Roman.
The street surface was stamped and colored concrete, giving the appearance of red brick, which was not Roman, as she recalled, but the accuracy of detail was not as important as ambiance. The residents ignored them, probably believing they were also part of the show.
Bert paused. His ears twitched, shifted directions independently, and waited a few seconds. The humans moved to a vegetable stand and inspected the goods to remain inconspicuous.
Bert suddenly spun to his right and entered an alley filled with debris, much of it discarded cardboard for some unknown reason. He took them over and under the trash, moved them three streets away via the alleys, then resumed their trek in the direction of the spaceport.
As the outer perimeter came into view, an excess of soldiers, police, and private guards patrolled. The troops seemed anxious and nervous. Guards filled the few entrances to the spaceport, all searching each person attempting to enter critically. They halted and questioned everyone, often searching with their hands. Air traffic sleds entering the port backed up for a kilometer or more
“Now what?” Kat asked.
The people at the gates were primarily the crews of ships and merchants shipping or receiving goods. Many others were tourists. Stone realized they couldn’t attempt to get in that way, especially her. Perhaps not Kat, Bill, and Bert. She didn’t want to split the group.
She said, “How do the spaceport workers get inside?”
“Workers?” Kat asked.
“The cleaners, food servers, maintenance people with dirty hands or grease on their coveralls?” she said.
“Tunnels,” Bert said as he made a sudden half turn as if he understood her intent.
His foreclaw indicated a building like most others in the neighborhood, but larger. Above the entrance, a logo of a company had a spaceship lifting off. Or landing. People wearing work-clothes entered. Others exited.
“Right, you are,” the captain said. “Follow me.”
She strode confidently to the entrance. A woman ahead of them wore the uniform of a janitor. Her cuffs were threadbare, her shoe soles thin from wear. The captain moved to her side. “I wish to speak privately with you.”
The others held back.
The woman said worriedly, “About what? I have done nothing wrong.”
“Are you happy in your job?”
After a hesitation, the woman said, “Not really. It’s better than nothing. I got stranded on this dirtball by a man who was going to help me work in a casino as a singer. He lied.”
“Where are you from?” the captain asked.
“Evansdale, ever hear of it?”
“Nope,” she said curtly. “Want to go home?”
The woman stumbled to a stop. A stern and distrustful expression filled her face.
“Relax,” the captain said as she pulled her wrist-comp and flashed her identification, which revealed she was the captain of a trader-ship. “We want to avoid the police at the gates. We have done no harm to anyone, but they are insistent, and we are trying to avoid everyone. Help us get inside and I’ll pay for your passage to your home world, and maybe a bit more for your trouble.”
The cost of passage on a starship exceeded the pay the woman would receive in her menial job in a decade. A pained expression crossed her face as she debated with herself. She was thinking and considering refusing. The risk was too great. She was going to turn down the offer unless otherwise convinced because she was afraid of being caught and the consequences it would cost.
The captain turned to Kat with an intense expression as if trying to draw her attention. The captain wanted Kat to give the woman a positive mental nudge. Receiving a nod from Kat that she understood, the captain turned back to the janitor.
After a long pause, the janitor said, “I don’t want to, but I do want to go home. It can be done; I mean getting you into the spaceport. How do I know you’ll keep your word?”
“Evansdale, huh?” Stone tapped her wrist-comp and turned the screen to face the woman. “A ship leaves for there before the sun sets on Roma today. Shall I purchase the tickets in your name?”
“You might redeem it after you’re inside,” the janitor said cautiously.
“In that case, I’ll transfer the funds to you right now, if that is satisfactory,” Stone said. “Once we are inside, there will be another two-thousand credit transaction when we are ready to depart. In the worst case, you go home, and I keep the two-grand. But if it works out and I am honest, you have the passage and two-thousand credits. You win either way.”
Kat smiled as she “felt” the woman change her mind. She was going to help.
The woman hooked her arm in the captain’s and strolled inside the building together as if they were long-lost friends. The other three followed. Her ID badge opened the doors, and nobody inside objected when they all entered.
Inside was a maze of hallways and cluttered offices, doors with peeled paint revealing past colors, and rooms piled to the ceiling with castoff junk. Broken ladders, chairs with missing legs, old desks, mops, and piles of storage boxes filled empty areas. The strong scent of industrial cleaners permeated the air. The few people inside were busy at their tasks or resting from a hard shift.
The janitor took them directly to a side door and palmed the lock to open it. At her instruction, they quickly crowded inside. There were shelves of uniforms for the cleaning crew, the sizes neatly labeled, a row of benches to sit on while changing, and lockers, most without locks. Within moments, everyone wore clean uniforms and blank nametags—but whoever looked at the names on them to notice?
The woman said, “If someone asks, which probably won’t happen, you are new trainees assigned to me for the day. Say nothing else. Act as if you speak another language.”
A downward slanting slide-walk carried them along a dark, dank, tunnel that smelled of urine. Graffiti covered the walls, layer after layer from years of illicit painters. Ahead and behind were other workers wearing various uniforms. Kat eased closer beside the captain and whispered, “How did you know she would help us?”
“Her clothing was worn, she looked unhappy.”
&nb
sp; “No, I mean that she could get us inside the spaceport.”
“There are always back doors for the workers of the world. Wealthy travelers do not want to see those who clean, repair, or serve them. I took a chance. This is not the first spaceport back door I’ve been in.”
Kat accepted that.
The captain said softly, “Did you help her decide to help us?”
Kat meekly nodded.
“Good.”
The slide-walk evened out before it angled upward. At the end stood three uniformed guards inspecting arrivals at the landing. The janitor hissed in a scared tone, “They’ve never been there before.”
The captain patted her on the shoulder and said to Kat as she raised her eyebrows to convey the meaning behind her words, “Do those guards see who they’re looking for down that next hallway?”
Kat turned her attention to the guards, slightly confused at the captain’s question. Then she understood the hidden message. Kat closed her eyes and concentrated. When they were only twenty meters away, one of the guards pointed to a hallway off to their right and shouted, “I think that’s her!”
The others turned to look.
The guards raced each other down the hallway. In the meantime, the janitor turned to the side and headed for another doorway. Behind the door was a small room containing cleaning supplies. A stairway inside went up to another door.
The captain asked, “Where does that come out?”
“Near the passenger hub on the mall, where the shops are located.”
“Can we reach the passenger loading tubes from there?”
“Right outside that door,” the woman said with her first grin of the day.
The captain raised her wrist-comp, showed a money transfer to the janitor, and said, “The two-thousand I promised. Thank you. Good luck with your new life. Go before they discover us.”
