The Wishing Stone

by Christopher Pike

  Sally was thoughtful. “Watch had the laser pistol. Maybe he blew the Collector away.”

  “Even if he did, I don’t think that’s going to help us.”

  Sally sighed. “All that good stuff isn’t any use here.”

  Cindy agreed. “You’d think they’d have let us bring it with us. It looks like we’ll be paying for it for a long time.”

  A soft voice spoke near them. “You only get what you wished for after you pay off your debts.”

  They looked over at the neighboring bunk. A girl who appeared to be about their age, with a green face and white eyes, sat up and studied them. Her hair was long and black, so tightly curled that it would have been longer than she was tall if it were straightened out. She was beautiful, even with a green face, even by human standards. Plus her voice was a thing of music, gentle and melodious.

  “Who are you?” Sally asked.

  “My name is Hironee. What are your names?”

  “I’m Sally and this is Cindy.” Sally paused. “Have you been here long?”

  Hironee was grave. “Half my life. I assume you are from Earth?”

  “Yeah,” Cindy said. “You’ve heard of the place?”

  “I had a friend who was from there. His name was Charles. He taught me your language. Except for the local boss and the robots—who know every language in the galaxy—I am the only one on Amacron Thirty-seven who knows English.”

  “But what happened to Charles?” Cindy asked.

  Hironee spoke sadly. “He was here for five years and then one day he couldn’t take it anymore and tried to escape.” Hironee lowered her head. “The robots caught him in the desert and burned him to a crisp.”

  “Has anyone ever escaped from here?” Sally asked.

  Hironee glanced up. “There are stories that a few have escaped, over the last ten thousand years. But no one has done it while I’ve been here. This particular camp is surrounded by an invisible force field. To get out into the deep desert, you have to disable the force field, which Charles did by making a bomb out of chemicals in the soil. But then there is nowhere to go in the desert. Either the elements kill you or the robots find you and cut you down with their lasers.”

  “What planet are you from?” Cindy asked.

  Hironee brightened. “My planet is named Zanath. It is very beautiful, littered with what you would call tropical islands. I was very happy there.” She added wistfully, “I miss it very much.”

  “Were you brought here by a Collector?” Sally asked.

  “Yes. I accidentally found a Wishing Stone and made a few wishes before the Collector appeared and demanded I pay him five hundred and sixteen gratoms.”

  “Exactly how long have you been here?” Sally asked.

  “Four of your years.”

  “How many gratoms have you worked off in that time?”

  “Three gratoms,” Hironee said and laughed softly, a sad, low laugh. “It really doesn’t matter what your debt is. You will never pay it off before you die. That’s the way the Kasters set up the system.”

  “That’s what I suspected,” Sally said grimly.

  “Who are the Kasters?” Cindy asked.

  “They are the ones who construct the Wishing Stones. They seed them on planets all over the galaxy and use them to ensnare slave labor. The more advanced civilizations are aware of them and never use the stones. But the Kasters are always finding fresh slaves to work for them. They are shady businessmen, a greedy race of reptiles with a ruthless reputation for cheating and extortion. They also construct the robots who run this slave planet and many others like it.”

  “Are there any Kasters here?” Sally asked.

  “One. His name is Teeh, and he is horrible. He is the one I told you about who also speaks English. You’ll meet him tomorrow—he goes out of his way to harass new slaves.” Hironee lowered her voice. “Don’t ever anger him. He’ll peel the skin off your body and eat it in front of you. I’ve seen him do it.”

  “Why don’t the more advanced civilizations in the galaxy stop the Kasters from taking slaves?” Cindy asked.

  “The Kasters are a powerful and feared race. They take only slaves from those who have become indebted to them. This is what you would call a loophole in the galactic law. It allows them to operate just outside the law. Plus a lot of races still buy Kaster goods. There is always a market for them. Here on this planet you will make Kaster lamps for the rest of your lives.” Hironee shrugged. “They’re pretty good lamps. They’ll last longer than we will.”

  “We will not remain here for the rest of our lives,” Sally said flatly. “We are going to escape. I don’t care how long it takes, but we will not stay here and make lamps for a bunch of slimy reptiles.”

  Hironee cautioned Sally to lower her voice. She glanced around the barracks, her white eyes glittering in the dark.

  “Be careful what you say. Teeh has spies everywhere. We can talk about such matters during the work shift when not so many ears are close. But I can tell you now it is better, in the long run, to accept your situation and try to live with it. There is no real chance of escape. Remember what happened to Charles.”

  Sally lowered her voice to a whisper. “Cindy and I are from Spooksville. It’s the roughest town on Earth. You may have heard about it from Charles. It’s prepared us for places like this. I don’t want to brag about our past but let’s just say we’ve been in worse fixes than this before.”

  “We have?” Cindy asked.

  Sally continued as if she hadn’t heard her. “Cindy and I are intelligent and resourceful. We will never accept this situation.” Sally glanced out the barracks window at the setting purple sun. “The Kasters are going to regret they ever brought us here.”

  6

  Adam and Watch materialized underground in a huge rocky cavern. The place was far from empty but their sudden appearance didn’t even cause a stir. There had to be a hundred different races milling about the cavern, which seemed to be a marketplace of sorts. There were creatures of every color and shape—some looked more like monsters than intelligent beings, especially the insectile beings. Adam shuddered as a couple came close and stared at him with several hundred emotionless eyes.

  “Those two look like they’d like to have us for dinner,” Adam muttered.

  “Yeah,” Watch said. “I think we’d better get off this platform. It’s probably where people beam into this place.”

  They headed into a corner of the cavern, in the direction of what looked like a food place. There were numerous tables set up and people were feasting on exotic dishes. Between the tables squat robots with square heads took orders and delivered meals.

  “Do you think this is Amacron Thirty-seven?” Adam asked.

  “No,” Watch said without hesitating. “This is not a slave planet. All these people look like they’re out for an afternoon of shopping.”

  “But why would the transporter send us to another planet?”

  “You forget the Collector dropped the sphere as he fell,” Watch explained, still holding the instrument in his right hand. The laser he had tucked in his belt, under his shirt. “A button was probably pushed that moved the destination control to the next place on the list.”

  “Makes sense. But maybe someone here can tell us how to set the sphere for the slave planet.”

  “We might want to find out about Amacron Thirty-seven before we go barging in,” Watch said, finally putting the sphere in his front pocket.

  Adam nodded. “Good idea.” He pointed to the far corner. “Let’s sit at that table and act like we belong.”

  They weren’t seated long before one of the square-headed robots approached them to take their orders. It looked like a box of metal on wheels, except for its mouth, which faintly resembled a human mouth with a serious case of braces. It nodded as it approached and then gestured with an aluminum arm for them to speak, probably to figure out what planet they were from and what language they used. They figured this had to be correct because right aft
er Adam and Watch said hello, it replied in a clear mechanical voice:

  “Earth. English.”

  “That’s correct,” Watch said. “You speak English?”

  “Fluently. What would you two sentient beings like to eat and drink?”

  Adam glanced at Watch. “We don’t have any gratoms. We better not order anything.”

  “There is no charge for these services,” the robot interrupted. “What would you like to eat and drink?”

  Watch removed his glasses and cleaned them on the tail of his shirt. “What do you have?” he asked.

  “To repeat verbally our complete menu in the English language would take a long time,” the robot said. “But we do have a wide variety of Earth dishes. Perhaps you could order and I will tell you if we can meet your needs.”

  Adam brightened. “Could I have a turkey sandwich on white toast, with lettuce and tomato, no mayonnaise? And an order of French fries and a large Coke?”

  “Certainly,” the robot said. He turned to Watch. “And you, sir?”

  “I would like a pepperoni pizza with a large Coke.”

  “Is that all?”

  “Bring us some chocolate-chip cookies as well,” Watch said.

  The robot was agreeable. “Your order will take ten earth minutes to prepare. But I can bring your drinks within two minutes.” The robot turned to leave.

  “Excuse me,” Adam said. “Just before you go. What planet is this?”

  “This is not a planet, sir, but an asteroid. Its name is Globar Ninety-two.”

  “Are we far from Amacron Thirty-seven?” Watch asked.

  “Yes. Two thousand seven hundred and eighteen point six light-years.”

  “Thank you,” Adam said. “My friend and I will have ice with our Cokes.”

  The robot left and Watch nodded seriously. “I suspected we were on an asteroid. Notice that this whole place is underground?”

  “Yeah. But at least it’s nice that we don’t have to pay for lunch.”

  “We should wait until we get our food to see how nice it is.”

  Watch’s concern proved groundless. The food—when it arrived—was very good. The Cokes, in fact, tasted identical to Earth’s, but the robot explained that they were popular in even this part of the galaxy. Adam practically wolfed down his sandwich. Fighting with mysterious forces always made him hungry.

  It was while they were eating their cookies that the stranger arrived. One moment they were alone and the next he was standing beside their table.

  “May I join you?” he asked. But those were not exactly the words that came from his mouth. He spoke another language, but a voice box clipped to his belt provided them with the translation. Indeed, he had two extra boxes with him, which he quickly offered to Adam and Watch. Apparently they were universal translators that were often employed in such places as Globar 92. Adam and Watch clipped them onto their own belts.

  “Sure,” Adam said as the box translated his word into the visitor’s language. “You can sit down.”

  “But before you do, we would prefer you to tell us what you want,” Watch said.

  Adam understood Watch’s concern. The guy would have stood out at a Halloween party. He was ghastly thin and white as a bed sheet. His features were human as far as shape and function, but his eyes were completely blue, as was his long robe. To top it off he was smoking a fat cigar and didn’t have a trace of hair on his body. On the crown of his head he wore a square blue cap. He blew cigar smoke Watch’s way as Watch’s comment was translated by the box he had just clipped to his belt.

  “My name is Fur,” he said. “I am well known in these parts. Ask anybody about me, they’ll give you a good recommendation.”

  “What would they recommend you for?” Adam asked.

  “I am a trader,” Fur said. “I make deals, good deals. May I sit down?”

  “Yes,” Adam said. “I’m Adam and this is Watch.”

  “Pleased to meet you both.”

  “Why are you called Fur?” Watch asked. “You look like you don’t have a hair on your body.”

  Fur appeared displeased as he pulled up a chair. “Is it the custom on your world to insult somebody because he is bald?” He stroked his shiny white head. “When I get a little ahead, I plan on having a hair transplant.”

  “Where are they going to transplant it from?” Watch asked. “Your twin sister?”

  “Fur,” Adam said quickly. “My friend doesn’t mean to be rude. We’re just curious about what you want.” He added, “We’re strangers here.”

  “I can see that,” Fur said. “I spotted you the moment you came in, and have been studying you since.” He paused. “I know you’re from Earth, and that you’re young by that society’s standards.”

  “We’re not that young,” Watch said.

  Fur smiled and they saw that his teeth were blue as well. “I am not bald and you are not young. Very well, we are off to a good start.” He leaned closer and lowered his voice. The translator softened as well—it was clearly capable of distinguishing different emotional tones. “I couldn’t help noticing that you came in carrying a Kaster transporter.”

  “We did?” Adam asked. “I mean, yeah, so what? It’s a good make.”

  Fur’s smile broadened. “The Kasters do not sell their transporters, not willingly. I can only assume you obtained this one through—how should I put it?—unusual means.”

  Watch shrugged. “I don’t see what business that is of yours.”

  Fur shrugged. “I am not interested in how you got it. I just want to know if you want to sell it.”

  “No,” Watch said.

  “Don’t you want to know what I would give you for it in return?” Fur asked.

  “No,” Watch said.

  Adam raised a hand. “Just a second, Watch. Let’s listen and see what’s available.” He paused. “What are you offering, Mr. Fur?”

  “Just call me Fur. I can offer you pretty much whatever you want.” He laughed out loud. “You really should ask about me. They’ll tell you that there’s nothing Fur can’t get you, and quick.”

  “Except perhaps a Kaster transporter,” Watch said.

  Fur lost his smile. “They are not easily available, it is true. But come, name your price. I am willing to bargain.”

  “Can you give us twenty thousand gratoms?” Watch asked.

  Fur blinked. “You can’t be serious? I don’t have that kind of wealth. There isn’t a sentient being in this place who does. What’s the matter? Do you owe a Kaster Collector a Wishing Stone debt?”

  Adam hesitated. “As a matter of fact we do.”

  Fur nodded, taking it all in. “And the Collector appeared and tried to collect the debt. And somehow you two destroyed the Collector and took its transporter. I see the whole picture now. Am I right?”

  “You’re close,” Adam admitted. “Before we could take care of the Collector, it managed to transport two of our friends to Amacron Thirty-seven.” He added, “They’re Sally and Cindy. I don’t suppose you’ve heard about them?”

  Fur was grave. “I have not heard of them nor will they ever be heard from again. If they have gone to a Kaster slave planet, there is no escape for them. They are doomed to work as slaves for the remainder of their lives.”

  “Sally always was a good worker,” Watch said, trying to put a positive spin on the matter. But Adam was appalled.

  “There must be some way to save them,” he said.

  Fur shook his head. Apparently that meant no in that part of the galaxy, too.

  “The Kasters keep perfect records,” he explained. “They never allow a debt to go unpaid. That is the cornerstone of their ruthless reputation. Even if you could somehow get onto Amacron Thirty-seven—which would be next to impossible—they would still have a record of your friends’ debts. They would hunt them down to the last corner of the galaxy and make them pay.”

  “Where are these records kept?” Watch asked.

  Fur had to think. “In various places. For A
macron Thirty-seven I imagine the records are stored on Tallas Four. That’s in the Orion sector. But you don’t want to go there.”

  “Why not?” Adam asked.

  Fur wrinkled his nose. “They have lousy food.”

  Adam and Watch looked at each other.

  “Is there another reason we can’t go to Tallas Four besides the lousy food?” Adam asked.

  “Lots of reasons,” Fur said. “It is a heavily fortified moon. Get within half a light-year of it and the Kaster will blow you out of the sky.” He paused. “Why would you want to go there?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” Adam asked. “We want to erase the record of our friends’ debts.”

  Fur snorted. “That isn’t going to happen.”

  Adam spoke in a stern voice. “If it doesn’t happen you’re not going to get our Kaster transporter.”

  Once again Fur lost his smile. “I can’t take you to Tallas Four. Even my wonderful ship—the Fruitfly—doesn’t have a force field capable of withstanding what they would hit us with.”

  “But what if you had a Kaster force field surrounding your ship?” Watch asked.

  Fur was instantly interested. “You have such a device?”

  “We have a portable force field generator,” Adam said quickly. “We don’t know if it can protect your ship.”

  “If it’s the one I’m thinking of, it can protect a whole battleship.” Fur stuck out his white hand. “Let me see it.”

  Watch hesitated. “How do we know you’ll give it back once we hand it over?”

  “Because if I cheated you here in front of all these people my reputation would be permanently ruined. Don’t worry, Watch. I just want to check its serial number.”

  Watch took out the oval-shaped generator and gave it to Fur, who studied it intently. Apparently the serial number was not something you read on the side of the object. But finally Fur’s face brightened.

  “You must have wished for the top of the line!” he exclaimed.

  “Naturally,” Watch said.

  Fur continued. “The size of the field can be adjusted to accommodate the Fruitfly. The field can even be altered so that it makes my ship temporarily invisible. But that does not mean that we can simply break into Tallas Four and erase all the Kaster records. To do that we would have to blow up their computers—and that would take heavy fire power.”