by Paul Brandis
Returning she said, "I almost lost her. None of the antibiotics did anything against the bacteria. But I noticed how cold her skin felt, so I laid her in my tanning pod. I gave her just a few seconds of ultra-violet coupled with infrared, and she cleared up almost immediately. As a matter-of-fact, anything that I tried, her reactions were always immediate, good or bad. She can't talk, but she reacts instantly to a person's moods. It's almost as if she can read my thoughts. I think she senses I only want to help her." She turned to him sternly. "So, when you're around her, be careful how you act and think. I wouldn't want anything more to happen to her."
He was silent for a moment, then said, "Don’t become attached to her. I kidnapped her for one reason: ransom." I've had a offer and I’ve taken it."
She looked away.
Wearily he sighed. "All right, what is it? What's bothering you?"
Tears streaked her face. "I don't want to give her up. And especially not to that monster, Garve Slen."
"Not give her up? Are you crazy?" He looked at her sharply. "Now get this straight, I didn't take on a whole shipload of Cult Guardian-Angels just to adopt a giant-sized infant. Get it through your head; she’s being sold." He paused. "Say, how did you know Garve Slen is a monster?"
She waved her hand listlessly. "Oh, it's a famous case. We studied about him in medical school. He can't have improved much with the passing years."
Phil remembered the soggy mass floating in the murky solution. He spoke up. "Don’t worry about it. He'll take very good care of her." He snorted. "He should. He's paying enough for her."
Her pleading eyes turned up to him. "That's just it. We're selling a human being, and a helpless one at that. Isn't that what happened to you? Didn't your father become addicted to the Cult ritual, and sell you to the Cult? Now you are doing something just as bad; selling Thea."
"Thea? What's that?"
She looked down and shrugged. "I couldn't keep on calling her the goddess; not when I've wiped her bottom as much as I have. So I named her Thea. It's the same thing."
He scanned her face with hard eyes. "Have you fallen in love with her?"
She looked away. "I couldn't help it. She's so helpless. So--"
Disgusted, he nodded. "So beautiful. Such a great figure. Such a great ass. Great breasts."
She nodded ruefully. "That too."
Suddenly a horrendous explosion rocked the asteroid. The building heaved up, tossing them to the floor. Part of the kitchen ceiling collapsed, and dust and debris rained down.
CHAPTER 6
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Phil awoke to the wail of a siren, and the hollow reverberations of concussion rounds exploding throughout the cavern; then to pain. His eyes blinked open to blurred chaos. Blood from a deep gash on his forehead drained into his eyes.
He struggled to sit up, but a beam pinned him down. Shoving it away, he rose to his knees and smeared the blood out of his eyes. Shots neared.
Trying to clear his mind, he grabbed the kitchen counter and pulled to his feet.
Casting around, he tried to find Kim among the dusty debris, but saw nothing but broken beams and debris. An explosion so close that the walls shuddered brought him to his senses. He had to find out what was happening.
He flew to the balcony. Outside, Gabriels, the Cult's elite shock troops, spurted through the cavern's tiny sky, shooting anything that moved. More poured in from the tunnel where The Flyer was tethered. That was why the siren howled. The troops had smashed the seal on the entryway. Precious oxygen was escaping into space.
A helmeted Gabriel streaked by, and Phil reached for his pistol.
Gone. His holster was empty. Kim must have taken it.
Another Gabriel flew by, and Phil shrank back into the darkened room. He had to find a weapon, but as he peeked again at the cavern, he knew the colony had no chance against the invaders. The line of warriors surging in appeared endless.
Some of the pirates valiantly fired from the protection of their windows, but every shot brought instant bombardment. A few in desperation, flew at the intruders, but concussion rounds tore them apart.
He searched for Kim in the wild clamor without success. In the center of the cavern, several Gabriels had erected a light cannon and explosions were tearing open the jerry-built houses. His would be next. Time to bail out.
Flying to the hallway , he tore open a trapdoor. A smooth, plastic pole fell away into the blackness of a mine shaft. He was about to dive in, when he heard a faint cry from the bedroom. Kim?
He lunged into the room and found Thea entangled in her fur sling, her lanky legs desperately kicking like a colt trapped in brambles. He hesitated, then whipped out his electron knife, cut both ends of the hammock, and wrapped the girl in it. Carrying her to the hole, he leaped in.
As he fell, she thrashed about in her fur cocoon, until he gave her a sharp shake, then held her tight. She settled into quiet weeping.
His touch activated the light in the tube, and as they fell toward the surface of the asteroid, the ghostly chambers of the strotium mine streaked by.
Behind them an explosion echoed down the shaft and the light in the tube dimmed.
Finally, they approached a huge rock that nearly filled the tunnel. Uneven in color and shape, it resembled a large asteroid.
Phil found the escape pod's hatch, pulled it open, and shoved her in. Jumping in behind her, he asked himself, Haven't I done all this before?
Strapping the girl into a bunk, he smelled a foul but familiar odor. The girl had soiled herself.
His eyes ran down the long, lithe body. High, round breasts peeped out of the fur sling.
None of that. He rattled his head to redirect his thinking. His first priority was to escape without being blasted to pieces by a Cult attack ship.
Slowly the little ship pushed up the mine shaft cover. Phil studied the monitors. No Cult craft on this side of the asteroid. The escape ship rose clear of the shaft, and keeping the body of the planetoid between it and the Cult ships, serpentined through the surrounding asteroids.
Once clear of the asteroid belt, and always checking to see if he was being followed, Phil trimmed the ship for a long voyage. Everything had to be conserved. The conversion units hummed away reprocessing their gases and liquids. And as long as he had water, he had food.
He shut off the engines and unfolded the yacht's sails; vast alloy wings, several molecules thin, that caught the solar winds and blew the little ship toward a blank hole in space.
He was taking a big chance. His father had once told him about a huge gaseous planet, actually a small star, far out in the system, around which a beautiful little world revolved. Though far off, the little world was so rich in radioactive minerals that gauges on the outlying outposts had picked it up. Prospecting teams and colonizing crews had flown out to investigate, and had never returned, and after a time, no further exploration attempts to reach the planet had been attempted.
Until now.
Phil checked the girl, now lying quietly in her bunk. He cut a piece off the fur sling, wetted it, and dispassionately washed her down. Then he rewrapped her in the fur, strapped her in, and closed the lid of her bunk. Monitoring her signs, he applied the gas, watching closely until it was replaced by oxygen.
He turned to his own problems. Finding the first aid kit, he washed, and bandaged his forehead. One more check on the monitoring systems, a last glass of juice, and he strapped himself into a bunk.
Now he had a few moments to reflect. How had the Cult found the Hole In The Wall? If they had followed The Flyer back from Rupert, he would have noticed. They had to be waiting nearby, hiding in the asteroid belt. Then why had they not attacked while he was gone? They must have been waiting for his return. Again, how did they know where the Hole was? Conclusion--somebody tipped them off.
Who?
That's what you'll have to find out when you get back, if you get back.
And Kim. Did she make it out?
He owed her a lot. She was the one
who had found him wounded in an alley after he had made his break from the Cult. The rest of the boys in the revolt had scattered. Only a nurse then, she had taken him in and later, been his first woman.
He sighed and, after muttering a quick prayer to the goddess of thieves, drunks, and wayfaring pirates, he too fell asleep.
Silently, the tiny ship drifted through the vast, hostile sea of space.
.
CHAPTER 7
The great, rusty ball loomed ahead. From its far side rolled a smaller, blue-green moon, and in wonderment, Phil watched his ore-indicator readouts zoom up. He tried to stifle his elation. Was he finally going to be rich?
He furled and battened down the yacht's sails, and fired up its nuclear engines. As he closed on the blue planet, he increased the monitor's telemagnification.
Green! There were stretches of green. And an atmosphere; oxygen and carbon dioxide based, a little thin but certainly breathable. And water. No oceans, but at least long lakes. Also several small mountain ranges; a couple of deserts.
He swooped in behind the mini-star, allowing its gravity to slow his speed, and slingshot him around to catch up with the little, green world. As he approached, he used precious fuel to slow down. Flashing into orbit around the planet he thought he saw--was that a small city, and there, another? He searched but found no space activity or flying. Nor had he received any telecommunications.
Suddenly his engines roared--then died. His monitors blinked and came up on battery power. Fire warnings blared on his console.
Phil quickly keyed the emergency procedures, then frantically attempted to re-fire the engines. Not a sound. He tried again. Nothing.
More warning lights blinked on. A great surge of fuel had burned out the nuclear engines. He checked his speed. He was entering the planet's atmosphere too fast. He stepped up the cabin coolant hoping the batteries could handle the load.
As the ship hurtled through the thickening atmosphere, the false outer body heated red hot, and like a doomed comet, streamed off in a shower of molten sparks lighting the blue sky. The bare glass hull remained, glowing redder by the moment.
Inside the ship, the temperature soared. The controls burned his hands. The seat, everything he touched scalded him. He knew he had but seconds left. Then he remembered the bunk.
Quickly he keyed in the altitude for the opening of the safety chute, then dived into his bunk and slammed down the lid. If the chute did not open, he would never know. He drifted into a cool, quiet sleep.
He awoke rolling lazily in his sling. Activating the bunk cover, he heard a soft lapping against the hull.
The ship lay horizontal, and he walked forward to the console. The batteries still worked. The ship bobbed in water.
Now what? Quickly he keyed the computer. He wished he had paid more attention when Dante had explained the little ship's features.
The computer informed him that as long as the hull's integrity remained intact, it would not sink in liquids. For propulsion, he could only use the Alpha rocket, which should remain out of the liquid at all times.
Great, he thought. Alpha rocket was as dead as last week's video. He wondered if Dante packed an oar.
Movement in a monitor caught his eye. Men aboard a large, log raft poled towards the ship. At least they looked like men. Light armor and leather covered their bodies, and helmets, their heads. In the center of the pack stood a tall man wearing a long, white gown.
CHAPTER 8
Phil pushed the hatch open, levered himself up, and sat on the top of the ship. Instantly the warriors jerked up their weapons in readiness.
Phil raised his hands in the age-old gesture of submission, and smiled. "Hold it, sheriff; I'll come peaceably."
The tall man smiled back. "Welcome to Bazinville. Where did you come from?"
"A long way, believe me. Is that the name of this planet; Bazinville?"
"No, the planet’s Serena. I'm Doctor Jacques Bazin, and that's Bazinville over there."
Phil followed the man's point to the gleaming, green spires of a small, walled city on a bluff above the lake. His breath caught. Sunlight shimmered off the green towers and rooftops creating an enchanted, almost fairylike picture.
"It's beautiful."
Pleased, Bazin glanced over his shoulder. "It is, isn't it?" The raft thumped hollowly against the side of the ship, and the warriors held it there with their poles. "And what is your name?"
"Phil Brown."
"Well, Mr. Brown, where's the rest of your crew?"
"Crew? Oh, I'm it."
Bazin's smile faded. "You're alone then."
"Uh, no. I have a woman aboard." The men stirred. "But, she's still asleep."
Bazin stared at him intently. "A woman, you say. How old, sir? I ask you, how old?"
Phil frowned. "Oh, I suppose about twenty."
Bazin came to the edge of the raft. "Would it be all right if I came aboard?"
"Sure. Hold on, I'll get the ladder.
Phil found the cable ladder rolled up under the console, hooked it to the hatch, and unrolled it down to the men. The first man up was a huge warrior. Because of the narrow goggles in the warrior's face mask, Phil could not see his eyes, but other than the body armor, gauntlets and greaves, he wore only a leather breechcloth. Then, as the man topped the ladder, Phil noticed wire circuitry embedded in the armor, and tiny control keys placed at easy access on his chest.
The big man pulled his shoulder weapon off, and wedged through the hatch.
Glimpsing the weapon, Phil thought, My God, it's a light rifle. He had not seen one of those in years. It was an antique, but still lethal. He wished he had his concussion pistol.
As Phil watched, the big man quickly searched the pod, then paused. One of the warriors next to Bazin said something to him, and the older man eagerly mounted the ladder.
Inside the cabin, the big bodyguard stood aside, and Bazin hurried directly to Thea's bunk and peered through the thick, transparent cover. He turned to Phil with an elated smile on his narrow features. "Has she had any children yet?"
"Uh, I don't think so."
Bazin smiled at his puzzlement. "You see, Mr. Brown, though we have many women, they can't have children. You can understand what that means: the ultimate expiration of our world." He gazed admiringly at the girl in the glass coffin. "But just one woman who can give birth;" he looked up at Phil eagerly, "with children, perhaps girls, we might survive."
The doctor studied the bunk's controls. "Quick, we must get her out of here and under cover."
Phil moved closer. "Wait. I can see you have a problem. But this girl is kind of different; uh, special. I don't think she'd be interested in becoming a mother. Besides, we're not planning on being here long enough to start a family."
The tall man smiled at him patronizingly. "Mr. Brown, I'm afraid you're going to be here much longer than you think," he said, and he pushed the bunk cover release.
Phil reached out to restrain the man, and immediately the big guard gripped his arm. Mind-numbing pain shot through Phil's body as the guard squeezed with inhuman strength.
Helpless, Phil buckled to the floor.
Bazin watched stoically for a moment, then nodded, and the guard released his grip. Panting from the pain, Phil pulled to his feet and steadied himself against the bunk.
Bazin spoke patiently. "Now then, it is imperative that we get this girl under a protective covering, or the same thing will happen to her that happened to all our women."
Phil massage feeling back into his arm. He had little doubt that, had the giant continued, he would have snapped it like a twig.
"Yeah, and what would that be?" he said waspishly.
"As I said, she will be rendered impotent."
"How can you be so sure?"
The tall man fixed him with a keen eye. "Mr. Brown, you came here because of the high radioactive ore readings, didn't you?" He ignored Phil's silence and continued. "No need to deny it. That's why we all came here. But, as you neared our
planet, your nuclear engines flared out, right?"
Phil nodded.
"Right. That too is the same thing that happened to us. But it wasn't the fault of the engines, but of lysidium-three. As you probably know, it's the rarest ore in the system. Highly radioactive, yet stable. And we have the largest deposit ever found. Unfortunately, there's nothing we can do about it."
"What do you mean? Why don't you mine it?"
"Because it's not on Serena. It's on the smaller planet that follows us. Perhaps you didn't see it when you flew in. Its surface is black and porous, and difficult to see in space. When we tried to land here, our engines overloaded and we crashed too. Now they don't work. Nothing nuclear works here for long. We can't get at the ore, and we can't get off the planet. We've had to make a life for ourselves without nuclear power. It hasn't been too bad, but the radiation from the lysidium-three affects the reproduction cycle of women, and they can't have children. Are you following me, Mr. Brown?"
He nodded. "I guess so."
"Good. The rotation of our planet, and Thor, our sun, shields us from Black Moon for a few hours every day. We must get this girl undercover before it clears the horizon."
Phil sensed the man's urgency, but he hesitated. "All right. But there's something you must know about this girl. She's, well, naive. No--more than that--almost retarded. She can't talk. Messes herself like a baby, and I don't think she's ever had clothes on."
Bazin studied the girl for a moment, then spoke in slow wonderment. "My god, I believe this girl's a Cult-Temple Goddess." His face broke into a gleeful grin. He grabbed Phil's hand and rung it like a bell rope. "This is great. Just great. Just what we need for tall, strong fighters."
Phil shook his head. "Doctor, you don't know what you're asking. This girl can't stand to be touched. See how I had to wrap her so the straps wouldn't hurt her?"
Bazin continued to smile happily. "Brown, she'll never be touched by human hands."
Phil could not help stealing a glance at the monster standing beside him.
