by Louise Wise
The valley looked peaceful. Small, simple buildings with smoking chimneys and paddocks for grazing cattle. Haryns were standing idly in more grassland, unhitched carts, bundled hay and crop fields. It was a picture of civilisation, only Fly’s heart was becoming heavier and heavier with each step he was forced to take further away from Diana.
He was taken into a house made out of rock and wood. Inside, on a wooden floor was well-made furniture, which included a table, chairs and a hammock-style bed. A large clay oven, beneath a chimney, was at the back of the room and was the source of the steady heat. Beside the oven was a long counter and on top was a frothing bucket of milk.
Behind him, Gorjum came in with a few others and the little house seemed to shrink with all the bodies inside. Among the men was Molver, still cradling the baby against her skinny chest. She sat in a chair as Saneg brought out a bucket from a cupboard beneath the counter. He put a muslin cloth over it, then poured the milk over the cloth to sieve it. It was automatic, as if he’d done it countless times.
Fly looked at Molver and she smiled at him. He looked back at Saneg who was pouring the filtered milk into a pan before putting it into the oven to boil.
The rope around Fly’s neck was jerked and he was forced to sit on a chair. The rope tightened as someone tied him down, but mercifully loosened when that someone moved away and Fly was left to watch, helpless, as Molver placed a clean nappy on Diana, tied the corners around the baby’s legs, and then swaddled her with a clean blanket. The baby had stopped crying, and was staring intently at Molver with her large Jelvian eyes.
Fly’s ropes were jostled and he turned to look at the person sitting in the chair closest to him. It was Gorjum.
‘As you can see the baby is being cared for,’ he said. ‘Time for you to tell us about the alien female. No more lies.’
As the milk heated, Fly told them his story: from being a prisoner in the basement of the spaceship while his bombs went off above, to escaping and finding bodies of Jelvias and thinking everyone had died. He admitted those few years of being alone were the worst ever, and then the humans arrived—they hadn’t been rumours. Jenny wasn’t, and had never been, a prisoner, he told them. They’d fallen in love. He spoke without embarrassment, without modesty.
‘Ask Molver,’ Fly said when the look on Gorjum’s face told Fly that he wasn’t believed. ‘She was there when Jenny was stuck in the cave. She’ll tell you that Jenny wasn’t afraid of me.’
‘Molver?’ Gorjum asked.
Molver looked up with a jerk. She hadn’t been listening, intent on playing with the baby.
‘Did you speak to the human?’
Molver beamed. ‘Oh yes! She said “hello Molver”.’
‘Is that all?’ he said as Saneg took the milk from the boil and poured some of it into a tall cylindrical container. He topped it up with cold water pumped from a large barrel.
‘They spoke Earth to one another mainly.’ She looked from Fly to Gorjum as if sensing she wasn’t helping.
‘So you didn’t understand what she was saying to Fly?’
She frowned. ‘Her voice didn’t sound like she was a prisoner. Fly gave her food and they held hands through the gap in the rock.’
‘Touching.’
‘They were touching,’ she said. Adding, ‘Hands.’
Fly looked away and watched as Saneg tested the temperature of the milk. He added more cold water then placed a muslin cloth, triple thickness, over the top of the canister, secured it with string and pinched the top layer so it resembled a teat. He handed the milk to Molver. Fly swung his gaze to her.
‘It still might be too rich,’ Saneg said as Molver took the milk.
Fly watched with held breath as she placed the muslin ‘teat’ against the baby’s lips. The baby didn’t respond.
‘Come on, sweetie,’ Molver said, and nudged the teat in between her lips. Milk leaked from the top and ran down the baby’s chin. Molver gently dabbed it away. Fly silently willed the baby to take the teat as Molver nudged her lips with it. Milk filled the baby’s mouth but ran back out.
Again, Molver dabbed at the spilt milk. ‘Come on, Diana,’ she said. She sat the baby up a little more, and pressed the muslin teat back against her mouth. She tried to ease the lips apart, but they remained shut. Molver looked up at Fly, her eyes were sparkling with unshed tears. ‘She won’t take it.’
‘Untie me!’ Fly demanded. ‘Please, let me feed the baby. She’s been without food for two days now.’ The baby’s large eyes looked around the room; her face gaunt. She had a scratch on her cheek that Fly hadn’t noticed. It looked raised and sore. ‘Gorjum!’
Gorjum looked lazily at him. ‘No wonder you have her fooled. You’re good, I give you that,’ he said, but Fly noticed a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes.
Molver dribbled milk on her finger, and gently parted the baby’s mouth with it. She pulled her finger out, looked at Fly and shook her head. ‘No response,’ she said.
Fly struggled against his restraints, knocking Gorjum from his chair and knocking other furniture over in his battle. Someone hit him between the shoulder blades rendering him momentarily helpless. He fell sideways, taking the chair with him.
‘No!’ shouted Molver. ‘Gorjum, please.’
‘All right. Untie him!’ Gorjum shouted back. He raked his hair. ‘If he tries to leave this building, shoot him.’
Fly was hauled up and his bounds were cut. Fly sliced off the rope around his neck with his claws, then crossed the room towards Diana and took her in his arms. The baby’s eyes latched onto his immediately. She cooed, and Fly had to restrain himself from not burying his head against her small body and crying. Instead, he sat next to Molver, and taking the canister, dabbed the teat against Diana’s mouth letting a little trickle of milk fall. Suddenly, as if life had been switched back on, the baby grabbed the teat and began to suck.
Molver laughed and clapped her hands.
Fly felt incredibly weak, and it wasn’t due to the blow he’d received. He was glad he was sitting down. He watched as the baby fed, aware of how quiet the room had become. Seizing control of his emotions, he looked up. The men were staring at the baby with an emotion on their faces that Fly couldn’t decipher. The closest he got to it was looking at an old photograph of someone you once loved but knew you’d never see again.
Gorjum recovered first. He cleared his throat and said, ‘Molver didn’t understand the human. She could have been begging you to leave her alone, for all she knew.’
‘She handed the baby to him willingly, Gorjum,’ Molver said.
‘How come you only had the one child?’
‘Thankfully, she had some kind of implant to stop pregnancies,’ Fly said.
‘Thankfully?’
‘Well, if it’d been a boy it would have killed her. The toxins,’ he added.
Someone sniggered, and Fly looked at him. It was the man with the hoe.
‘Cra is a doctor,’ Gorjum said. ‘Sentenced to the mercy ship because he failed to diagnose a warden’s illness.’
Fly had only heard the spaceship being called a mercy ship by the runaways. He said nothing.
‘Explain these “toxins”, Cra,’ Gorjum said.
Cra recovered his laughter. ‘A male child wouldn’t have harmed the human. The poison doesn’t leak. It was a clever lie to keep women abhorring the old ways.’
Fly’s eyes moved down to Diana. ‘I was prepared to help Jenny terminate the pregnancy.’
‘Why should I believe you’ve changed?’ Gorjum said and Fly looked up. ‘You were ruthless in your quest to find runaways.’
‘You said it,’ Fly said and when Gorjum looked puzzled he added, ‘Were. I was ruthless. I know what I was—what I’ve done. You were like me; an assassin and a hunter of runaways. Are you that same person?’
There was a heavy silence in the room followed by a deep rumble of laughter.
‘You were always the decoy, Fly,’ Gorjum said.
‘What are you tal
king about?’
‘You were reviled within the runaway community. I was chosen to pull you down, I couldn’t get near you to kill you so I did the next best thing. I set you up and had you imprisoned on the ship.’
More laughter.
‘I wasn’t an assassin,’ Gorjum continued. ‘I was a runaway. I had a family and a home, just what you say you have now. You were a seasoned killer. Killed to order. Arrogant from the beginning. Thought you were untouchable, didn’t you? Thought you had the mutiny all in hand. But, Flitespinter, the mutiny was arranged by me. I arranged it all. I used your arrogance to make you believe it was all your doing, and I needed your ruthlessness to cause the uprising.’
Gorjum stood up and began pacing the room. ‘Give the child back to Molver!’ he snapped. ‘I can’t talk to you while you’re hiding behind a baby.’
The baby was wide-awake; her eyes looked sunken in her face. She was sucking spasmodically and not as well as Fly would have liked. He lifted her up in his arms and kissed the top of her head, then handed her back to Molver. As she took the child, Fly took the chance to whisper, ‘Whatever happens, look after her.’
‘You don’t need to ask,’ she murmured back, taking the child.
Fly stood up, and Gorjum’s men stepped forward. Gorjum waved them away, himself standing.
Fly and Gorjum eyeballed one another until Gorjum said,
‘Were you aware of what these supposed runaways did? What their crime was?’
‘They dropped out of society and didn’t pay their due,’ Fly said.
‘Wrong. There were men, women and children living as family units, which the Itor authorities condemned. They instructed people like you to bring them to justice. Justice! Just because they couldn’t be controlled; couldn’t be seen how they were living!’
‘I was blinded by my role,’ Fly said. ‘I knew no different.’
‘You say that now. We feared and hated you, and you had to be got rid of. I was elected to remove you but it cost me my freedom,’ he paused and stepped back. He dropped into a chair and his voice was less angry when he continued, ‘and I was ejected from Jelvian society and put on the spaceship. An experimental punishment to abort so-called criminals to test space exploration. The irony of it was that you were my cell-mate and I had to keep up the pretence of being an assassin.’
‘I’ve wouldn’t have cared about your crime,’ Fly said. ‘We were prisoners against the wardens.’
Gorjum’s eyes lightened, and a muscle in his cheek twitched. ‘I don’t believe you now and I didn’t then. My family were on the ship. Runaways. My wife, son and daughter. Hiding in the air vents—’
‘Where I placed the bombs!’
‘Yes.’
Fly looked up at the ceiling. ‘Jesus!’
‘A human word? You use gestures, too, that are unfamiliar.’
‘I learnt many things from Jenny, empathy was one of them.’ Fly looked over at Diana. The little bit of milk she’d taken had filled her up, and she lay passive in Molver’s arms. She gave a wide yawn, and then her eyes fluttered shut. Molver handed the bottle to Saneg.
‘I’ll let her sleep for a while and then try and get more milk into her,’ she said.
‘You knew I was placing explosions around the ship,’ said Fly looking back at Gorjum. ‘Why didn’t you tell me to avoid the air vents instead of stealing the ones I’d placed?’
‘Two simple reasons, the first being you had to think I was on your side, the second because I wanted the explosives for my own use.’
‘I wouldn’t have harmed your family,’ Fly said, but at the back of his mind he knew this wasn’t true. He’d have killed them. The women he would have handed over to the other prisoners—after he’d enjoyed them himself. He wasn’t the same person now. The other Fly was a murderous, evil man that he didn’t recognise. He lowered his head.
‘Exactly,’ said Gorjum reading his mind. He added, ‘Only my daughter survived.’
Fly’s eyes widened in shock, and then looked to where Gorjum was looking. Molver was singing softly under her breath as she gently rocked the baby. Fly swung his head back to Gorjum.
He was smiling. ‘I kept her hidden almost until we were in orbit around Eden, and her gender was never discovered. I have your unfound bombs to thank for that. Although Strad wouldn’t have cared about her gender. Boy or girl he’d have—’
There was a slam of a door, and Fly looked to see that Saneg had left the room.
‘I’m no longer Flitespinter. I’ve been living a peaceful life with Jenny. She gave up going back to Earth because she wanted to stay with me.’
‘Is that so? Let me hear that for myself. You’re going to lead us to the human.’
Before Fly could answer, the bells clanged out again, and the Jelvias rushed from the room leaving Gorjum, Molver, the baby and Fly. Saneg came back breathing heavily.
‘Wardens,’ he said to Gorjum.
Molver, with the baby against her shoulder, stood up and followed Saneg through the back door. Through the opened doorway, Fly saw another room and a cleverly camouflaged door buried in the ground, which Saneg pulled up. There were stone steps leading down, but Molver stopped on the top one and turned to look at Fly. ‘Trust Gorjum,’ she said.
Then the door banged shut after them. Fly looked at Gorjum. ‘How safe are you here with the wardens roaming the area?’
‘We’re safe,’ he said. ‘This “Jenny”, if they find her, isn’t.’
‘And that’s why I need to find her. Think what you like of me. Kill me later—I’ll even stand still for you, but help me find Jenny first.’
‘You have a deal.’
Chapter Fifty One
Jenny opened her eyes, and panicked momentarily. The darkness felt like it had substance. Then she remembered. She was inside a tree in the jungle and it was night time. She heard footsteps crashing through the undergrowth and realised this is what had woken her. She bit her lip on a whimper, and remained still and silent.
The footsteps ebbed away, only to come crashing back.
‘I can smell you, little goddess. Your scent is in the air. Sweet and fresh.’
Jenny squeezed her eyes closed.
The footsteps came scarily close to her hiding place, and the tree creaked as if he was leaning on it.
An eerie, scalp-freezing howl filled the air. Louder than the chirping, chattering and barking forest animals. It dominated the jungle. Once, Jenny had been afraid of this howl, but now, she welcomed it. The tree creaked again as the man moved. If he’d lived on the high lands since arriving on Eden, and not travelled through the jungle during the night he’d not have heard the howl at this intensity. There was an answering howl, then the two voices joined and the volume increased. Jenny wondered if this was more than two natives. Maybe an entire pack were out hunting.
The Jelvian man swore, and his footsteps ran lightly one way. Stopped, and then came back.
‘Goddess, wherever you are, come with me now. I won’t hurt you, but you’re not safe here. Can you not hear that noise?’ His tone was soft, almost teasing. ‘My name’s Murdow. Come now, I won’t hurt you.’
Jenny remained silent. Her forehead pressed hard against her knees.
The howls came again, and then the familiar slap-slap footsteps of the honnards as they came through the trees. She couldn’t see them, but she heard Murdow’s response as he saw them. It wasn’t what she hoped.
‘Well, well, my little beasties.’
Then there was a thump and a gabble of voices, then their footsteps went away—faster than before.
‘Gone now, my little goddess,’ Murdow said. There was a dragging sound, and Jenny envisioned Murdow dragging the body of a honnard. Of course, he’d have used his venom to kill it and cause the others to run in fear. They wouldn’t be able to help her. They were peaceful, not used to fighting, only hunting. Their size, their eerie call was contradictory to how they lived. She turned away, squeezing closed her eyes but tears seeped out and coursed do
wn her cheeks.
The next howl made her jump, and afraid of making a sound, she hugged her knees closer as hope added buoyancy to her heart.
More howling, and the footsteps came back. A lot of footsteps.
Murdow was pacing the area. ‘Come out of your hiding place, goddess,’ he said. His pacing stopped. ‘Are you up a tree? Peering down at me, eh?’ There was silence, and then small noises as if he was throwing something up at the trees. ‘Don’t make me come and find you, goddess. Show yourself and I’ll be gentle with you. We’re surrounded by Orwains by the way, goddess. You’re going to get yourself eaten. Such a waste.’ There was a thunk! and a screech as he threw something and it hit its target. His footsteps quickened, and then nothing but the rustle of a tree as he climbed somewhere above her. She thought about creeping out, and making a run towards the honnards or Orwains, or whatever he called them, but knew his Jelvian eyes would easily notice her sneaking out. He’d soon jump down and come after her again.
The honnards howled. They seemed to have surrounded the thicket where she and the Jelvia were. Hope almost overwhelmed her. But at the back of her mind she knew that these could be another species of native entirely. Maybe more like the wolves, either way, they’d be strangers to her, and she’d possibly be prey. Primitive people or not, they have the characteristics of animals—long, sharp teeth, claws and a liking for fresh, raw meat.
Something went thwack! and a spear struck the ground where it stood vibrating. It had speared a few large leaves as it soared through the tree, but missed its target—Murdow. He cursed, and there was rustling as he climbed back down the tree.
‘Goddess! We have to go now. NOW!’
His feet landed just within her eyesight. He wore handmade boots; large feet. Probably a size fifteen.
Another spear flew through the trees, this one made contact and caused him to fall to the ground. He cursed, and touched his head where it had caught him a glancing blow. He made as if to get up, but caught sight of the hollowed out tree. She spotted him looking through the gloom of her shelter to see the hollow beyond. Another spear sailed in, and Murdow jumped to his feet cursing angrily.
