William Keith Renegades Honor

by Renegade's Honor

  By the end of his third work shift, he was so tired and sore that he could scarcely move. By now he was also as naked and dirty as the rest of the miners of 12-3. T.C. had been right. Old taboos or not, he simply did not care about his nakedness and neither did anyone else.

  In fact, his appearance brought with it a certain comforting anonymity. Where before his black uniform and boots had set him apart from the rest, now he was literally one of the gang. Even Van had stopped scowling at him. In a sense, Kendric's uniform had been his entrance fee into an exclusive club. By allowing it to be torn into strips, he had provided the entire barracks with new headbands, the single essential piece of equipment that no crystal miner would ever be caught without. The bands kept sweat and mud out of the eyes in the incessant, near-100 percent humidity of the caverns. The slaves often pulled them down over the ears, too, to protect hearing assaulted by the bang and rattle of heavy machinery. The headbands of some of the miners had rotted away to almost nothing, and Kendric learned that the only way to replace them was to sacrifice the clothing of new arrivals.

  The living facilities were worse than primitive. Sanitary facilities in the "barracks" consisted of a trickle of water from a pipe into a trench in the floor. The water could be caught in cupped hands for drinking or to rinse the mud from sodden headbands. The trickle also served to flush urine and excrement out of the trench and into a fissure that extended down into the mountain for hundreds of meters. That is, when the trench was not clogged up with mud and waste, which was frequently. The usual punishment for a barracks that failed to meet its quota of rock sent to the surface was to cut off the trickle of water. After a week, T.C. explained, the miners were reduced to drinking the foul, sulfur and mud-laden water in the Pit, and the stench in the barracks itself was overpowering.

  If sanitation was bad, health care was non-existent. When a miner became too sick to stand, or injured himself badly enough that he could not work, a pair of custos carried him away and he was never seen again. Each barracks was on its own as far as caring for its own sick and cleaning up after them. Barracks D was a good one, a fact that Kendric credited to T.C.'s subtle management and morale. The mud floor was kept as clean as conditions permitted, and the vomit and wastes of miners too sick to move were always cleaned up by rotating work crews that T.C. enlisted. Conditions in some barracks were far worse, making them infamous for their high death rates and rapid turn-over of new miners.

  T.C. was not officially the leader of Barracks D, but she was certainly the most outgoing and outspoken of the group and, just possibly, the most determined to live. Even when exhausted, Kendric looked forward to his talks with her as though T.C. were the one part of this mountain hell that made it possible for him to continue life. She, for her part, seemed just as happy to talk.

  "Then we're actually inside the throat of an extinct volcano?" Kendric asked, one "evening" after the work shift was ended.

  "Oh, it's not extinct at all, Kendric. Merely dormant. Sleeping."

  "What's the difference?"

  "Good question. If it's extinct, it will never erupt again. If it's only dormant, someday it will erupt again."

  Kendric suppressed a-shudder. "How often are these mines taken out that way?"

  She moved her shoulders in a half-shrug. "None of us know. We never see our masters, you know."

  "Uh? What about Lynch and his bosses?"

  She made a face. "Them? Didn't you know? They're slaves, just like the rest of us."

  "But they've got clothes...food. I thought..."

  "That just means they're responsible for doling out the supplies we do get. Where do you think Lynch got all those scars.. .lost all his hair? He was a miner for two years up on Level 1... At least, so they say. The scars are from acid burns. The acid in the water is a lot more concentrated up there."

  "How did he become the.. .the leader of all this?"

  "He survived. He became a team leader, then a boss.. .and then the toggies picked him as their representative here. Hey, you don't think any TOG bureaucrat is going to risk his precious neck sitting on a volcano, do you? No, this facility is 100 percent owned and operated by the people.. .meaning us slaves. Not that it makes it any easier for the rest of us." She looked thoughtful. "That could be part of their incentive program, I guess. Survive long enough, and you can work your way up in the world. Lynch certainly has."

  Kendric worried the thought around for hours after that. The notion that slaves could be set up to manage other slaves was a shocking one. More shocking was the change he perceived in his own attitude toward TOG.

  His impressions of the TOG Imperium had been formed in the early days of TOG's arrival in the Gael Cluster, then reinforced during his years at Kathlandi Primus and Grelfhaven. It wasn't that he was blind to the flaws in Imperial civilization. Among these flaws the almost universal TOG prejudice against "provincials" was the one that touched him directly. Yet, the order and prosperity TOG brought to the Galaxy seemed to outweigh such minor faults in the system.

  Now, for the first time, Kendric was beginning to believe that perhaps he hadn't seen all that there was to the TOG Imperium. Although he had been aware of slaves, he had never thought about slavery as an institution. He had heard that something like a quarter of the Imperium's population were slaves, yet the reality of it had never registered on him. He had known few slaves personally during his entire Imperial career, for they were not allowed aboard Naval warships and were rarely seen at military installations. In fact, the only slaves Kendric had ever seen were the domestic servants in the homes of some of his wealthier classmates at school and at the Academy. With the bias against provincials, he had not often been invited into the wealthiest homes, those boasting large staffs of domestics. Nor had Kendric ever stopped to ponder origins of the ore used to grow laser crystals.

  Gennarite was the basic ore, a dull, gray-brown rock with a soft and crumbly texture. It was a complex compound of gennium—itself a compound of germanium and hafnium—and one of several arsenic compounds, all locked in a porous basaltic substrate. The compound could be artificially manufactured, but only at great expense. It was cheaper to mine it in quantity where it occurred naturally.

  Gennium-arsenide was created in the relatively low heat and high pressures of cooling volcanic vents. The ore was not stable and tended to break down rapidly in the high-acid, high-sulfide conditions common to the geology of volcanic hotspots. These facts Kendric had learned at the Academy, for gennium-arsenide was a valuable resource in the Imperial economy. Purified gennium-arsenide in solution was used to seed crystal chambers in special zero-G plants. The products of these "crystal gardens" made exceptionally high-quality exciter cores for laser weapons and tools, thermic triggers for fusion warheads, and pulse generator modulators for VLC antennae arrays. What Kendric had not studied in school was that the production of these crystals depended on the labor of millions of slaves across the Galaxy, working unceasingly under the most gruesome conditions.

  Kendric's opinions about the TOG Empire were changing rapidly.

  Elliot and Morganen were once more using the HV display in Morganen's cabin. Facing them on the projector plate was a bowl-shaped depression at the top of a cone-shaped mountain. Inside the crater, they also saw clustered buildings and a crude spaceport field in photographic detail.

  "The only way into the mountain is through the workings up here in the crater," Morganen said. "We've identified the main entrance, a ramp leading to the vault door in the middle, and we've identified their storage area for cargo containers carrying raw gennium ore."

  He indicated row upon row of tiny, box-like shapes at the very edge of visibility in the projection, stacked in an out-of-the-way corner of the complex. "The containers are sealed before they're stored. They have to be, because the rain on Haetai-Aleph is highly acidic, and the air is loaded with God-only-knows-what sulfur compounds. Both break down gennium ore rapidly. Apparently, freighters call here every so often to pick the stuff up."

>   "That's how my informant got these holographs," Elliot said quietly. "He had a contract to pick up a load as part of a convoy to Talgore. He took this shot during his approach."

  "And lifted the computer data on Kendric by tapping into the port computer, no doubt."

  Elliot smiled. "He is a talented man. If he spent half as much effort on legal endeavors as he does on..."

  "Yeah, well, we've decided that the ore depot on the surface is the key to your operation. Obviously, there's no way to be sure when Kendric is going to be on the surface, and even if there was, we'd have the devil's own time trying to find him and get him out. So, here's the idea.

  "We make the approach in a destroyer and a smaller craft, either a frigate or a corvette. Right now, we're basing our planning around the Gaidheal and the Damadas. Gaidheal becomes our high-guard space support, as well as the launch platform for one squadron of fighters. The frigate Damadas will approach the mountaintop on gravs."

  "Ah! You're planning a trade, then. The frigate will ground troops to seize the ore containers?"

  "I'm not sure we can get troops, Citizen. The Alban Special Forces Militia would be ideal for an operation like that, but they're under the direct command of the TOG governor now. I don't see how we could move them without attracting more comment than I think you're going to want for this rescue."

  "True."

  "All that's needed, though, is the threat of our destroying those containers. Gennium-arsenide is incredibly valuable, even in its raw form. If the Damadas is close enough to the ore containers, the local defenses aren't likely to target the ship for fear of blowing up a few million tals' worth of the stuff. And we might be able to persuade the guy in charge of the facility to bring Kendric up alive and unharmed if the Damadas's primary ventral batteries are locked onto those containers."

  "A desperate plan," Elliot said softly, stroking his chin. "Desperate... but it sounds like it might work. You've planned your escape?"

  "The Damadas will take Kendric aboard on the ground, if possible. However, it has been suggested that the Damadas might have to stay airborne in order to keep up the threat to the ore. We have a volunteer who will pilot a shuttle off the Damadas and ground nearby. He'll help the Captain if he's injured... and provide a back-up off the planet if the Damadas is damaged or can't land safely."

  "Good," Elliot said, narrowing his eyes. "Good thinking."

  "If there's time, we'll transfer the Captain to the Gaidheal in orbit. If he's in the shuttle, we'll have to transfer him anyway, and the Gaidheal has longer T-space legs than the Damadas. We boost for T-space, vectoring for a navigational referent well off the line of flight to Alba. Then we'll change course and boost again for home. With luck, they might decide we've gone off in another direction entirely. We'll plan it so our last jump into Haetai's system is a short one, with most of our shimmertau burned off. That will give us maximum range and flexibility when we jump for home."

  "Sounds like you have everything covered."

  "As far as we can. Can you get those two ships detached for us?"

  "I've been working in Arada's office as a civilian advisor. I should be able to have those two detached to duty with an Imperial fleet somewhere. Those orders will be coming anyway, sooner or later. We'll just arrange things so that we can use the orders as a cover. It'll be tricky when you come back to Alba, of course..."

  Morganen looked worried. "What I don't understand is why we have to bring the Captain back to the Gael Cluster at all. Surely the TOG people you're afraid of will expect us to do just that? And how long before someone realizes that it was the Damadas and the Gaidheal that took part in the raid... and that a few days later, they're back in the Gael Cluster?"

  "We have to bring him back here to a rendezvous, Commander. The Gaidheal and the Damadas have to join the little flotilla I've been organizing here."

  "Flotilla? What flotilla?"

  "You're right when you say Kendric can't stay here. After this raid, we can't, either. We have to leave...permanently. Find a new home."

  Morganen nodded slowly. "I figured you had that in mind, Citizen, what with your talk about the crew's families yesterday. Have you decided yet?"

  "Decided what?"

  "Whether or not to tell me where we're going. You'll have to at some point.. .though maybe you'd rather not risk my getting captured and spilling something important."

  "My friend, if you get captured, the whole plan is at risk."

  "Dammit, I have to know!"

  "Agreed...and you will. But more depends on this plan than you realize."

  "Like what?"

  Elliot's face took on a grave, troubled expression. "Things...are moving quickly, down in the Governor's office. There are plans for taking over the Gael Confederation government...abolishing your Parliament..."

  "For God's sake, why?"

  'To exercise more direct control. You see, TOG can't afford to allow the Gaels to remain autonomous... and conscious of themselves as Gaels rather than as Imperial citizens. The dangers of discontent— and possible revolt—are too great."

  Morganen's eyes widened. "You told me once that they were thinking of evacuating the entire cluster..."

  "I thought that wouldn't happen for years yet. But I was wrong. They have plans underway already."

  "But you're Special Administrator! Can't you stop them?"

  Elliot laughed. "I'm one man, working in the Governor's office, and I have to be damned careful what I do... and what I say. No, I can' t do anything. Certainly, I can't change policy that has been set by one of Caesar's Overlords."

  The enormity of what Elliot was saying seeped only slowly into Morganen's awareness. His very way of life was on the verge of destruction, and he was helpless in the face of it.

  "So what do we do about it? Great God, man, you wouldn't be talking to me if there wasn't something to be done!"

  "We have to leave," Elliot said simply. "But first, I want to rescue Kendric Fraser. He could well be the key to the survival of your people."

  Operation Gael is set to begin almost at once. Two Aldebaran Class freighters have been dispatched from Freumgar to Alba, while a massive public-relations campaign has been mounted to encourage the citizens of the Confederation that it is in their best interests to leave.

  The majority of the population seems to accept this, perhaps because they do not yet fully realize what a diaspora among millions of worlds would mean.

  —Report filed by agent Clarity, to Commonwealth Intelligence, Cathandra, Source: Classified: Most Secret, 18 Sep 6830

  "What do you think of TOG?"

  T.C. stared at Kendric, her expression showing a mixture of surprise, anger, and exasperation. Then she laughed, a sharp, bitter sound. "You can't be serious!"

  The look in her eyes made him turn away, toward the jagged line of the surrounding mountain rim. It was the first of Kendric's twenty-shift breaks, his first time to "see the sky." He had asked T.C. to spend some of the time with him.

  She had agreed, but her mood was grim. One of the women in D Barracks had died painfully in T.C.'s arms the night before, coughing blood. A longtime occupant of D Barracks, the woman had appeared to be in her fifties. Kendric was startled to learn she had been in her early thirties.. .a commercial navigational programmer whom a TOG informer had named as an agent for the Renegade Underground.

  Seeing the depth of T.C.'s grief, Kendric felt his own exhaustion and despair deepen. The fact that T.C.'s spirit was close to breaking seemed to sap his own small store of hope. They had passed the first hours of their break in washing the dried filth from their bodies, in eating, and then in a long, deep sleep on the thin mattresses provided in the surface barracks.

  Now, many hours later, they were walking away from the barracks and up a low rise toward the nearest rimwall on the mountain top. The sky had gone violet, shading to deep indigo at its zenith, while a fresh breeze seemed to have cleared the air of the worst of the sulfur stench and ash. The stars were clearly visible even
though the distant sun was still up, but they seemed scattered and dim compared to the brilliance of a clear night on Alba.

  There was danger on the surface, of course. T.C. warned Kendric of a native Alephian creature called a fleshly, a three-centimeter winged and armored pseudocrustacean that entered unprotected flesh like a bullet, eating its way into its host until the alien biochemistry poisoned it. The larva from the eggs it laid took longer to die, for some reason. The only way to deal with them was to bribe a friendly custie to cook the wound with his powergun set on low. Bribery of guards, it seemed, was possible even here. Sexual favors were the universal currency of exchange.

  Danger or not, Kendric's relief at seeing stars and sky once more was overwhelming. Now he could understand what T.C. had said once told him. Here was the one place on Grod where one could look past stone walls and hopeless faces, past mud, volcanic debris, and cramped, filthy huts, past even the horror of the tripods with their suffering victims. The one place on Grod where the imagination could glimpse another universe.

  It was the knowledge of those tripods that had almost persuaded Kendric to forego his time on the surface. There was a not-so-subtle TOG psychology at work in the fact that this brief respite was also a reminder of who controlled life and death on Grod. Though slaves granted their twenty-hour break were not allowed to approach the place where other slaves were slowly dying, on pain of joining them, the moans could be heard everywhere within the mountaintop crater.