by Darrell Bain
“I hope that demonstration, and seeing how this being threw himself into the jaws of the dinosaur to save my life, is enough to make it clear that no matter how frightening the creatures of this place look, they are intelligent. They fight only when provoked, as I saw you doing when we arrived. Wouldn't it be better to follow our example and make friends with them?” Her mind roved the crowd and felt the shame rising from most of them at having allowed themselves to be led into yielding to their fear instead of using their minds to overcome it.
“Who the hell are you?” a gruff voice asked from the middle of the crowd.
“I'm Lyda Brightner. I'm the leader of this group. I can't order you around but I'll tell you plainly that I will become very angry if I see anyone abusing the beings different from us for no good reason."
The one who had questioned her stepped forward. He was a burly dark-skinned man with black wiry hair and a lopsided nose. Thin scars decorated his cheekbones and around his eyes. He sensed something different about Lyda but was too confident in himself to stop and think. Lyda immediately tagged him as a boxer, perhaps a little past his prime but still capable of getting into a ring—or cowing those around him with his prowess. She touched his mind with hers and found a powerful, driving intelligence mixed with an aberrant sense of satisfaction from having power over others.
“I don't give a damn what you say,” he snarled. “We ain't sucking up to no spiders or rats or goddamned dinosaurs either. You hear?"
“I heard,” Lyda answered calmly. “And I'm sure you heard me."
The man stepped forward quickly and grabbed Lyda by the front of her blouse. A button she had painstakingly fastened with scavenged thread popped free. Lyda made no move to avoid his advance or his hands, but as soon as he had a good hold on the lapels of her blouse, she gripped him by the hips and raised him high over her head. He yelled and let loose of her blouse and attempted to strike at her with doubled fists.
Lyda tossed him away as if he weighed no more than a feather pillow. He hit the ground and lay there for a moment, disorientated, but not really stunned. His body and mind had changed, too. He shook his head and got back to his feet, gimlet eyes trying to bore holes in her. He charged Lyda like a maddened bull, forgetting the fact that he was adept with his fists and suffused with new strength imbued to his body by the aliens. He should have approached cautiously, but he couldn't believe someone so small could have thrown him about like a rag doll, and a girl at that.
Lyda met his charge calmly, knowing already she was the stronger of the two, despite his being male. She twisted while ducking a swing designed to tear her head off and used his momentum to lever his body up and over. He flew through the air in a wild tangle of arms and legs and hit the ground again with a solid thump. He tried to get back up, but Lyda was on him quicker than a pup after a steak bone.
It wasn't really a fight. Not only was Lyda the stronger of the two, despite his own improved male muscle, but she had mastered the martial arts taught in the classes she had organized. Two minutes later, he was bloody and thoroughly subdued, just barely conscious. She waited a few minutes until he could walk, then pointed to the horizon. “Get going. We don't want to see you again."
“No, it's murder out there by yourself!"
“Nonsense. I already know you're the one who instigated these other people into fighting the beings here without even trying to avoid it. You can either change your attitude, or let the animals here kill you; I don't really care either way. Now go, and don't come back or I'll kill you myself."
The man looked helplessly for support from his erstwhile supporters. None of them made a move, nor said a word in his defense. However, several did speak up about others who had traveled with them.
“Gordo's had that coming for a long time,” a woman with a fading bruise beside her eye said. “Jetner's no better, either.” She pointed toward a black man with long arms and a partially bald head.
Lyda reached out to his mind and saw that, if anything, he was worse. Like the thug she had just defeated, he had survived on strength and cunning but lacked the innate intelligence of the other one. She pointed her finger at him. “You can go, too."
“What if I don't want to, bitch?” His accent was pure American.
“Then I'll beat you to a pulp and you'll go anyway; maybe with a few broken bones to help you remember me by."
The black man could sense the auras of attitudes and capabilities to a degree, though at a much lower level than Lyda. He could feel power and determination emanating from her almost like a force of nature. He took a step forward and sensed Lyda tensing her body, getting ready for him. He stopped; his bravery came from abusing those weaker than himself and supporting those who were stronger. He turned and trudged off.
“Who else here isn't fit company for human beings?” Lyda asked loudly with her gaze seeking out two more individuals her mind touch had already told her were evil. She wanted the former followers of the thugs to rouse themselves to speak up. With her leading the way, they did. A woman who was named spit in her direction and stalked away with her nose in the air, making a spectacle of her disdain, but Lyda and everyone else could sense her mind skittering around like a drop of water on a hot skillet as she began wondering how she was going to survive. The third man she ordered to leave started off as if to pass her, then suddenly attacked, but she had sensed his intentions well in advance. It wasn't much of a fight. A minute later, he was on his way, nursing a broken arm and walking hunched over from the pain in his groin where Lyda had kicked him.
Lyda doubted that any of them would last the day without cohorts to help them. She thought they had probably gathered some support before running into their first dinosaur. She allowed them to get out of sight before speaking again, using the time to let the new people consider what had happened and to reflect on their past involvement with the four miscreants. While they were thinking, she was, too. It seemed to her that there must be many fewer sociopaths and ordinary crooks and villains now than when she was first captured by the aliens, but she still kept running into them. It indicated there might also be fewer people like her who eliminated or neutralized the troublemakers when they could. It made the fact finally sink in that regardless of how far most of the survivors had progressed, there were still many more followers than leaders, and always would be.
Nevertheless, she also knew that most of the captives who had survived were good people; they only needed good leaders to direct them. And from talking with her own followers along the way who had survived separately from her, she knew there were other leaders somewhere, perhaps ones better than herself. In the meantime, the people standing in front of her were waiting to see what came next.
* * *
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Within a few days, Lyda was extremely happy with the way the new group integrated with her original smaller one and had sloughed off the malevolent influence of the ones who misled them. It gave her hope that the majority of all the survivors, even the ones she had never met, would be able to do the same. If they survived. There had been many, many deaths in the habitats she had been in, and she knew from what others said, it had been the same elsewhere. This place was the most inimical yet, so far as deaths were concerned. The majority of humans simply could not force themselves to coexist with what looked to them like insects, reptiles and caricatures of every beast they had ever had nightmares about.
Lyda did the best she could. As usual, she found herself so busy that for a long while, her only concern was directing and organizing and bringing new people they found under her influence. Lyda was hoping they could learn to at least treat the other creatures in a benign manner, even if they had to be shown over and over.
Shaguff recovered and he and Spidey and the Hive were a great help in her crusade for coexistence and cooperation. They became such familiar figures around the camp she set up that hardly anyone shrank from their presence any more. Lyda used them frequently when contacting other gangs of humans
her scouting expeditions turned up, but surprisingly, they were needed less and less often. Bones and mummified remains marked the end of most of the humans who couldn't get along with the other inhabitants. Gordo, the ex-boxer she had defeated, must have been lucky enough to gather a lot of people around him right at the beginning, using safety in numbers to stay alive, because his remains turned up a few days later, the tooth marks still evident on his body.
Lyda met a number of other persons who were directing groups of humans. None of them were unfriendly and certainly not hostile. She set up an affiliation among them to try to learn as much as they could about the place, and to exchange information. Some came to accept her as the head of the loose confederacy but she didn't attempt to make it official; there was no need for that. She gave advice when asked and occasionally sought help herself. She realized she still had much to learn and wasn't at all loath to admit it.
There were not as many different species of intelligent creatures in the miles wide cavern as were living on the great mushroom plains. The intelligent dinosaurs were the dominant species, but certainly not the only one. They fed on ruminants who grazed the grasslands and made little contact with humans, but neither did they bother them once Lyda's influence spread and they learned people were no longer a threat. The other intelligent species seemed to take note and proved to be little trouble unless attacked.
The lack of adequate water was the source of more dissatisfaction than anything else. In the whole area, there were only a few small pools, and they were reserved for drinking. They were considered a neutral area; even the ruminants were allowed to drink there without fear of being hunted. Waste disposal was a problem until someone discovered the depressions between the small grassy rises in the terrain worked well for that purpose. The upper portion of freshly cut grass served as an unsatisfactory and barely functional cleansing material but it was all they found to use.
At last Lyda managed to find time for relaxation, but that brought another problem into play, one becoming very familiar. Ivan began paying her more attention than she liked.
“You're a beautiful woman,” he said to her one day as they were sitting beside a campfire of twisted grass, waiting on the haunch of a ruminant to finish cooking. Humans found them as tasty as the dinos did.
“Thank you, Ivan. It would be nice to be able to bathe in warm water again, or even see my reflection in a pool. I have no idea what I look like now."
“I just told you. You're beautiful, even without the makeup women use to enhance their looks. Any man will tell you so if you ask."
“I'm not really a woman yet, Ivan. I'm still a girl."
“What! You are a woman, believe me."
Lyda had known Ivan's advance was coming. He was fun to be with, a good leader and he was gradually freeing himself of the dark moods he was sometimes prone to. But he was too volatile for Lyda's taste. She wanted steadiness and certitude and a quiet intelligence in a man. Someone like Gavin, she thought. She often wondered what he would be like now. Had he grown inside as much as her? Did he remember her as fondly as she did him? Or was he even still alive? There was no way of knowing, but Ivan's last remark gave her a gentle way to discourage his attentions.
She grinned at him. “Ivan, to the best of my calculations, I'm barely sixteen—if that old."
“I don't believe it!” But then he couldn't avoid knowing, for he saw it in her mind. His countenance drooped like a poker player who had just gone bust.
“I'm sorry, Ivan. I'm really not ready for romance right now. And even if I were, I'm afraid. The aliens will be back, you know, and we'll all be separated again."
“All the more reason to take what honest pleasure we can find. But sixteen? You could be my daughter!"
“You'd make a good father,” Lyda told him, and meant it. Other than his occasional depression, he functioned as well and as happily as any man she had known, and better than most. She thought he would be good with children if he ever had any.
“Thank you. However, I believe I would prefer to wait a few years and become your husband."
Lyda laughed hard enough to induce him to join her. When they quieted, she said, quite honestly, “It's a possibility. The future holds infinite potential, and judging by the way our bodies have changed, we may live a very long time—if we survive whatever the aliens have in store for us.” She touched his shoulder, then his cheek and turned his head to face her. She kissed him on the mouth in a friendly fashion, then got to her feet to tend the meat. It was about done and the aroma was tantalizing.
* * * *
As if she had been waiting in line, Ruth was the next supplicant for Lyda's attentions. What was worse, Lyda could easily tell that the woman was truly in love with her. She waited until after Ruth's first advance, thinking that would be the best time to discourage her.
“I'm sorry, Ruth dear. I'm not even ready for a man yet, much less a woman."
“You don't like me because I prefer women?"
“Ruth, you know that doesn't enter into it. Can't you tell?"
“Yes. I guess I was just fooling myself. I never saw you with a man and...” Her voice trailed off.
“It's all right. I'm not upset with you. In fact, it's a compliment."
“Thank you.” Ruth changed the subject. “We're going to have some more babies soon."
“I know,” Lyda said.
Several women were pregnant. They had even found a few here who had arrived pregnant, from deliberate intent, despite the harsh environments and the knowledge of how very many young children had perished over the last few years. Lyda admired the women who had conceived tremendously. They were a tribute to the spirit of the couples who refused to surrender to pessimism about the future.
“I think I'd like to start a nursery, to give the women some time by themselves,” Ruth said. “I love children but I know how much attention they demand."
“That would be great,” Lyda replied. She should have thought of the idea herself. Anything to keep the people happy and optimistic.
* * * *
With some time to spare and no romance in the offing, Lyda decided they should explore the area of the metallic floors with the irregular artificial extrusions growing from it, even though those who had arrived there first had reported it was lifeless—but they hadn't gone far. She left Ivan in charge and took Soo and a few other persons she thought were getting bored. She made sure they all carried enough supplies to last for a week or so, but had to scrounge the group to find enough water containers to last them for that long.
Lyda led her little contingent out of the grasslands and back into the great hallway they had come through long ago. They stopped once to sleep and load up on shrub berries at the edge of the barren expanse of metal she wanted to explore. From that position, the extrusions blended into what appeared to be a solid barrier on the horizon, but was only an illusion, like a forest would appear to be a solid mass if one looked far enough into it.
One day out, the aliens came again.
* * * *
The spider mechs appeared as they were preparing to rest and sleep for a few hours. Lyda had been aware of a faint vibration in the air for several hours but hadn't been able to attribute it to any particular source. As the spiders began herding them back the way they had come, she discovered the vibration had simply been the trampling of many feet on the metal surface, hurried along by the threatening mandibles of the spider mechs. The spiders had apparently herded everyone out of the grassland cavern, as well as from the mushroom plains, and brought them all to the area of the metallic surface.
In the distance, the same type of oval-shaped transport craft, which had brought them to this habitat, began swarming in numbers too great to count. Lyda dreaded their appearance, remembering the tight overcrowding when they had been brought to this place, but told her companions not to resist. She had never seen anyone get away from the spider mechs, not while they were still breathing.
Surprisingly, the transport conta
ined so few people, it was actually roomy, and there were padded seats that reclined at a touch into beds. Once the entrance closed behind them, she sat and braced herself for the familiar surges and gravity changes, but they were absent, too. She couldn't even be sure they were going anywhere, but doubted the aliens would go to the trouble of getting them into the transports, then simply let them sit still.
There were facilities for bathing and waste disposal at either end of the ship, unlike the last trip. Lyda took the opportunity to wash her hair and get really clean for the first time in what seemed like ages. She used a little wooden comb an admirer had carved for her to unsnarl the tangles, ignoring anyone who might be staring at her naked body. She was so grateful for the wealth of water that she didn't even attempt to touch the other minds and find out whether anyone was looking. She knew it wouldn't have mattered greatly if they were; the nudity taboo hadn't disappeared, but it had been considerably altered by circumstances.
The craft even furnished clothing, apparently designed for each of the dozen individuals inside. It was unisex trousers with a brief undergarment and blouses or shirts that buttoned. The tops for women could be tightened under the breasts for support if it were needed or wanted. Lyda didn't bother. If strenuous activity became necessary, she could pull the simple fastenings into place quickly.
The whole episode was so different from previous changes that Lyda found herself expecting even more strife and danger than usual when they arrived at their destination. Wherever they were going, it was taking longer than other journeys in the transports had. Lyda tried to relax, eat the palatable meals that arrived from slotted compartments at irregular intervals, and bathe long and often. All the while, she waited for the ax to fall.
* * * *
Lyda heard excited voices and woke to a feeling of lightness. She sat up quickly and the momentum carried her body into the air. She drifted back to the deck in slow motion and didn't move quite as fast the next time. Around her, one couple was locked together and flailing at the air, looking for something to grab. Others were glancing around curiously and holding onto whatever support they could find.
