by Natalie Grey
No one knew to be afraid of them.
He did not know it, but Barnabas was having similar thoughts. Aliens with such brittle bones that they apparently did not walk on crowded streets should surely not have risen to prominence, should they? Barnabas thought not.
The universe was endlessly confounding.
To Gar’s surprise, the Ranger’s first question was, “Is it true that your people do not make music?”
“It is true.” Gar inclined his head. “Although some develop a taste for it.” He lifted one shoulder as if to say he did not understand that at all. “It seems always to be a surprise when other aliens learn of it. Humans make music then, I take it?”
“We do,” Barnabas confirmed.
“Why? I have never been clear on the purpose of it. Surely there are more productive ways to spend time.”
Barnabas considered the matter, which surprised Gar. He expected the human to be far more brusque and tell him it was none of his business or not important. Instead, he seemed to be deciding how best to explain the matter.
“Do you tell stories?” he asked finally. “Fictional stories? Legends, perhaps?”
“Yes.” Though Gar had hated those. They were repetitive, with the poorly-disguised moral that one should stay at home on Luvendan.
Barnabas looked intently at the expression on Gar’s face. “Did you never have emotions so strong you could not find words to describe them?” he asked curiously. “Did you never encounter a truth so profound that it could not be told directly? Music, like stories, helps us say things we could not say any other way.”
Gar considered this…and came to the inescapable conclusion that all other aliens were quite mad. “You mean to say that this music tells you stories?”
“Not precisely, although sometimes it does. It evokes strong emotions. It helps us praise God.”
Gar blinked.
The alien mimicked his shrug. “If it is of no use to you, then it isn’t. I was merely curious. In the meantime, we should discuss your return to the mine.”
Gar felt a jolt of panic.
“I will need you to return,” Barnabas told him, “and do a few things for me. For one, you will take this communications unit and provide me with information when I require it. We will determine a time of day for regular communications.”
He handed the unit to Gar and indicated that the Luvendi should come into the ship with him. They went back the way they had come in, presumably toward the very strange shuttlecraft with no visible propulsion.
“In addition,” Barnabas said, “when I arrive you will help convince Lan to admit me to the grounds.”
“What should I say?”
“You know him best. Say whatever will convince him.” Barnabas led the way into the shuttle bay and gestured to one of the black Pods. “Additionally, you will make yourself aware of security patterns. Guard rotations, who is sloppy and who is methodical, where the best and worst places would be to defend the mines. Anything you do not know already you will make yourself aware of. I will at some point want to hear a report on the strengths and weaknesses of the mine’s security.”
Gar stepped into the Pod, considering.
“And if I don’t cooperate?” That was not his intent, but he wanted to know what would happen if the human believed Gar had failed him.
He was immediately sorry he had asked.
Barnabas’s face clouded over. “Then I will do what must be done without your help.”
The words were mild, but the intent was clear.
Gar shuddered as the door closed and he was alone in a Pod hurtling toward the planet below.
Aebura had just finished polishing several glasses when the human walked into her bar once again.
She said nothing, but settled down on the bar and wrapped her tail tight around her feet. She was not sure how she felt about him being back. The last time he’d come he’d chased Gar away, and such a disturbance might affect her bar. It might even ripple back to the mine somehow.
Besides, she had been working up her courage to speak to him. She had come to the decision that she could not wait any longer. She had to take action to find the mine—no one knew precisely where the mines were—and free people.
She didn’t have a plan yet, but she knew what had to be done.
“Hello, Aebura,” the human began courteously. “Do you have time to speak with me about the mines you mentioned?”
Aebura considered this, and let her fur fluff up and then smooth out. She was gratified that he had remembered her name and willing to hear him out.
To her surprise, the human seemed to understand the gesture. He took a seat at the bar and asked, “Should I keep my voice low?”
“As a precaution, yes.” Aebura was curious. “What happened with Venfaldri Gar?”
The human smiled, and it did not look like a particularly kind smile. “He went back to the mines, but he now works for me.”
That’s an optimistic assessment of the situation.
Not now, Shinigami.
Aebura’s tail lashed. “Why would you trust him?”
You see? Shinigami asked. She understands.
What did I just say?
To Aebura Barnabas replied, “Because I have asked for his help in a very limited capacity, and he knows that his only chance of mercy lies in fulfilling my requests. More accurately…” He sighed. “Never mind.”
“I would like to know,” Aebura assured him.
“Very well. I want his help, but it is not that which will give him a chance at mercy. What I must see from him is an understanding of the wrong he has done, and the will and effort to set it right—and never do such things again. Will he do it?” Barnabas shrugged elegantly. “I don’t know. However, I trust him to do the things I asked him to do for me.”
“What did you ask him to do?”
Barnabas explained the plan quickly. It was only a brief overview, but it covered the points that would be relevant to her. At the end Barnabas asked, “Is there anything you think I should know before I visit the mine?”
Aebura did not hesitate. “You should take me with you.”
“Are you sure that’s wise?”
“Yes. They can’t tell us apart anyway. And we’re useful. We can climb things and steal things, get into places where they don’t think we’ll fit.”
Barnabas smiled. “Perhaps I will call on you to come to the mine, then. But not yet, I think. You are safe from the mine now, and you told me that this business was meant to employ and house your fellow workers. Do not jeopardize that yet.”
“What use is it if they do not escape?”
“Aebura, I promise you this: if I need your help in order to free them I will ask for it. For now, I am not asking because I believe I can free them without putting you in danger.”
Aebura considered the human’s words and wavered slightly. She wanted to do this herself. She knew Gar underestimated her, and therefore she might have a small advantage.
But this human had been able to make Gar turn to his side, something Aebura would never have considered possible. She had to ask herself if he underestimated her or just had no reason to fear her. That made her feel very small.
Barnabas guessed what she was thinking. “In a perfect world, Aebura, you and I would not have met this way. But we don’t live in a perfect world, and so I use my talents to stop injustice. There is no shame in not being like me. I have, shall we say, talents that make me well-suited to this job.”
And a ship with guided missiles. Let’s not forget that.
Let’s not spread it around everywhere, either. You know what’s better than taking someone out with missiles?
Nothing.
Wrong. Taking someone out with missiles they didn’t even know you had.
I could accept that as a theory. The looks of surprise must be priceless.
Shinigami. If you use missiles, you don’t want to be standing close enough to see the looks on their faces.
Aebur
a scratched contemplatively at the puffs of fur on her cheeks as a thought occurred to her. “If you disabled the radio device the Ubuara would be able to communicate with one another again. Lan doesn’t like to do work, so he never goes out to check the equipment. It’s either Gar or the security teams that keep an eye on it.”
“That’s good to know, thank you. Having people who can communicate silently about security guards and so on would be very useful.”
“Oh, yes!” Aebura bared her teeth in what Barnabas assumed was an Ubuara smile. “That’s why they don’t want us to be able to do it. Also, you should talk to Leiguba.”
“Who is he or she?”
“He is another Ubuara, and someone who was always very angry about the injustices.” Her tail lashed angrily. “If you see him… If you see him, tell him I have not forgotten him, and that I will help him. I have no right to say it, having left him there for so long, but... I am doing what I can to make it better now.”
“I will tell him,” Barnabas promised.
The past few nights had been chilly, and Leiguba curled gratefully into the huddle of Ubuara in one of the huts, using their body heat to help keep himself warm. His body, aching after a day of working in the mines, began to relax slightly.
Even this felt hollow, however. If this were home or anywhere else that Ubuara could live as they were meant to he would be surrounded by emotion and the warmth of thoughts, not just bodies.
At home, he would have heard his younger sister murmuring to herself sleepily as she drifted off. Her thoughts at night were always cozy—what she’d had for dinner, the way her feet were tucked tightly against her to stay warm. His father liked to plan for the next day, and he was logical and precise. His mother drifted to sleep so quickly that all Leiguba felt from her were little moments of emotion from her dreams. His sister told him that his thoughts felt like wind through the trees on a summer night, a contemplative search through the day’s memories like a breeze rustling leaves.
He should have known these Ubuara that way, but he hadn’t had the chance. Their minds had been made mute on arrival and they existed in an unnatural silence.
A silence he knew he could not expect to end. A silence that might persist until he died here.
The thought panicked him and he opened his eyes, staring at the glint of moonlight through the holes in the wall. He couldn’t live like this anymore. He couldn’t.
He had to escape.
7
Gar had left three days ago and he still wasn’t back. Venfirdri Lan drummed his long fingers on the desk and tried to control his frustration.
He couldn’t help the sneaking suspicion that Gar had left for so long to make a point. Recently he had, quite frankly, been a pain in the ass. He had complained about duties. He had questioned orders.
He was also dangerously close to figuring out that Lan had no legal right to be running this mine. Lan hoped Gar would have the revelation soon, thus getting it out of the way—and at the same time, he also hoped that Gar would never figure it out.
The male was unpredictable, after all—a very strange mix of pragmatic and moralistic. Who could say what he might do when he learned the truth?
Lan really should start bringing a guard with him.
Or not. The guards didn’t know either. Lan had fed them a story about their contracts being renewed and him fighting it, and he could hardly afford for one of them to overhear the truth at this juncture.
No, if things went wrong, he’d take care of Gar himself.
In the meantime, he was fairly certain that Gar was trying to make a point about how indispensable he was—or at least how much he ought to be compensated for his work. He knew it would be difficult for the overseer to find someone to take his place, especially with all the new duties.
So he was staying away, which forced Lan to do all the tasks Gar would have usually taken care of…and it was exhausting. The security guards were always complaining about something, the workers had formed groups that they were very carefully not calling unions, and the jail cells were so overfilled that the guards were concerned about riots.
As if that weren’t enough, there were several technical systems in dire need of repair. Normally it would have been a small mountain of paperwork to submit claims to the company—unpleasant but doable—but now Lan was left wondering just how they were going to find a technician to come out here and fix things…and not mention the location of the mine to anyone after he left.
He knew he was on borrowed time. It would only be so long before the company’s new leadership decided to make absolutely sure all the mines had been closed or the land was sold out from under him.
But he’d taken the gamble that he’d be able to pull it off for long enough to retire by disappearing quietly with a hefty sum of money.
That was if everything went right—and really, he should begin thinking of buying Gar’s silence. Lan tried to comfort himself with the thought that Gar really had been very pragmatic in his actions. It was just the occasional sentiment here or there that had been off, not a sudden onset of morality.
That would have been troubling.
Yes, Gar had made a shrewd move by staying away so long, and Lan could appreciate that. He would raise the male’s pay and make it subtly clear that, in return for Gar’s silence, he would have a share of the profits and assistance in getting away when people finally found them. It was tricky doing things like this—the underlings tended to get greedy—but Lan could deal with that when the time came.
With that decided, he was surprised to hear a door open nearby and the sound of Gar’s voice. He looked up as Gar came into the room with a package.
The vice-overseer bowed respectfully. “My very deep apologies, Overseer Venfirdri. It was more difficult to acquire the goods than I anticipated, and I lingered in hopes of finding a technician to repair some of our systems—but I am afraid none could be found. I will return to my duties at once.”
He laid the sweets on the desk and made to leave with another respectful bow, but Lan stopped him.
“Before you go?”
“Yes?”
Well, this was awkward. Lan wasn’t quite sure how he wanted to approach it.
“What were you planning to do now?”
To his surprise, a secretive look flitted across Gar’s face. “I was intending to, ah...inspect our security. I think that would be wise. The guards have been complaining. Yes. Faulty equipment.”
He was almost babbling, and after a moment Lan came to the conclusion that Gar had really been planning to go and rest after his journey.
You can’t expect a promotion unless you work hard, Gar. He decided to throw the other male off by accompanying him on his rounds as a little test of sorts. If Gar accepted his company with good grace, Lan would offer him the raise and promotion. If not, Lan would wait a little longer and think carefully about his next moves.
He stood. “It’s a fine day. I’ll walk with you.”
Gar frowned for a moment. “It was beginning to rain.”
“Still, I have been shut up in here all day. I will accompany you.” Lan’s voice brooked no argument.
“Of course.” Gar acceded with a nod.
They strolled down the hill from the overseer’s hut. It was nothing much to look at from the outside, though Lan had finally made it almost civilized inside. The rough board walls hid thick curtains that kept out the chill of the mountains, and rugs covered the floor. He had good lamps and a decent bed, as well his desk and chair.
Outside, however, the path was plain dust and the view was of the huts, walls, and grimy industrial-lit mine entrances.
Lan rarely came outside anymore.
At his side, Gar laced his hands behind his back in an attempt to appear nonchalant and thought furiously. It was unlike Lan to take any interest in running things—and why should he do so today, of all days?
Gar had planned to do his assessment of the security systems before Barnabas had any time to think
he was not upholding his end of the bargain. He feared that if Barnabas took care of things on his own, it might be a great deal more violent than Gar could survive.
And now Lan wanted to come along and...what, inspect the security measures? That couldn’t be right. He must suspect something about Gar’s trip, and Gar was worried.
“How was the city?” Lan asked.
“Very busy.” It was hard to tell if this was a safe topic, and he tried to find a subtle way to set Lan’s mind at ease. “The food is better, but there’s never any company worth having.”
Lan laughed. “No, there isn’t. It’s hardly a city, is it?”
Gar remembered the crush of color and sound. It had been overwhelming in a good way after the endless dust and grime of the mines. He knew the correct answer to the question, however. “A fitting city for a backwater.”
“Anything notable?” Lan pressed as they reached the bottom of the slope and the doors swung up to let them through the walls.
The walls, of course, were not made to keep anything out.
Gar led the way up the stairs and onto the walls. He wondered if Lan would even realize this was an unusual sort of inspection. Lan knew so little about how this place was run.
“Nothing in particular,” he replied, trying to sift through his head for safe topics.
If he mentioned a lot of people Lan might think he knew about the mines being freed, and Gar was afraid that if the overseer found out he knew, he might simply kill him and be done with it. But if Gar pretended not to know anything, against all odds, the other Luvendi might be suspicious.
Gar made his choice in a split-second and looked up and down the wall to ensure they were alone before stopping to look at Lan intently.
“We need to be cautious,” he said quietly.
Lan raised an eyebrow. He was careful not to say anything that might be incriminating.
“There were technicians in Tethra,” Gar lied, “but I couldn’t trust any of them. I don’t think anyone has noticed yet that our mines are still running, but word could get out so easily. How are we planning to keep this quiet?”
