by James Axler
“Yeah, but how far do we do that before it gets to be a problem?” Dean asked.
Krysty shot him a puzzled look. “You’re doubting Mildred?”
Dean grimaced. “No, not really. It’s just that…well, she kind of belongs here, and I figure that stuff’s important. Mebbe more important.”
Doc raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been unsettled since we landed here, young Dean. What is it that ails you?”
“Nothing,” Dean muttered, shrugging off the memories of dreams that haunted him.
“This still more interesting than waiting next hunt,” Jak murmured.
There was a raised platform in the middle of the square that was used for speeches and celebrations, and the trio of Markos, Mildred and Sineta mounted it to a hum of speculation that stilled as the sec boss raised an arm.
“People, it is very rare in our history that we have to meet in such a way. And it is beyond such that we meet today, for we have something unprecedented in our history of which to speak. Our beloved Barras is too ill to come to speak, but he has given me orders and requested his daughter to speak to you. Pray be silent and listen well, for what Sineta has to say is of the utmost import.”
He stood back and made way for the woman. She stepped forward and looked over the sea of faces in front of her. Never before in her life had the reality of being the baron—the leader and focal point of so many—become so apparent. It was several moments before she found her voice.
For many in the gathering it wasn’t long enough. Markos’s brother Chan stood in the crowd, instantly distinguishable because of his pigmentless skin, and listened in growing disbelief and anger to what Sineta had to say. She told the people of her father’s decision to authorize a mass exodus to the whitelands and why. Their resources were all used up. It was a simple case of move or buy the farm. She explained that her father, herself and Markos were aware that many would be against mixing with the pale ones. These people had to face the reality of the situation.
The plan was to find a place where they could live in relative isolation, so that they wouldn’t have to mix with anyone—of whatever descent—if they didn’t wish to. But there would be pale ones, and there would be no point in fighting it. She hoped that the presence of Mildred’s companions would help to show that not all pale ones were the enemy. As for those who just did not wish to leave the island of Pilatu—they just needed to look around. The harvests were lessening; the game was harder to hunt; the mines were running dry. The island had served them well, but now it was exhausted. The time to reenter the world their ancestors had left behind had finally arrived, and truly they were the chosen ones for undertaking this momentous task.
It was a good speech; a true speech. All the things that Sineta touched upon were true, albeit that they were angled to make her point seem more irrefutable. To many in the crowd, it seemed to make sense. Even those who were saddened by the thought of leaving the island could see that it wasn’t a question of choice any longer.
Watching the faces as Sineta spoke, Mildred felt it was going better than she might have expected. There were some that looked unhappy, even angry: not least among these being the instantly recognizable visage of Chan. Markos, too, had spotted his brother, and when Mildred glanced at the sec boss she could see the mixed emotions that boiled within him.
But the faces that caught Mildred’s attention most of all were those of the companions. At the back of the crowd, they stood out immediately and clearly by virtue of their skin color. She could see the amazement at the revelation, and also the disappointment. Her eyes locked with J.B.’s and, despite the distance between them, it seemed as though she could actually hear what was running through his head. His stare was accusatory. He felt that she had in some way betrayed them—could she be trusted?
It saddened and angered her that he could feel that way. Of course she could be trusted. It was just that she was caught between two loyalties, two ideals. Both were right, but neither could be completely served. Instead, she had to juggle…and sometimes the ball was dropped.
“SHIT, THIS IS GOING to make things very hot for us,” Ryan muttered to his people.
“You can say that again, lover,” Krysty conceded as she watched some in the crowd turn to them. Most were curious, but others were outrightly hostile. “We’re really going to have to watch our backs. There’s going to be some who want to use us to prove a point, and they’re going to be out to chill us.”
“By the Three Kennedys, one would have wished Mildred to have given us some warning.” Doc sighed.
J.B. answered this without taking his gaze from the platform. “She would have, once.”
Jak tapped the Armorer’s arm. “Not real danger—look there,” he said, pointing into the crowd.
J.B. followed Jak’s finger, the rest of the companions following suit. The albino Chan was no longer looking at Sineta or his brother on the platform. Instead, he was facing the back of the crowd, his eyes scanning for signs of the companions. Two other men had barged through the crowd and were now urgently talking to him. The albino held up his hand to silence them, then smiled slowly as he located the white faces at the back of the crowd. He spoke to the two men at his side, and they, too, directed their gazes toward the companions. They listened as he spoke. When he had finished, they indicated their agreement.
“That something worry about,” Jak said slowly.
“We’re really going to have to be triple-red from now on,” Ryan mused. “Shit, I wish we could get our blasters back. Mebbe Mildred could—”
“Mebbe she won’t,” J.B. interrupted coldly. “Figure that just mebbe we’ll have to get the blasters ourselves.”
“You think it’ll come to that?” Dean asked, alarmed.
J.B. was about to answer when Krysty cut him off. “Don’t say anything you might regret, J.B. And listen, I think this concerns us.”
On the platform, Sineta was detailing the way work at the ville would be divided until the migration. It was important to keep the land and hunt in progress, so that there would be plenty of food. Yet there was also much to do in the way of preparation and storage. One of the most important tasks would be to ready the transportation that would take them to the whitelands. New boats were to be built, and those on the fishing fleet would be rotated so that they could be adapted to take larger cargoes of people and produce and the livestock and wags that would carry the population once they hit the mainland.
“Mildred’s companions have much experience of such matters, and so they will work with us on the conversion of the boats. They will also help to oversee the storage of foodstuffs and belongings for the journey. They will work closely with us, and you will see the true qualities of the pale ones.”
Ryan cast his eye over the expectant crowd that had turned with curiosity to view them. He particularly noticed the hostile faces, especially those grouped around Chan.
Sure, it would give them a chance to prove both themselves and also the point Sineta—and presumably Mildred—wanted to make.
But it would also put them right in the firing line for the fanatics.
Chapter Eight
“Fireblast! How tough are these damn trees?” Ryan grunted as the ax stuck yet again in the fibrous wood of the trunk. Sap oozed over the ax head and down the handle, almost like glue to seal the metal into the body of the tree. The trunk gave easily at the swing of the head, but was loathe to loose the metal, making it hard and time-consuming to fell even a single tree.
And there were many to be felled. Wood was needed for the reinforcement of existing craft and the rapid building of more. Hard labor was required to gather this wood, and among the few islanders felling trees, the companions were set to the task. That was, all the companions except Mildred, who was still aiding Sineta. Although this decision made sense, it still rankled J.B. that Mildred hadn’t been to see them while they set about their task.
The islanders who joined them in tree felling were among the least friendly on the islan
d. Many of those who had spoken openly after the meeting about not wishing to travel abroad had been rounded up by Markos’s sec men and put to work out of harm’s way. There was little they could do in the way of sabotage and damage to the evacuation plans while they were merely chopping trees. There was one exception—Elias, the man who was Markos’s rival for the hand of Sineta.
“Though I wish the move to take place smoothly, I also know my strengths—perhaps literally,” he had answered when Ryan, discovering his views and identity, had questioned his being on such a ‘punishment’ detail. “You just have to look at me to see why I am suited to this.”
Ryan had to agree. Although he was softly spoken, Elias was a giant of a man. Around six feet four or five, he was broad-shouldered, with a thickly corded neck and biceps and pectorals that showed a great upper-body strength. He seemed to be top-heavy, as his legs weren’t as well muscled. However, this was only comparatively, and served to emphasize his upper-body development. He was felling trees near the companions, and in work breaks had spoken with them, keen to discover more of the world beyond Pilatu. They had learned, in return, of his desire to integrate the community in the outside world, something he felt essential for its long-term survival, and of his quest for Sineta’s hand to further this. Taken with what they knew of Markos and his brother Chan, it made the giant Pilatan a sympathetic figure who may be a good ally.
And good allies were what they would need. Even from the attitude of those around them, they knew that there would be problems. A couple of times there had been axes or knives that flew mysteriously through the air to embed themselves in trunks near where the companions worked. The sec, being dismissive, had ordered everyone back to work, thus none of the companions had been able to pinpoint the origin of the hostility. So they were constantly on triple-red, and glad for an ally among the island population. What worried the companions more than anything was that they were unarmed. Ryan’s panga, J.B.’s Tekna, Dean’s knife and even Doc’s silver lion’s-head swordstick, had been taken away by the sec. They still had Jak’s leaf-bladed knives, but to keep these secret, the albino kept them about his person, which meant that he couldn’t swiftly distribute them in time of trouble. There would always be a crucial delay.
On the third day, Mildred came to the area where the felling was taking place to check on the progress for Sineta. She was accompanied by Markos.
“There really isn’t the need for you to cover me like this,” Mildred snapped at him as they followed the swath left by the already felled wood. “I can look after myself, you know.”
“I would not suggest that you are helpless, like the rabbit caught in the snake’s gaze,” he answered stiffly. “On the contrary, I would be more like to compare you to the snake.”
“Shit, thanks,” Mildred replied.
Markos grimaced. “Once more you misunderstand my intent. I would almost believe that you purposely misconstrue my words so that they appear false and damaging to you.”
Mildred looked at the sec boss’s expression and laughed. “Lighten up, Markos. I was being funny.”
“I am not good at being…‘funny,’ as you put it,” he replied with an almost too solemn dignity.
“I had noticed,” Mildred pointed out, followed by, “That’s better,” as she saw a smile of genuine amusement cross his face. “But it’s true. I can look after myself.”
“I realize this, but factions against you may not. My presence may make them think again about attack, or at the very least give another pair of eyes to keep watch.”
“You really think someone may try to chill me?”
He shrugged. “You are an outsider who aids change. We are going where the majority of workers have been placed out of harm’s way because they oppose change. You figure it out.”
Mildred glared at the sec boss. “Okay. By the way, for someone who isn’t funny, that actually wasn’t bad. Guess I asked for it. But you didn’t want change, and I don’t have to fear you. Do I?”
“I accept the inevitability of change and the tide of history as it ebbs and flows.”
“That still doesn’t answer my question.”
“I repeat—you figure it out. But we are almost there,” he added as the sound of tree felling became more apparent. They rounded a bend in the path and came upon the edges of the work party, who stopped when they saw Mildred approach. Among the workers in this section were the six companions and Elias. The dark giant stiffened on seeing the sec boss approach.
“Your posture would suggest you have a problem—and quite a large one—with our friend Markos,” Doc murmured.
“You know him—and his pernicious brother. If you wish reinforcement for my views, just ask Jak,” Elias muttered.
However the companions—especially J.B.—were too preoccupied by seeing Mildred again to dwell on that.
“Millie, good to see you here,” J.B. said with an understatement that was obvious. “It’s been a while. We wondered what was going on.”
“John…” Mildred returned. “I’ve been busy. There’s a lot to do.”
“Plans going well for the evacuation?” Ryan asked.
Mildred was about to answer when Markos stayed her with a gesture. “Remember where we are. Perhaps that is a question that should not be answered here. Mebbe later.”
“Yeah, perhaps you’re right,” Mildred agreed.
J.B. spit angrily on the ground. “When later?” he said, with barely controlled anger. “We’re billeted here while you’re with the baron’s daughter. So what happens when we get over to the mainland, eh?”
“I can’t even think that far ahead,” Mildred replied. As she spoke, she realized what she was saying.
“Well, isn’t that interesting?” J.B. said, a deceptive mildness to his voice.
“J.B., leave it,” Ryan counseled. It wasn’t an order. There was a rare softness and an understanding in the one-eyed man’s tone.
Krysty moved across to J.B. and took his arm. “We can talk about this later,” she said softly. “Right now we’ve got work to do, and I’m sure Mildred has, too.” With which the redhead shot Mildred a look that asked her what the hell she meant, before leading the Armorer away.
“Yeah, mebbe we should talk about this after we get across to the mainland,” Ryan said quietly. “Seems to me that you’ve got some decisions to make.”
Mildred chewed her lip thoughtfully before answering. “Yeah, maybe I have,” she said simply. She turned to Markos. “We should get on. Sineta wants to know how the whole of this operation is going.”
She turned away to follow the sec boss through the clearing to the next sector of the felling operation. She didn’t see Dean follow until she felt his hand. She whirled, ready to defend herself and wondering why she suddenly felt it necessary.
“Whoa, easy!” the youth exclaimed.
“Sorry, Dean. You just surprised me,” Mildred replied.
“It’s okay,” he said. “Look, I just wanted to say that, well, I guess the others just haven’t thought of it, but this island…Well, I just figure that mebbe you don’t feel so lonely anymore.”
“Lonely?” Mildred queried, puzzled.
“Yeah. Mebbe that’s not what I mean,” he answered, struggling for the right words. “I don’t know, mebbe I mean more like…Well, you don’t feel so alone.”
Mildred sighed. “Yeah, I think I see what you mean. You might be right. But in some ways, I’d be alone without you guys. It’s a difficult one to call.”
Dean shrugged, then looked past her to where Markos was waiting impatiently. “He’s waiting, and he’s not happy about it. But I just wanted to say it, that’s all.”
Mildred grasped Dean’s arm. “Okay, thanks.”
“What was that about?” Markos asked her when she joined him and Dean had returned to the work party.
“Nothing to concern you,” Mildred answered. “Let’s get on with this.”
They moved away through the trees, and the sec boss turned to Mildred with
the intention of speaking. However, he froze, causing Mildred to stop dead.
“What—” she began, but he cut her short with a gesture. Indicating that she stay quiet and wait. He moved sideways from the path and into the denser growth of trees.
Mildred was suddenly very aware that she was alone in the woodlands and unarmed. Since working with Sineta, she had taken to not carrying her Czech-made ZKR, which was stored safely in the home of the baron’s daughter. She scanned the lands around and listened intently. There were the sounds of the work parties, but little else she could differentiate.
No, to the left of her she could hear someone coming through the trees. She moved around and fell into a combat stance, crouching to prepare herself for an oncoming attack. She almost laughed with sheer relief when Markos appeared out of the trees, particularly when she saw the expression of surprise on his face when he took in her defensive stance.
“I thought I heard someone follow—stealthy like a true stalker, but still clumsy enough to trip some roots and move the undergrowth,” he said.
“But who—” Mildred began, only to be cut off by the piercing sound of a man in mortal agony.
Mildred and Markos moved as one. Both were able to pinpoint the direction of the cry, and both ran toward it. Markos had his H&K drawn and in his hands, ready for any attack. Mildred may have had no weapon for whoever had been attacking, but her thoughts were with whomever had been attacked: to offer assistance if she could.
The cry had come from the area they had just left. Mildred felt a qualm of apprehension. Was that one of her friends? She hadn’t recognized the voice that screamed, but it had been distorted by pain, forced high and keening.
Markos and Mildred burst into a clearing to find one of the Pilatan workers, back against a tree as though resting, an initial impression belied by the pool of blood in which he reclined and the spray of crimson that spread in front of him. Markos held out his arm to keep Mildred in cover at the edge of the clearing, scanning the area for the attacker; but Mildred pushed past him to reach the afflicted man.
