"I'm no longer a Prosecutor." Baldwin admitted. "I am a Senator now. Sarvan's Representative to the Senate of Worlds. I was just elected."
"You're a Federation Senator?" Jarlaxle stuttered, stunned disbelief twisting his features. He did not want to believe. That was obvious enough. But he did believe. He did believe, because such a lie was too fantastic to make up.
Chapter 30
The blaster in her hand was more an extension of her arm that a separate entity that was nothing without her. Where her mind willed went its bursts of searing, scorching energy. When she had killed seven, the forest became preternaturally quiet. Too quiet. The most impatient of them had been weeded from their ranks.
Rebecca wanted to scream out at them to try and come and get her, to get it over with, but of course that was a thing of the movies, the action flicks, not a thing of the real world where it would only serve to pinpoint her location.
As the day wore on, her nerves began to fray. She had the feeling she had delayed too long, but no matter how she analyzed the situation, she could not determine how so. She considered the odds to be entirely in her favor.
Indecision preyed on her as her unease grew. She'd long since learned to rely on her instinctual reactions, her intuition, and she recognized her feelings now as that very thing. Something was wrong, if only she could determine what it was.
She had always counted on that sixth sense, but she was no fucking mind reader. Rebecca knew her limitations, and she felt that she had reached them, her limit.
Her intuition told her to flee. To flee in some random direction. To act unexpectedly. But she could not. She had to follow her duty, and her duty called her back to Baldwin. She was only sure that she was no longer sure of anything.
She decided to act. She moved without sound, taking her time, until she put some distance between herself and her adversaries. Then she ran.
Having to do her duty was her failure. When the tribesmen stepped from behind the bole of a large tree, swinging the butt end of a sword at the side of her head, her reaction was too slow, too delayed. The blow connected solidly and she fell without a sound, tangled in her own suddenly uncooperative feet.
At first Nago thought he had killed her. Her ferocity as a fighter had had him overestimating her, when in the end she was nothing more than any other weak woman. Except for the fire weapon. The weapon and a bit of stealth.
The girl was stunningly beautiful. Atvar was a pale shadow by comparison, and Atvar was the most beautiful girl in the entire Dunaj tribe.
Atvar would not be happy when she met her new rival, Nago thought with wry humor. She would not be pleased at all.
Blood spilled redly from her lacerated scalp, a wicked injury. She possessed other injuries as well, and was wearing a wrist restraint of some kind. Nago had never seen its like, but it seemed obvious that the wrist must be broken.
Injured and a woman, she had put up one hell of a fight. She'd make a splendid wife, once broken, and bear him hardy, ferocious boys. He'd never seen a woman like her, and wondered at the differences. Mom had been nothing like this one. It was a strange anomaly. One he could not reconcile with the limited information available to him at that moment.
She could fill in the blanks herself. There was much to be learned.
He had to yell quite loudly before he was heard, and when his men gathered around him, there were but five remaining. Not counting the two who were injured, who he had relented and sent back to the Dunaj village for reinforcements, which they would now no longer need.
"Bind her wrists." Nago instructed and watched dispassionately as one of his remaining men did so. Not gently. Even unconscious, the woman moaned in pain. There would be much pain when she awoke. It would be a good beginning lesson.
A thorough search uncovered several items stashed within her boots in ingeniously clever hiding places. The blaster now rode Nago's own hip, though he wasn't quite ready to begin experimenting with it just yet.
She would share its secrets. Willingly or not so willingly. It mattered little to Nago.
"Carry her until she awakens." Nago instructed Zakin, who easily threw the unconscious woman over his beefy shoulder and grinned at Nago to show he did not mind the duty at all. A hand on her muscular rump held her balanced in place.
"What about the man?" Naram asked.
"Fetch him in." Nago said abruptly. It would be a good test of Naram's mettle, and if he failed, too bad. His people would begin earning their positions of authority, starting now.
Now that he had the fire weapon, he clearly remembered seeing many more just like it in the ship. If Naram failed, the loss of the inept ones weapon would not be that greatly felt. If he succeeded, that much the better.
Nago did not care, one way or the other.
Naram did not seem pleased. A woman with the fire weapon had eliminated most of their number, and now Nago was sending him alone. No, he was not pleased, but he dared not to speak in protest.
"Alive?" Naram asked only.
"I don't care. Just bring me his weapon." Still abrupt.
"Of course." Naram said, then departed. Nago watched him until he was gone, then turned to those men who remained;
"Let's go. We're finished here."
As they moved away, Nago could not help the surreptitious glances he kept casting on the weapon on his hip. The weapon which had had such a devastating effect, had so unevenly turned the tables, making one warrior, a woman at that, nearly a match for so many of them!
Zakin easily carried the woman on the run, the pace Nago adopted. He seemed to be enjoying himself. There would soon be other pleasures Nago would be enjoying, he thought as he ran along behind, keeping his eyes on the beautiful warrior, lest she awakened and attempted some treachery. He knew her abilities. He was not about to take any chances now. Not now that he had her.
Besides the pleasure she would provide in his sleeping chamber, she would also provide a font of information about the Outsiders.
Nago was ambitious, and knowledge is power. The little his mother had imparted had entirely changed the outcome of this whole event. Nago was learning. There was something beyond Bali that someone, for some reason, did not want them to be aware of. There was power to be had from this.
Power!
The lust Nago felt was only partially sexual in nature, only partially derived from the knowledge of the pleasure he would have from this female. It was also the lust for power, which was as powerful a drive in Nago as was the lust for the woman's ripe flesh.
They moved quickly and without speaking.
Chapter 31
Naram was by no means a coward. There was nothing of his world he would not challenge with bared blade in hand, even the ferocious Tarn, where a strong man's odds were less than an even shake, yet he would rather face the Tarn than the Outsider God weapon.
Why had Nago sent him alone? And how does one fight against fire?
Still, Naram's fear did not cloud his judgment. He could not allow that to happen. Unspoken was the question what happened to a warrior struck down by the God fire? How had these Outsiders harnessed such power? Naram could easily imagine a trip straight to the fires of eternal damnation were he foolish enough to be struck down by its blast! Where else would one go who had so displeased the Gods?
It seemed more than obvious.
If ever there was a time to exhibit utmost caution, it was now, when the fires of eternal damnation were licking so greedily at Naram's heels. He could almost feel its heat!
Naram made not even the barest whisper of sound as he slipped through the forest. Naram did not believe that the God weapon was man-made, as Nago claimed, but they were wielded by men, and a man could be conquered, the weapon taken. Nago had proven that.
He was a wraith, a wisp of smoke, passing through the forest. He could take this clumsy male, weapon or no.
Naram knew about the others immediately, when he came close. Human though he be, he was as much a part of the forest as the creatures w
hich dwelt within it, and he sensed, felt and heard the vast emptiness ahead, where a large area of the forest was utterly quiet.
Much too quiet. Preternaturally quiet.
Naram turned to backtrack immediately, but it was already too late. He had already passed into their midst, and now they rose up from their concealment, surrounding him, from what had appeared to be empty forest only a moment ago.
"Women!" Naram muttered in surprise as the apparitions rose around him, from a forest which had not been quiet with the presence of humans. All had seemed normal here. The larger zone of quiet had been farther ahead. The forest had accepted these as their own. Three of them. The forest was quiet now.
They carried no bows or swords. Only knives and a sort of metal stick with a wooden end. They were locals, Naram recognized immediately, and the sticks were not the Outsider weapons. His only fear was delay. There were more of them ahead.
They were too far away from him to affect him with their metal clubs, but if they were clubs, they were holding them in a strange manner.
An arrow came out of his quiver and flew to the drawstring of his bow. He turned and drew it in the same motion, but didn't let fly. The women had put the metal sticks to their shoulders and were staring back, unafraid.
The recent experience of watching so many of his comrades die, slaughtered so easily by an hitherto unknown weapon, gave Naram pause. The sticks the women were pointing at him were not clubs. They were obviously weapons of a sort he had never before experienced. Suddenly he wished he was not there.
The women showed no fear of him or his bow at all. One of them began moving to block his rearward path while another, no more than a child, spoke;
"Put down the bow." She said. "And the rest of your weapons. If you wish to live."
Naram forgot his caution in the rage which overwhelmed him. A woman who dared to speak to him so! The drawstring and notched arrow came all the way back and rested just ahead of his ear on his right cheek.
The girl was familiar with the ignorance of guns. Larita Accor, Jarlaxle's daughter, one of them anyway, he had over a hundred children, was not unfamiliar with violence. In fact, violence was with what she was most familiar. The Tarovan had been embroiled in one war or another throughout the entirety of her short life. She was a soldier, and had long since made her bones.
She recognized the barbarity of the tribesmen as well, and knew what he would do to her if he could have his way, but he was not going to have his way. Even were she unarmed, he would never have that! As Jarlaxle's own father had Jarlaxle trained, had Jarlaxle trained his children. Each and every one of them. She would fight with her hands and feet and with the consummate skill of the master. His children were his loyal guard and he had trained them well.
Now Larita did not hesitate. She let her finger settle on the trigger, and the rifle bucked against her shoulder, the rifled slug spun across the intervening distance to rip through the tribesman's shoulder, mushrooming upon impact, tearing away a great chunk of meat, and slapping the man to the ground.
The arrow went flying off harmlessly into the trees.
It was over before it had begun.
Larita looked to her sister Melange and shrugged her shoulders. He had left her no choice. Melange shrugged back. Their third member, not a relation, rushed over to cover the tribesmen, but he was no longer a threat.
"You did what was necessary." Melange said.
"I hope I haven't killed him!" Larita said. "Father won't be happy." But the man lived, though he was losing a lot of blood, they saw as they moved to stand over him.
Nago would kill him for his blunder, Naram thought as he gained control of himself, sat up and examined his shoulder. His right arm was useless. Dead. And he was losing blood quickly, and shock was setting in.
The chance he would never see Nago again was suddenly a prominent thought in his mind. The wound was very severe. He had seen men die of less.
He was soon surrounded by throngs of warriors. All carrying the thunder stick weapons. The world Naram had known had suddenly changed and was gone. Life, if it would continue for him, had unalterably changed.
How were the Dunaj to stand against such weapons?
"Where's the woman?" A weak looking runt of a man demanded, but with authority.
The scornful reply that rose in Naram's throat did not escape. A more thorough examination of the man made him readjust his evaluation. There was about this man the air of reserved violence and ability. Of competence. Nor could he miss how the rest deferred to him, made room around him, and seemed to be waiting upon his decision.
The decision they were waiting for concerned him. This little man held Naram's life in his hands. And they would find out all there was to know anyway. Any amateur could read the story of the battle with the woman, once they had back-trailed him that far.
So deceit was futile. Now he had his life to think about.
"We were following the Outsiders . . . " Naram began.
"The Dunaj?" Jarlaxle interrupted.
"Yes, I am Dunaj." Naram said. "We got the woman, after she killed many. I was sent to bring back the man. Or at least his weapon. The God weapon that throws the fire."
"It's no God weapon, you superstitious fool." The man, the Chief, said, but there really was no vehemence in it.
Ignoring the statement, Naram said;
"I'll be killed for my failure." How Naram was sure of that, he could not say, but he was sure of it. Nago seemed to have become unstable, ever since this had begun. Naram could not predict what he might or might not do next.
"So you do not wish to return to the Dunaj?" The Chieftain asked him.
Naram looked his confusion. Did he intend to accept Naram into his own tribe? The Dunaj were not so lenient with those whom they captured. Only the women and girl children were spared. The rest were put to the sword.
"No. I wish never to return." Naram answered truthfully.
"Tell me about your people." The Chieftain demanded, and Naram held nothing back.
Baldwin watched the proceedings with a cynical eye, exhausted from the forced march. But none of the Tarovan seemed surprised when Jarlaxle spared the man and agreed to accept him into their tribe. In fact, it was what they had seemed to expect!
The news of Rebecca's capture was a severe blow to his already frayed nerves. It was what he had feared the most, why he had not wanted her to go alone, and now the worst was realized.
They had both been captured, but even worse, by competing tribes.
It was really all pointless. There were too many forces at work here to have avoided them all, all attracted by and converging on the wreck of the Federation ship, a treasure no monetary value could be placed upon to these. How many more even now unheedingly rushed forward?
By the time this was played out, how many deaths would he be able to attribute directly to his own folly? He might as well have ordered Bali vaporized, as the doomed Captain had jokingly suggested, than to have the mayhem that was about to erupt, he was sure, fully realized.
At least if he had it would have been over quickly.
But that was foolish self-pity, and Baldwin put it aside ruthlessly. He had to think, to discover a way out, for Rebecca as much as for himself.
"Your friend is in trouble." Jarlaxle said as he returned to Baldwin's side. "Now the Dunaj have blasters as well. How many were on the ship?"
"I don't know for sure. A lot."
"That's not good." Jarlaxle said musing, but he didn't seem overly concerned or truly upset. He really had no reason to be, if the Tarovan numbered as many as he had claimed, and all armed with the bolt action rifles. "But I expected it. The battle will not be entirely one-sided, then. Afterward, we will possess them all, which is good. One must take the good with the bad, huh?"
"If you say so." Baldwin said, thinking of the deaths that would come.
"Do not be morose." Jarlaxle said. "It is your own Federation which makes the rules. Do you think the Dunaj would give up their
sovereignty willingly? Is this not the way it is done on every Prison Colony World? As a Prosecutor, you could not but have been aware of to what you were sentencing all of those people. I did not make the rules. If we are to have a free society, a Democracy, then those who stand in the way must be removed. Is there some other way I have not seen?"
"I guess not." Baldwin said. He wasn't going to get into a discussion with this man about the rights and wrongs of the issue. He just wasn't going to do it. Jarlaxle was a killer. He would never be more in Baldwin's view. Everything Jarlaxle was doing he was doing for selfish reasons.
"Let's go then," Jarlaxle said, laughing, as if he had won the point. And maybe he had, the thought intruded itself into Baldwin's mind, "to do the Federations bidding."
Chapter 32
Lan thought Bali an ugly world. Ugly in that it was forest covered and would make it hell's own time finding a missing Senator. If he were still alive to be found.
"There'll be lots of friendly natives." Briar Murdoch said. They were all sitting around a large conference table while an even larger monitor displayed the planet below. The remaining missing members were even at that time docking, and would be joining them shortly.
"We'll leave you behind to play with them. Keep them occupied." Nat Bergen said nastily. It did not sound like a joke. The two had not been getting along well.
"Best watch yourself or I'll play with you." Briar said. It sounded like a joke, but it was not. Nor was his smile warm.
"Anytime." Bergen responded. The two glared at one another a moment, and then let it ride. The fact that everyone else was glaring at the pair probably had a lot to do with it.
"You children can play afterward." Lan said. "Do any of you have anything constructive to add before we drop? Now would be the time. We drop in fifteen minutes."
"Then let's move." Said Major General Sanchez, when nobody else spoke. He had not left much opportunity. "You can brief the rest on the way down. Everyone's gear has been prepared." He told Lan.
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