by Jean Kilczer
I could have spun a red coil of tel power and sliced the captain's brain stem where he stood, but the others would surely kill me for it. In the past, I'd managed to influence four minds at once. When the pain eased, I might still manage to direct these five to let me go free. At least they hadn't captured Sophia and Huff.
“Stand him up,” the captain ordered.
They lifted me to my feet and I leaned against the wall.
“I'll ask you again,” the captain said, so close I smelled fish on his breath, “where is the Terran female and the traitor?”
“Someplace where you won't find them.” I drew a hard breath. “Gone into the ocean's depths.”
“The female was wearing a dive suit,” another Slattie said, “when she came for this one during the battle in the grotto.”
The captain grabbed my jacket. “You're lying and I know it. But it's enough that we have you.” He shoved me toward the tunnel. “Walk!”
I held myself up by leaning against the wall as I walked. “I can't see.”
One of them picked up the lantern and went ahead.
"It was a torturous hike upward through a winding shaft. Spirit! I sent.
I cannot assist you, Jules, short of shutting down your brain. If they are forced to carry you, they could damage your ribs further.
Puncture a lung is what you're trying to say.
A distinct possibility.
I won't be taken alive to Lord Aburra.
I cannot send you into geth state, my Terran friend. Great Mind has chastised me for–
I know! For taking sides.
I had a thought as we walked out of the shaft and into frigid night air. The wind was sharp on this hill. Could I turn a tel death blow on myself and burn my own brain stem?
Jules! Spirit sent. Great Mind does not condone suicide. You know this.
Fuck you and Great Mind! Let Him feel this fire that's eating at my side.
Jules. That was Syl 'Via. We understand your pain and your anger, and we wish that we could help.
Yeah. Thanks for your support. Over and out!
I stopped and swayed at the sight of a body on the ground. “Thail!” He lay broken and twisted in bloody snow. A burn across his neck had cut it open to the skull. I lowered my head. Take him into your arms, Great Mind. Keep him safe.
One of the Slatties shoved me forward. “Walk!”
I kept my balance and limped ahead. If there was a hell, this was it.
Chapter Eight
“They've taken a human?” Lord Aburra rose from his throne of carved Druid bones and white fur. “Which one?”
“The Terran male, my lord, Jules Rammis,” a Slattie said from his knees before the throne. “He is a telepath, sire. The human you exe–sent to his reward, told us that the infidel Huff had called for his friends, and that this Jules friend is a telepath.”
“Why would the prisoner divulge that information, Lieutenant?”
“To save his…to prevent you from sending him to his reward. This telepath is very strong in the power, my lord.” He rose to his feet. “He has killed with death blows.”
“Why didn't he kill his captors?” Aburra picked up a meaty bone from an engraved gold platter as he strolled to a window above his garden of ice-carved statues.
“We don't allow him to be alone with any one of our brethren. When he is approached, Lord, it is by five or more guards.”
Aburra ripped off a raw chunk of meat and chewed. “I would contemplate approaching him myself, Lieutenant.”
“You, sire?”
Aburra turned to face his officer. “To make him an offer.” He fingered the silver star around his neck.
“My lord!” the lieutenant extended a paw. “If you approach him, he may well decide to kill you and forfeit his life.”
Aburra took off the silver star necklace and let it clatter to the polished floor. “Not if he doesn't know who I am.” He released the clasp of the red fur robe at his neck and handed the robe to the lieutenant. “Give me your armband.”
The lieutenant slipped it off. “Allow me, my lord.” He tied it around Aburra's left arm.
Aburra threw the bone back into the platter. “Now let's go see this Terran wonder.”
* * *
Jules lay asleep on the bunk in his cell as Aburra approached the bars, surrounded by five guards.
“I didn't know humans could be so pale,” Aburra said. “His furless skin is almost white. And his hair is yellow.”
“We think he is sick,” a guard said, Lord–I mean…"
“Wake him, and do not make that error twice.”
Jules awoke as a guard unlocked the cell door, and sat up stiffly.
Aburra entered, surrounded by his guards. What strange eyes, he thought as Jules looked up at him, then he subdued his thoughts, sat at the small bare table, and stared at Jules, who stared back.
“My Lord Aburra has sent me here, Terran Jules,” Aburra said, “to negotiate a deal with you.”
Jules remained silent.
“He's been informed that you possess strong telepathic abilities. Is that so?”
Jules stared past him at the open cell door.
Aburra held down a growing anger and shifted in his chair. “He is prepared to make you an offer that would benefit you both.”
Aburra felt pressure against his temples and held down all his thoughts and emotions. “The offer is this. In exchange for your services as a telepathic member of his military force in our ongoing battle with the infidels, he will free you when the Rebels are annihilated, and see to it that you return safely to your homeworld. In the meantime, he will offer you all the Terran luxuries at our disposal.”
Jules narrowed his eyes. The pressure against Aburra's temples became a vise. Within its grip an invading presence forced itself deeper into his stream of thoughts. Aburra fought back by visualizing a clean slate in his mind, devoid of any thoughts or emotions.
The probe pushed deeper.
Aburra fought back with a picture of a naked Terran female. “He is prepared to give you any woman of your race who falls into our hands from merchant ships.” He drew in a slow breath. It became a second by second dual as he felt the probe dig into his subliminal thoughts.
The hardest part was not to betray the rising anger that beat at the door of his conscious mind from the insolence of this human. He sat back and exhaled. “Well, that is our lord's offer.” He stared into Jules' strange eyes “It's either your services, or your life.”
“Tell your lord,” Jules said softly, “that I'll accept his offer with one condition.”
Aburra scratched his snout and calmly waited, playing the negotiator, objectively presenting his side of the contract, and judging his opponent's strengths and weaknesses. “And that is?”
“I want his sworn word, stated before his congregation as their religious leader, and the son of gods we all worship and adore, that when this war is over, even if the Cultists should lose, he will not renege on his word to send me home to planet Earth.”
“Is that all?” Aburra folded his hands on the table. “That should not be an issue. Our lord and father is a loyal son of our gods on high. His word is gospel. I think I can speak for him when I say that he will be agreeable to stating his intentions before his flock.”
When Jules didn't respond, Aburra rose and walked out the open door, followed by the guards. Once past the cell, he strode quickly out of the stifling building.
When he returned to his throne room, followed by his lieutenant, Aburra picked up the bone from the platter and threw it across the room. “That insolent son of a diseased bottom flapper!” he screamed.
“Yes, my lord.” The lieutenant picked up the bone and placed it on the platter. “He is past insolent.”
Aburra shifted feet as the lieutenant draped the red cape over his shoulders and clasped it at his neck.
“He'll pay for this when I no longer need his services.”
“Yes, sire, as he should.” He placed the
silver necklace over Aburra's head and straightened it.
“Ill have a special mass just for him.” Aburra gritted his teeth. “I'll flay off his skin and throw him into a pit of fire. I'll eat his roasted liver!”
“Yes, my lord, as is fitting.”
Aburra sat heavily on his throne and slammed a fist on the armrest. “Who does he think he is, the motherless scud. Lieutenant!”
“Yes, my lord?”
“Bring that girl that I deflowered at our last mass to my bedroom.”
The lieutenant nodded, went to all fours and trotted out the open filigreed door.
Lord Aburra rubbed his groin. She would take a pounding this night.
Chapter Nine
“Where is he?” Sophia asked Huff, who sat beside her on the floor by the table in the boat's cabin. “Where was Jules hiding? Do you know?”
“Not with me, Sofa…I mean So Pea. I thought he was with you when the Cultists came to the Cleoceans' homes by the sea.” Huff clasped his forepaws together. “Oh, Ten Gods that I worship, I have left you many tasty fish livers that I drooled to eat myself. Please keep my Terran cub safe now from harm and death.”
“Sophia,” Joe said from across the table, “did you see the Cultists leave the Cleocean village?” He looked haggard, with a white stubble beard, and uncombed hair. “Did you get a good look at who was with them?”
“It was too dark, Joe,” Sophia told him. “I heard the sound of land vehicles, that's all.” Her throat tightened as she looked around the table. “Do you think they've got him?”
“We scoured the Cleocean escape tunnels and cave,” Chancey said, “after the Cleoceans came to our boats and guided us to this bay where we could come ashore.” He stared at a window.
“I know all that, Chancey.” Sophia wiped tears.
Bat glanced at a window and scratched under his cap. “Where else could he be?”
The team had become compulsive about scanning the beach from the cabin windows.
“All right,” Joe said, “let's go over what we've got. If Jules were alive and free, he would've seen our boats anchored here, close to the village, and he would've shown himself.”
Sophia nodded and glanced at Chancey and Bat, who nodded agreement, too.
“I would feel his mind pull,” Huff murmured.
“That's right,” Joe said, “and if they…” He glanced at Sophia and combed hair off his forehead with his fingers, “and if they killed him, they would've left his body as a warning to Terrans to get the hell off Kresthaven, and stay off. Huff, can you think of any reason why they would keep a body? They left Thail's.”
Sophia shivered as the cold hand of fear iced her spine.
There was silence, except for the splash of wavelets against pontoons and the cries of birdlike creatures as they circled overhead.
“Slatties do not eat Terrans.” Huff shook tears from his eyes. “This I know.”
“Which leads me to one conclusion,” Joe said.
“That he's Aburra's prisoner!” Sophia blurted and could not hold back sobs.
Bat put a hand on her arm.
“What're we going to do, Joe?” Sophia brushed off Bat's hand and stood up. “God knows how much time he has before Aburra– Jules said he would not be taken alive!”
“He might not have had a choice,” Chancey said.
“I contacted General Ara Saun,” Joe said, “to ask for his help.”
“And?” Sophia said.
“He doesn't have the troop strength to attack Aburra's stronghold. The Rebels keep trying to recruit new members.”
“I wonder if Aburra knows that Jules is a tel?” Bat said.
“Who would tell him?” Joe asked.
“The Cultists know Huff contacted us for help,” Chancey said.
Huff nodded.
“Jules has gotten a name for himself around the Alliance colony worlds,” Chancey said. “His work on Syl 'Terra, Halcyon, Fartherland, Denebria, New Lithnia, New Terra, and Equus.” He counted them off on his fingers and motioned toward the vis screen. “His name and face have been on the Network for a few years now. Pretty much everybody and his grandfather know he's a powerful tel. He's got quite a following.”
“OK,” Joe said, “let's assume that Aburra knows he's a powerful tel.” He looked around. “It wouldn't be the first time that some despot wanted to use him for their own purposes.”
“If I know Jules,” Sophia said, “he'd likely play along, waiting for a chance to escape. He's good at that.”
“Yeah,” Joe agreed. “A tag that gets himself into messes at his rate has to be good at that.”
“Or use the power of his mind,” Huff said, “to destroy Aburra.”
They looked at each other. None of them wanted to ask the next question. If he killed Aburra, would he turn his tel death blow on himself to escape torture?
Sophia went to a window and stared at the beach. Jules, my love. My life. If you die, you'll take my heart with you. I need you, Babe. I need to hear your voice and feel your touch. Don't leave me here alone.
A Cleocean walked out to the water's edge. Others followed him. Soon a group was in the water, swimming toward the two boats.
Sophia turned. “We've got company,” she said dully.
* * *
It was an easy dive to the sunken starship. Sophia took welding equipment. Huff accompanied her with lights and a basket made of woven nylon line from the boat, and tied with a line to lift it up.
The group of Cleoceans guided Sophia and Huff to the Fartherland ship, and stayed to watch as she burned open the hatch. Huff and Sophia entered the eerie cabin, followed by the curious Cleoceans. Water had filled the ship over the years as rubber seals rotted away.
Sophia turned her gaze from Vermakt skeletons, the ship's crew, as she and Huff went to the cargo hold.
There, among the crates and floating pieces of wood and debris, they found the metal boxes marked bullion. Sophia pried one open with a lever while Huff held the lights. Particles and pieces of red algae rose in the disturbed water, but the gold bars shone as though impervious to seawater and time.
“We've got it, Joe!” Sophia said into her mic. “Call in the mercs!”
Chapter Ten
I climbed the chair to my small cell window and watched blue-banded Slatties below roam paths between ice-carved statues. Military vehicles cruised the grounds and the perimeters of the encircling wall of ice. A line of Slatties with white armbands waited outside an ice chapel. The ones who emerged wore blue armbands and carried small bulging bags around their necks.
Pilgrims? I wondered.
Across the courtyard a great ice church, with an enormous carved star on its parapet, split the white land with a stark shadow. Somewhere, in the back quarters, was my enemy, Lord Aburra.
I'd been in this cell for nine days. My ribs were healing, but I was in danger of dying of boredom. My opportunities for escape were lower than a sand spinner's testicles. The Cultists knew I had tel power and they were afraid of my abilities. I was never approached by less than five guards. The Terran amenities I'd been promised consisted of a vis screen that played Cultist propaganda speeches over and over, and a toothbrush without toothpaste.
The sudden drone of a ship deepened as it swooped out of the sun. I thought it was a Cultist craft. They'd traded for some heavy military equipment, probably from illegal merchant starships. But as it dived into the compound, I saw Sun Sprite emblazoned across its hull. She was our hovair, brought here aboard Star Sojourner!
“Chancey,” I whispered, and clutched the bars as the ship plowed across the field, raising curtains of snow that hid her path. Only Chancey had the flying skills and the audacity to land in the enemy's own compound in broad daylight.
Military vehicles skidded in snow as they turned and ratcheted down their big guns to aim at Sprite. Slatties on foot raced for cover.
A hot beam from Sprite blasted a vehicle. It exploded. I closed my eyes as Slatties inside were flung like puppets
, their bodies torn. Trails of blood followed the dead crew as they rolled through snow.
“Get out of here, Chance,” I whispered as vehicles leveled their big guns on Sprite. She pointed her nose up and leaped into the sky, driving a path toward the sun. A beam from her cannon snapped out. The ice star atop the church exploded and rained down in a hail of ice chips and water.
“Nice going, Chance.” I smiled as the vehicles began to raise their guns again, much too slow as Sprite bored into the sun's blazing light. “Show them how it's done, tag,” I whispered, leaned my forehead on the bars and sighed. “Show them how it's done.”
* * *
“How the hell do I know what they were doing here?” I asked the Slattie inquisitor. “Maybe you haven't noticed, but I've been stored away in a cell for the past nine days.”
He leaned across his bone desk, draped with dyed red furs and leather tassels, “how far does your tel power extend?”
“Not far enough.”
“Was it a reconnaissance flight?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
He stood up to his full seven-foot height and braced his forepaws on the desk as he leaned forward. If the room hadn't been so cold, I think I would've been sweating.
“You will be lucky,” he said, “if Lord Aburra does not cut out your heart and your liver with knives of fire, while you still breathe.”
I cleared my tight throat. “That should put us close enough to each other for a tel death blow. We'll hold hands as we visit your Ten Gods.”
“You are insolent.”
“Yeah, I have to work on that.”
“Work harder, human. As we speak, our special unit is attacking the Cleocean village where your friends are hiding like the true cowards they are.” He walked around the desk and towered over me. “They have orders to bring back the human female alive.”
I tried to relax my tense shoulders, but my breath shuddered in my throat. “Another Terran amenity that I was promised?” I asked lightly.
“If you consider watching her roast in the fire pit as an amenity, then yes. On the other hand, it might assist you in your quest to renounce arrogance.”
