Another warning tingle forced Evan to move forward. He caught a glimpse of Martina, tears flowing down her face. "Don’t worry, Martina," he said to her, forcing a brave note into his cracking voice. "We’ll find you. Don’t worry. Be brave, okay?"
But Martina continued to cry silent tears.
Another warning tingle forced Evan to turn around and pay attention to where he was walking. Blanc wove her way up and down the yellow pathways between red platforms and green squares. She picked up half a dozen other humans-none of them were Real People-and finally headed for the double doors that lead out of the bidding room. Evan looked over his shoulder one more time but didn’t see Martina or Rhys.
The little group of humans walked quietly down the wide white corridor of the station. Large windows showed a spectacular view of an unfamiliar planet as it turned slowly toward darkness, and the stars behind it gleamed like grains of purest white desert sand scattered over a black mirror. Aliens in surprising shapes and colors walked, slithered, or scuttled past. Evan barely noticed any of it. Crushing sorrow rode his shoulders. He found he was holding his mother’s hand, though he didn’t remember taking it. Blanc walked ahead of them. Somewhere along the line, she had been joined by a man with whom she conversed in a low voice. Her husband? Another slave? Evan didn’t know, just as he didn’t know who had bought Keith and who had bought his father and sister-or if they had been bought at all. What happened to slaves who weren’t bid on? Were they killed? Imprisoned? Sold later? He had no idea. Not knowing, he thought, was the worst feeling of all.
The other slaves in the group, all dressed in white tunics and silvery wrist- and anklebands, walked obediently behind Blanc. Some of them wept silently, others remained stoic.
Several corridors later, they came to a series of airlocks. Blanc’s male companion chose one and cycled it open. The entry bay of a ship lay on the other side. All of a sudden it hit Evan hard. He had been sold, and his father, sister, and brother were gone. Once he left this station, he would never see them again. Panic suffused his chest and limbs. He turned and ran back up the corridor.
"Dad!" he shouted. "Martina!"
He got only a few meters before the pain knocked him flat. Evan struggled to his feet, ignoring the hands that grabbed at him. His bands glowed electric blue, but Evan’s feet carried him further along. The pain got worse. He was running over hot coals, through molten lava.
"Dad!"
The hands were on him again, and his bands glowed so brightly, they hurt his eyes. Raw, undiluted agony ripped his body to pieces. Evan fell, and blackness came before his body touched the floor.
The sun burned low in the cloudless sky, and the sandy soil was hot beneath Evan’s bare feet. His soles hurt, pierced countless times by spiny spinniflex and slashed by sharp rocks. His skin was dry, and it felt stretched over his body like a heated drum skin. Rhys and another man had started a fire of wood and dried animal dung. Keith-Utang-was skinning a big snake, clumsily but effectively, and Rebecca worked with another woman piling white grubs into big green leaves. They would roast in the fire, Evan knew, and his stomach twisted at the idea of eating them. Still, he knew he would. The grubs would contain moisture even after cooking, and they were worth eating for the water content alone. Rebecca rolled the first leaf shut, pushed it into the fire, and reached for another. The smell of roasting grubs wafted over the dry air, and the rocky Outback stretched empty in all directions.
Evan hated these trips. The hot sun, the constant thirst, eating things he would have only stepped on back home, stupid meditative exercises that were supposed to get them in tune with each other enough to use "head talk" instead of words to communicate, evenings spent listening to boring stories around a smelly fire, all in an attempt to rediscover "tribal ways." It was all stupid and pointless. The vast majority of Real People culture had long disappeared with the People themselves, either dead or swallowed up by mutant-white-society.
A curl of manure-scented smoke drifted into Evan’s eyes and he shifted position, trying to get out of the way without standing on his aching feet.
"Your feet will harden in time," said Neluukatelardin. "In the meantime, pay the pain no attention."
Evan glared at him. Neluukatelardin was a sort-of leader to the Real People Reconstructions movement, and he was currently lobbying for a tribal place on a colony ship that would soon leave for a planet named Pelagosa. The plan was to re-establish the Real People’s way of life in a place untouched by mutant society. Evan was far from thrilled with the idea, but his parents were seriously considering it.
Rebecca pulled the leaf from the fire with a pair of sticks and opened it. The grubs inside had turned into a sort of mush that looked almost like oatmeal. Keith, meanwhile, sliced the snake meat into chunks and skewered them on sticks which he passed around to the dozen-odd people surrounding the fire. Martina poked a hesitant finger into the grub mush, then scooped some up and ate it. Evan grimaced, but thirst forced him to reach for it.
Cold droplets landed on his head. Startled, Evan looked up. The Outback hadn’t seen rain in months, and the sky was cloudless. More droplets spattered him and dripped icily down the sides of his head. The sun set, and suddenly everything was dark. Even the campfire had vanished. After a moment, Evan realized his eyes were shut. Puzzled, he opened them.
The room was dim and gloomy. Evan lay on a pallet on the floor with a scratchy blanket drawn over him. A ceiling slanted high overhead, with dark beams rising into the shadows. The inside of Evan’s head felt fuzzy, and his mouth was dry. The Outback had been a dream? It had felt so real. Maybe this was the dream.
He put a hand to his forehead and found a dripping wet cloth. The cold felt good and helped clear his head. An odd sound came to his ears. He couldn’t place it. It reminded him of a lot of birds twittering, but that wasn’t quite it.
"How do you feel?"
Evan turned his head without sitting up. A boy with white-blond hair, pale blue eyes, and a deep suntan sat cross-legged next to the pallet. He looked to be Evan’s age, about twelve. His feet were bare, and he wore a brown shirt and shorts. A silver band encircled his left wrist and left ankle. Automatically Evan touched his own wrist. The metal shackle was still there.
"I’m …okay," Evan said slowly. "What’s going on? Where am I?"
"This is Mistress Blanc’s farm," the boy said. "You got here some hours ago, and they bad me keep an eye on you until you woke up. Nater-him that’s the headservant-Nater said they had to sedate you on the ship or you would have killed yourself."
Evan pushed himself gingerly upright, expecting dizziness or nausea but feeling neither. The cloth slid from his head and landed with a wet plop on the pallet. "Where’s my mom?"
"At house, I think." The boy dropped the cloth into a bucket. "She’s going to be working kitchen. You’re supposed to be working ponds with me. Come on. I’ll show you."
He unfolded long, skinny legs and got up. Evan didn’t move. "I want to see my mom."
The boy hesitated. "We’re pond hands. Muckers. We don’t go into house much. Mistress Blanc said you’ll be starting at ponds."
"I want to see my mom," Evan repeated stubbornly. What if they were lying and Rebecca was dead or sold to someone else? And she had to be worried about him. The boy gave him a reluctant look.
"I’ll bring you up to house," he said dubiously. "But I’m not promising nothin’. Come on."
Evan got up off the pallet and followed the boy to a chunky wooden ladder that lead down to a large main floor. It turned out they were in the loft of a barn-like structure. The place smelled of dust and straw. Several pallets were scattered across the floor, along with a few personal items and open wooden crates that stored clothes. Evan’s white tunic had been replaced with the same brown shorts and shirt the boy wore, and he wondered who had dressed him.
"I’m Pup," the boy said, starting down the ladder. Evan followed.
"I’m Evan," he said. A small shock hit him and he almost lost his grip on
the ladder. "Ow!"
Pup looked up at him. "Mistress said your name’s Lizard on account of you being so small and quick."
What? They were going to change his name? "My name is Evan," Evan repeated, and got another shock, stronger this time. "Hey!"
Pup shrugged, continued on down the ladder. "Mistress says your name is Lizard."
The main floor was piled with bales of golden straw. A pair of giant double doors that stretched up to the ceiling three stories above them gaped open just wide enough to let a person slip in or out. Sunshine poured through the gap, illuminating dust motes that hovered on the still air. The odd twittering noise was louder down here. Another wooden ladder lead up a loft opposite the one Evan and Pup had descended from.
"That’s the girl’s loft," Pup told him. "Boys aren’t allowed up there, and you’ll get a shock if you get too close."
He slipped through the gap in the doors. Evan followed him. The sunshine hit his eyes like a hammer, and the twittering noise burst into full volume around him. It was nearly deafening. He squinted and put a hand up to shield his face until his eyes adjusted. Evan caught his breath. Stretching into the distance before him was a field dotted with a series of ponds that made green and blue circles under a dazzling azure sky. Odd trees of a kind Evan had never seen before lined some of the ponds. Tall grass surrounded others, and a few had sandy shores. It was amazing. Australia had been battling constant drought when Evan had left, and he had never seen so much freestanding water in his life, except for the ocean.
A wide strip of green grass bisected by a dirt path separated the pond area from the barn, and Evan saw people moving along other pathways between the little pools, though he couldn’t make out what they were doing. The sun was hot overhead.
"What is it?" Evan asked, still awed at the water.
"Frog farm," Pup said. "We take care of the frogs. Come on-the house is this way."
Pup lead Evan around behind the barn and across another wide green field. The grass was soft and green under Evan’s soles. It felt soothing and pleasant. Plants in the Outback were scrubby, tough, and usually prickly, certainly no pleasure to walk on. Sydney was a place of concrete and broken glass. Walking barefoot on something soft was a new sensation.
Ahead of them lay a wide, white house, three stories tall, with a gently sloping red roof. Several outbuildings dotted the grass around it like chicks around a hen, and people moved slowly among them. Bright sunlight glittered off silver bands.
The slaves working around the house wore white, and Pup and Evan’s brown clothing drew baleful stares. Pup clearly felt uncomfortable but lead Evan around to a back door. The smells of yeast and onions floated on the air. Pup knocked shyly and a moment later, Rebecca stuck her head out. She wore a white blouse, white trousers, and a blue apron dusted with flour. Her silver wristband was coated with it.
"Mom," Evan said, and she gathered him into her arms even though he was as tall as she was. He stayed like that for a moment, pretending everything was safe and all right.
"Are you all right?" she asked. "They wouldn’t let me see you."
"I’m fine." He reluctantly backed up a step, ending the embrace. "This is Pup. He took care of me. He said my name is ‘Lizard’ now." He said the last with distaste.
"They call me ‘Bell,’ " Rebecca said. "Blanc-" she winced and clutched her wrist "-Mistress Blanc always renames her slaves. I guess everyone does. We’ll just have to live with it until we can figure out what else to do."
Evan gave a grim nod. A voice from inside the kitchen said, "Bell! We need that pastry rolled out!"
"I have to go," Rebecca said. "Here, hold on."
She vanished into the kitchen and came back with a pair of large rolls, which she handed to Evan and Pup. The latter snatched it eagerly. Evan realized he was hungry, too.
"I don’t know if they fed you or not," Rebecca said. "If you get short of food, come round and see me. I’ll see what I can do."
"Where are they keeping you?" Evan asked. "Where do you sleep?"
"In the garret with the others," she replied.
"Bell!"
"I’ll see you later." Rebecca stood on tiptoe to kiss the top of Evan’s head and vanished back into the house.
CHAPTER TWO
Every so often, life just sucks
— Yeoman Daniel Vik
"Come on," Pup said, his mouth full of bread. "I’m supposed to show you around."
He took Evan back around the house toward the pond area, and they ate as they walked. The rolls had a spicy meat filling that tasted unfamiliar to Evan, but he was hungry enough not to care.
The heat lay hard on the boys as they walked. The very air itself was heavy with moisture, and Evan’s shirt began to stick to his back. He felt as if he were pushing his way through the muggy air. He had never felt anything like it in arid Australia, and he found it a little hard to breathe as they reached the first pond, which was partly shaded by a large tree. The shore of the pond had been landscaped so that several strips of raised earth extended like curving fingers into the water. The twittering noises continued, punctuated by odd glumps, and Evan realized it was the sound of frogs. When Evan and Pup reached the pond shore, alarmed plopping sounds greeted them, and a host of ripples scampered across the water. A moment later, several dozen bulbous eyes goggled suspiciously at the boys from the pond’s surface.
"These’re American bullfrogs," Pup said. "We have sixteen ponds of them. That’s the most. They’re used in laboratories and for eating." He squatted and held out a bit of bread from his roll. A blur of movement launched itself out of the water with a great splash. Evan jumped and Pup snatched his hand back. The bread was gone.
"They eat bread?" Evan said.
"They eat just about anything," Pup replied, wiping his hand on his shirt. "Crickets, worms, fish, mice-"
"Mice?"
Pup nodded. "They eat anything that fits in their mouths, so don’t hold out anything they shouldn’t have. They got no teeth, though, so you don’t need to worry about getting bit."
"Why is the pond shaped funny?" Evan asked.
"They all want their own bit of land," Pup said. "There ain’t enough shore for all of them, so we make more. Otherwise they’d fight all day." He gestured toward another set of ponds. "Over there are the bubble frogs. They’re valuable because they ooze this stuff that can be made into a couple of different drugs. The tree dumpies in that pond cure cancer. The winslows over that way are mostly pets but there’s some alien race that thinks they’re sacred and they buy ‘em by the hundreds. They live a long time."
The boys walked among the ponds as Pup talked on and on about frogs, and Evan’s head swam with information. Warm mud squished between his toes, and the hot sun alternated with cool shade as they made their way between trees of varying sizes. Pup explained that some frogs needed sun, others needed shade, and still others needed both, and every tree was carefully placed with the frogs’ needs in mind. Some places were more like small swamps than ponds because breeds like tomato frogs needed to burrow more than they needed to swim. The ponds themselves were sometimes clear, sometimes muddy, sometimes covered with floating plant life. Twitters, mutters, glumps, cheeps, and splashes followed them everywhere, though Evan saw very few actual frogs. The ones Evan did see, however, came in a surprising variety of sizes and colors, ranging from plain green to milky white to blaze orange. They crouched on banks or hid among weeds or floated serenely on water.
Evan and Pup also encountered several brown-clad slaves, all human, ranging in age from a bit younger than Pup to gray, wrinkled oldsters. They variously worked with shovels, knelt among greenery, stood knee-deep in water, thrashed the air with nets, or popped squirming frogs into covered baskets. Pup waved to most of them, and they waved back or called greetings. He paused by one woman who stood next to a pond with a large mesh cage, her hand on the clasp.
"Feedin’ time, Grace?" Pup said.
"Sure is," she replied. "Want to watch?"
<
br /> "Yeah." Pup cocked a thumb in Evan’s direction. "This is Lizard. He came in with that other lot."
"Actually," Evan put in, "my name’s Evan, not-" A shooting pain drove up his arm, interrupting him. Evan grunted and grabbed his wrist.
"Your name’s Lizard," Pup said a bit sharply. "That shock was in case you forget. There’s a computer in your bands. It listens to what you say, so you better learn quick."
Evan bristled but didn’t reply. His name was Evan, not Lizard. Maybe he couldn’t say it aloud, but that didn’t mean he’d lost it or accepted the change. Grace, meanwhile, nodded at him. She was a short, sturdy woman, deeply tanned with short black hair that curled tightly across her scalp. A black mass seethed inside the mesh cage with a slight hissing noise. Evan looked at it intently, changing the subject without actually saying anything.
"Crickets," Grace explained. "Don’t try this at home."
In one smooth motion she opened the cage and swept it in an arc. A small cloud of insects scattered over the pond, dropping into the water with a drawn-out splash. The pond instantly erupted in bubbles. The water thrashed and frothed. A few moments later, it calmed again. More peeps and croaks peppered the air. Evan didn’t see a single remaining cricket.
"Piranha frogs," Grace said. "They got no teeth-no frog has-but they’re so aggressive you’d hardly notice."
Evan was impressed despite his anger. "Do they attack the other frogs?"
"They would if we let ‘em," Grace said. "But we got a whole bunch of sensors in the ground and in the trees. They notice a frog leaving its habitat, and it gets zapped with sub-sonics. We can’t hear it, but they can, and it sends ‘em straight back. Otherwise we’d have to use wire fences." She closed the cage. "What are you two on for today?"
Pup shrugged. "I’m showing Lizard-" Evan bristled again "-around a bit. Easy day for me."
"Then you can help me for a minute," Grace said. "Here. Take this back to the bug barn and bring back a full one. Make sure they’re dusted."
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