“Probably it’s just simple statistics,” Mikal mused. “Your Family is not large, and the Klensers aren’t a large percentage of Vultairian population. The ones here, come from all over the planet after all, so even if it seems like there are lots, compared to the world’s total population, that’s not really true.”
“Yeah, the Government has been doing a bang-up job of collecting them onto the Farms for a long time now,” Jock agreed, shaking his head. “One of the first things that I want to see changed. These people should have a life, especially since they are a very valuable component of the economy. Trouble is, they never ask for anything for themselves.”
“Well, maybe with this ‘Klenser United Front’ that’s changing,” said Kati, reading a sign someone had made, and set up. “Maybe the Spirits of the Land have woken up to the fact that it’s not enough for humans to be alive. We have to feel that we’re usefully functioning parts of our societies, too.”
“Of course, the Klensers have always been that,” Jock pointed out. “Even when most of their lives were spent in a trance, as long as they were working now and then, they were extremely valuable members of our society. What they could do by virtue of their genetics was so worthwhile that there was never any need to stretch their abilities; they could sleep away the rest of their days.”
“Which is one reason why they were so useful to the status quo,” added Mikal. “They provided the economic underpinning for the world, and never had any incentive to express dissatisfaction with their lot in life. The perfect underclass don’t you think?”
“And before Kati came and taught Zass to drum and sing, it never occurred to the rest of us that they could be more than that. Even in Ithcar, and the Underground Base, no-one thought to encourage self-expression among the Klensers, although we never mistreated them. We just looked after them when they were inactive, and made use of their talents when there was need. What kind of fools does that make us?”
“That’s the trouble with societies that remain static too long,” Mikal said, in what Kati recognized (with an inward smile) as his ‘lecturing mode’. “Much that is worthwhile slips into latency, and simply is not used. Of course there are always portions of the population that seethe with discontent; that would have been the various facets of the Underground, here on Vultaire. And the strata of the population that has control, the longer it remains in power, the more decadent it grows, hanging on to privilege using more and more questionable tactics, spending excess talent and energy in pursuits that ought to be discouraged. It slowly disintegrates, refusing to acknowledge that its glory days are over, and shoring up its position unethically.”
“So you’re saying, in effect,” muttered Jock, “that Vultaire was ripe for change. That it was bound to happen, whether or not we had Federation help?”
“Xoraya is a student of human history on Xeonsaur, and has access, at her Institute, to records spanning immense stretches of our time,” Mikal explained. “She and I had plenty of time to talk on the way from the Xeon Space Station to the Federation one. To her, The Node War and the Reconciliation are recent history. What’s happening here, she told me, is a variation on a common theme, although there are some local eccentricities, like the presence of the Klensers in the population.
“My take is, however, that for Vultaire, the presence of the Federation has been as detrimental an influence as it now is a useful one. The Federation has its own problems with the desire of the powerful to entrench themselves, and the Vultairian oligarchs used that to their advantage. How else to explain the fact that the Federation officials looked away while the Oligarchs denied the general population the translation nodes, and instead used the nodes they received as trade goods among the Fringe Planets?”
“Wouldn’t the Brain Planet have known that this was going on?” Kati asked.
“Without doubt,” Mikal concurred. “But the Brain Planet wouldn’t have cared. It would have been delighted to have its bits spread far and wide. It’s into gathering information.”
“Your Mikal has Mama’s number,” the Monk subvocalized. “She’s a glutton for knowledge.”
*****
“I do hope that one of you is going to ask the burning question: Where have they stashed all the off-world slaves?” Uncle Kelt said to Kati, Jock and Mikal after Maric had been introduced, and Mikal had met Hector and Jorun.
Jock had murmured something about a convention of Carmaks Family men, when they had reached Marku’s Terrace and he had seen the four men seated in Uncle Kelt’s usual corner. Kati had pointed out that Jorun was not a Carmaks, but Jock’s retort to that had been that he might as well be, and likely could be considered an honorary member. Mikal had been looking around while this exchange was going on, noting the strategic locations of the Torrones Warriors sprinkled among the tables; someone had obviously told them of the kidnapping at the Paradiso Cafe, on the Federation Space Station.
Marku had welcomed the three of them himself, and had pushed a second table against that at which the Carmaks party sat. He had then taken their beer orders and left to fill them, telling the newcomers that he would send a waiter to take their food orders forthwith.
Mikal grinned at Kelt Carmaks.
“So where have they stashed the off-world slaves?” he inquired.
Uncle Kelt nodded at young Maric, who looked like he was about to burst.
“In the cellar rooms under The Prison Complex, out beyond the Law Courts,” the youth answered, his eyes shining.
“In cellar rooms under The Prison Complex?” Jock asked, sounding puzzled. “What cellar rooms? I’ve never heard of anything like that.”
“You and just about everyone else on planet,” Maric responded with a huge grin. “I think that the old cellar rooms and passages were forgotten long ago by most people, the knowledge kept alive only among select government people. I wouldn’t be surprised if even the goons working as prison guards have no idea where some of the locked doors in their buildings would lead, if they had the keys to open them. Fortunately a couple of my Vanta cousins are nosy parkers, and they happened, during their wanderings when they had nothing better to do, to open a forgotten, almost hidden door.
“The younger of the two had recently got his node, and the two of them were curious as to how much they could count on the nodes. So they explored the whole complex of the underground passages and empty rooms that they found, and discovered that all of it was located under the Prison Complex. So when Vi Vanta, who is the granddaughter of Senate Chair Sartose, mentioned that she had heard her grandmother say that the slaves were to be ‘stashed in the cellar rooms’, my cousin Jael knew exactly where that was. I got Jael to go with me to check out the place, and sure enough, there are people locked up in some of the rooms that Jael remembers as being empty when she last was down in the cellars.
“We called to them through the doors, and got an answer from one room. A woman’s voice asked me if I knew Kati of Terra, and to tell her, if I saw her, that I had talked to Ingrid. And that she and the green girls are getting weaker; she doesn’t know how much longer she can hang on—especially stuck underground. I’m presuming that you know what she was talking about.”
“Damn!” Mikal swore before Kati had a chance to comment. “That is not good! We’ll have to act soon. How long ago did you talk to her, Maric?”
“It was last night, some hours after suppertime when Jael took me there,” Maric replied. “It was full dark by the time we got back up above ground, and made our way back to the Legislative Grounds. Is there a serious problem?”
Mikal ran fingers through his hair, looking concerned.
“Shit! If those girls die....” He drew a breath. “It would be better all around if they didn’t, but they’re definitely in the danger zone, especially if Ingrid is wearing herself out—and it would be a miracle if she wasn’t. I’m rather flabbergasted that she’s been able to do as much as she obviously has; I’ve never heard of Grenies staying alive this far from their home planet fo
r months at a stretch. Normally Grenies simply don’t leave Paradiso; it’s too dangerous.”
“So what are they doing here on Vultaire? Why were they brought here, I wonder?” Hector asked. “Sounds futile to me, and hardly worth the trouble.”
“Roxanna said when she came to the Underground Base that the Malaudins were harvesting their bodily fluids, tears especially,” Jorun said. “Sweat, also. All their clothes, their bed-clothes, handkerchiefs and such were handled separately by the staff. They were thoroughly rinsed and wrung out, and the resulting liquid was boiled down to a manageable amount, which was stored in jugs. An Exalted person would pick up the jugs, usually one of the Malaudins, but occasionally someone from another family, Roxanna did not know which one. She got her information by keeping her eyes open, and by talking with the Ordinary Citizens on the staff.”
“She talked to me about it, too, when the Troupe was visiting the Underground Base,” Kati added. “She thought it was really weird, couldn’t figure out what it was all about, except that clearly somebody wanted something that only those girls were shedding.”
“There’s the mind-tangler lab that the Margolises have on their Island Estate,” Mikal suggested. “Maybe what the girls shed is the magic ingredient in the formula that Xanthus Hsiss came up with, and which the slavers found so useful that they put together a manufacturing enterprise here on Vultaire—and probably others much like it elsewhere, likely on the Fringe Worlds.”
“Yuck,” Kati muttered, her face distorted.
“But rather likely, isn’t it?” Jock commented. “And your friend Ingrid’s ability to keep those girls alive in spite of their natural predilection, and the mistreatment they have no doubt had to endure—that’s the easiest way to get girls to cry, after all—has made her quite valuable to the Malaudins whose minions presumably are doing the collecting.”
“So, we gonna sit here and talk about it, or are we gonna to take a few of those black-skinned, well-armed goons and go bust these folk out of that cellar?” Maric broke in. “You have the authority to do that, Mikal, right?” he immediately added, looking at the Federation operative questioningly.
Mikal burst out laughing at the youth’s enthusiasm.
“Don’t let the Torrones hear you call them ‘goons’,” he warned the lad. “The proper term is ‘Warriors’. And these are Warriors A-Class; about as far from goons as humans carrying arms can get. And I actually have to consult Arya r’pa Dorral about taking any of them on a sortie, but now that we know where the slaves are being kept and that it is urgent to get them away from those cellars, that should be easy.”
“You’re certain that you can lead a troop to where the slaves have been stashed, Maric?” Hector asked.
“Oh yes, but if you’d rather, I could get Jael to lead us there,” Maric said.
“No,” Uncle Kelt protested immediately. “Let’s leave Jael out of this. Her sympathies may be with us but she’s a Vanta, nevertheless, and Molly is the only Vanta I trust wholeheartedly.”
“And Mom’s not a Vanta anymore,” Maric added with a grin. “Or so she says. She says that she’s more of a Carmaks than if she had been born a Carmaks. Which is actually why I do trust Jael some. Sometimes the Exalted women have more sense than their menfolk.”
“You’ll have to meet Joaley, my red-headed colleague,” Kati said with a grin. “She would appreciate your point of view. But, Mikal, could we get this plan moving? I’m worried about Ingrid and the green girls.”
“Could the little round man who is doing such good work among the Ordinary Citizens, healing their hurts and illnesses, help with the enslaved female and her protégés?” Uncle Kelt asked. “I went and introduced myself to him earlier, and he was quite pleased to meet me—told me that he had been instructed by Mikal and Kati of Terra to look me up in the Capital City, but had not done so because the Klensers had requested his help for the Citizens who were aiding them in every way they could, but some of whom had serious health issues.”
“We could ask him—I believe that the Master Healer took a com with him when he left the Cruiser,” Mikal replied. “But I do have to talk with Arya before we proceed, and she is with the Senate Chair Sartose.”
“Can you reach her on your com?” Uncle Kelt asked. “I’m assuming that your communications cannot be monitored with our technology?”
“Yes to both questions,” Mikal answered.
“Then get in touch with her, immediately if not sooner,” the older Vultairian said, a sly grin spreading across his face. “Tell her that we know where the off-world slaves are, and that, with her permission, we’ll go after them, with the help of a half-dozen, or so, Torrones Warriors. Mention that for health reasons that have come to our attention, it is imperative that we act without delay. Advice her that she may use this information in her negotiations with the Senate Chairwoman, if she is careful.
“Sartose has lost her wager in this runnerbeast race, I think. She may go ballistic and order her bodyguards to do something very stupid when she realizes that her secrets have tumbled out.”
“Arya can switch the communicator to be heard by the Torrones Warriors who are acting as her bodyguards,” Mikal said. “I’ll suggest that she do so. That’ll bring a contingent of the Warriors here, too—assuming that Arya agrees to our venture, and I don’t see why she wouldn’t. I’ll also relay a request that Master Healer Vorlund join us. The Warriors will bring him here, and inform him and those with whom he has been working, that it’s a matter of life and death.”
Maric watched Mikal wide-eyed, while the latter talked into his com in a low voice. It dawned on Kati, as she eyed the two, that this portion of her and Mikal’s quest was near the end. They were about to free a contingent of the slaves that Gorsh had gathered from the ends of the universe, and sold into Vultairian hands. Among them were Ingrid, the four girls she was protecting, and several ‘Murra’s boys’ of whom Kati had seen a few at the Malaudin House brothel.
Mikal finished communing with the com.
“I called Malin, too,” he said, taking a sip of his beer, “and he’s keen on being in on the rescue of the Grenie girls. He thinks that it may help to have someone along who can speak their language, besides Ingrid, obviously. He’s bringing Rakil and Lank to bolster the troops—they know where the garage to park the flyer is. Joaley’s not happy about being relegated to nursemaid duties, but someone has to stay with the patients. She understands that, and the Torrones know that the VIP we were searching for is recuperating at Nelli’s Inn, so they’re providing extra protection.”
“As long as they don’t scare Nelli and her family,” Jock muttered.
Mikal grinned.
“They won’t. I told them that the Ordinary Citizens running that Inn had already provided Xoraya Hsiss and the woman who was kidnapped with her with exemplary care, and that they should be allowed to continue to do so without interference. The Torrones Chief of Operations told me that he would consider the Vultairians in the Inn to be under his protection.”
“It’s rather amazing to see those guys take orders from you, and that little pale lady, in such a respectful fashion,” Hector said. “It’s been fun watching the local grandees choke on their bile as they gaze upon it.”
“There are excellent historical reasons for the Torrones’ willingness to work with Lamanians and anyone the Lamanians claim as their own,” Mikal explained. “Reasons which you, Vultairians, as members of the Federation, would be quite familiar with if your elites had been doing their jobs. Even the Exalted have been kept woefully ignorant, it seems to me.”
“It’s easier to control the ignorant, than those who understand what is going on,” Jorun said quietly.
“You’ve got that right,” Uncle Kelt noted. “We’ll have our work cut out, for some time to come, just informing the population of all that they need to know. I’ll have to do some serious studying myself.”
“You’ll get a Lamanian-trained team to help with that, before those of us who have o
ther work still to do leave you to put your world back together.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
“I asked Arya not to drop the info bomb on Sartose until we were actually in the cellars,” Mikal said in a low voice to the group gathered outside Marku’s.
Everyone who was to take part in the operation had arrived. Mikal and Kelt had agreed that the people who would participate in the sortie should meet outside, in the quiet side street which Marku’s establishment abutted. The gathering was less conspicuous there than it would have been either in the Bistro or in front of it. Even as it was, it was fairly obvious that something was going on, considering how eclectic the gathering was. Five Vultairians, four of them from the Carmaks Exalted Family, six short (by Vultairian standards) off-worlders, and as many of the dangerous-looking dark-skinned Warriors; certainly an odd group.
“Are these underground rooms guarded?” Vonn, the Leader of the Torrones unit, asked.
All eyes turned to Maric who was to be showing the way.
“If there are guards, they’re up on the ground level, at entrances which we’re not going to be using,” he replied. “When I was down there with Jael, we saw nobody other than ourselves, and after the guards who brought people down had left, we only heard the sounds of those behind the locked doors. We banged on the doors, and shouted to them, but got an answer from only one of the rooms; that was from Kati of Terra’s friend Ingrid, who responded to my questions.”
“These Oligarchs seem pretty confident that no-one knows of the place, to not even guard the doors,” muttered Vonn.
“Oh, I think that they are, and with reason,” Kelt Carmaks told him. “I, for one, haven’t had a clue about the existence of the cellars under The Prison Complex, and I’ve been a part of the government for a quarter of a century now, although never in the inner circles. We only know about them because a couple of teenagers were bored with their aimless lives, found an interesting door among the shrubbery which no-one had thought to lock or cement over, and went inside to explore.”
On Assignment to the Planet of the Exalted Page 79
