by Lindsay Peet
CHAPTER SEVEN
Jedub was snared immediately, of course. Turned out the co-pilot and a buddy had mis-jumped to Caliuga not long before us, and being somewhat bent they’d naturally ended up in Solip City. Not too long before those two and Jedub had been part of a gang that sometimes smuggled and sometimes raided well-laden merchant ships, and the gang’s breakup hadn’t been exactly amicable. In fact, Jedub had made off with things that weren’t his – I have to wonder, among thieves how can you tell who owns what? – then he’d gone to Mobahey awhile to lay low, because he figured nobody would find him there. So he’d lied about being stranded on Mobahey; no surprise there, I guess. And then Caliuga had looked like an even safer hideout for him, until that moment.
Jedub sized up the situation and made the right call – he sold us out. We never even left the dock. After waiting a bit with Zeno while the authorities took care of ‘technical problems’ he finally hauled Wanliet and me off to the hoosegow without respect or ceremony, leaving all our lovely and sumptuous wardrobes behind. Crazy universe, eh?
Wanliet and I were separated, and after plummeting down in an elevator and being frog-walked down a corridor I found myself in a cell, a properly barren elongated cube with a bed, minimal plumbing, and no openings excepting the door, which became the center of my universe. Solip City was fairly new, but they’d planned ahead. If they knew what they were doing they’d let me imagine what lay in store, psych myself up for the horrors and pain I felt sure were coming, tenderizing my resolve. For me the greatest tortures were the ones I contrived in my own skull. Not that it really mattered; I was willing to talk, as long as I could walk out. The primary job of any living thing is to stay alive and healthy, and I believe in doing my job. Lying on my bunk I came to believe that they knew what they were doing.
The trick would be convincing my captors of my complete candor before things got too out of hand. Few things are more frustrating and humbling than baring your soul and being found wanting.
I couldn’t be sure without a clock or a window, but I believe it wasn’t until the next day that Zeno An-Tuin came to visit. “Mr. Daskal, or whatever your name is, whoever you are – you’ve made a serious error. The Ambassador and the Council are very disappointed in you and your “Inspector General”. Here they thought deals could be worked out, arrangements made, and now we’ve learned that you two are frauds! And not very good ones, either – failing to eliminate that scoundrel Jedub around was a tremendous faux pas.
“Now, we mean to get to the bottom of all this. You may, or may not, present a threat to the Planetary Union. You might even prove to be an asset. Either way, we’re going to inflict pain. Because we must know, you see, and because I don’t like you. Life is good when you enjoy your work, don’t you agree, Jaf?” Normally I like to see people smile, but Zeno’s was reptilian; maybe he was related to Basoolah by blood, but there was no doubt they were related by temperament. “I’ll be back in a little bit – or, maybe a little bit longer. Why don’t you just relax, take a nap, maybe; you’ll need your rest for what’s ahead.” Zeno rapped on the door, the guard opened it and he left.
I’ve heard being condemned focuses the mind wonderfully. Anticipating torture has much the same result, but the focus is entirely on the pain. Meditation was impossible, as my body kept sending distress signals to my brain. How long I waited, dreading Zeno’s return I can’t say, but the cell reeked of terror-sweat before I was removed. My clothes were worse, of course, and the bedsheets were damp too. I must have lost a liter of sweat, and it was all rank. When I was marched out I was almost grateful, both for ending the wait, and for taking me to fresher air. Still, I expected the worst when we entered another underground room.
It was there that I met the most fantastic citiject of Caliuga – the Daftaly. Like some other titles I heard, I don’t know what it indicated, but the ‘who’ it indicated was extraordinary. I was conducted into her presence like she was royalty, or famous, but her chambers were not so grand. They had to be sizable, because the Daftaly was huge, a kind of human layer-cake. From the top; she wore a hat like a truncated cone, atop glossy dark hair that flowed down out of my sight; her eyes, half-hidden by folds of skin, gazed out with a snake-like serenity. Her nostrils loomed like huge caverns above broad fleshy lips. Below these, chins were stacked atop her massive shoulders. Her breasts swelled from her blouse, supported by her enormous belly. Submerged below all were her hips, and I suppose buttocks, and then, well, I guess, the usual. Normally I’m not attracted to the grossly obese, although I’ve never minded plumpness, but the Daftaly exuded an incredible sensuous aura, acutely attuned to her environments, internal and external. Immediately I sized her up as a woman who knew how to drive a man to incredible ecstatic heights, or exquisite tortures. Considering my circumstances I feared the worst.
She inhaled sharply, analyzed the air and then smiled.“Mr. Daskal, it’s obvious you’ve been concerned about your predicament,” she purred, savoring the words. Her nostrils flared, and she said, “It may come as a relief to you to learn that your concern was not without good cause.” Then she smiled again and added, “Or, perhaps it will not be a relief.” Her brow furrowed, her gaze lifted diagonally, and she asked, “Were you horseback riding recently south of Caliuga City?” Dumbstruck, I nodded; she and Wanliet could have quite a little discussion of the resins of the area, I imagined. It seems her her fingers, eyes, ears but most especially her nose and mouth were adept at analyzing and describing substances. I wondered if she was some kind of lie-detector – I hoped so, as the sooner I could convince them I wasn’t lying or holding back the sooner we could get past the nasty painful torture part and get to the begging and pleading parts. Shaking her great head, she drank some wine, paused to evaluate it, and continued.
“It appears you may have some knowledge we need, and I’m here to assist in its acquisition and in determining its value. Please, make yourself comfortable,” she urged, pointing a finger lazily at an old-fashioned dental chair, with the bright light overhead and shiny tools neatly arrayed at the practitioner’s elbow. This one had straps, too. Lamblike I laid down in the recliner and was strapped down. I refused, though, to open wide.
Until they removed my shoes, and the wonderful soft socks given to me in Caliuga City. In terror I strained against the straps, my head rolled left and right, merely confirming my helplessness. Then Zeno arrived, smiling.
“Don’t!” I almost shrieked – okay, I did shriek. Then I babbled. “I’ll tell you what you want to know. Yes, it was a fraud, a con, but we didn’t mean any harm, just wanted to have some fun and get some gelt and leave! But we couldn’t figure how how to leave, so we just went along with it all, we had to! That’s all there is, you have to believe me!”
“How very odd,” answered Zeno. “That’s exactly the story Jedub told. You must have prepared a cover story for just such a situation, eh, Jaf? I hadn’t figured you to be so methodical.” As he spoke his voice moved slowly around the chair, a hand adjusted the light slightly to ensure it blinded me, but off to one side I could sense the Daftaly’s bulk, and hear her chortling underneath Zeno’s words. “We’ll get through that, though, yes we will. Yes, to discover the truth will take some time, and effort, I can tell. But, not to worry, Jaf – time we have in abundance, and I’m eager for the effort..” His voice smiled, somehow cold.
The Daftaly’s silky voice took a turn. “You may recognize this as a dentist’s chair. Now, obviously, if Inspector An-Tuin mutilates your mouth we can’t very well converse, you and I, so we must save that for the finale. No, Mr. Daskal, our intention is to begin elsewhere. For whatever comfort it may give you, we mean to start as far away from your mouth as possible – with your soles. Are you aware of how many nerve endings are in the bottoms of your feet? Soon, you will be. And, to ensure you don’t accidentally hurt your tongue while we’re distracted, we shall provide you with a protective device. Fear not, we shall have our delicious chat, and gather the fruits of our efforts, when the moment is
ripe. Remove his clothes, put in the gag” she ordered and immediately sharp blades traced over my skin and, with a bit of tugging, I lay there naked, quivering, terrified. I’ve heard that some men like being bound up naked; I’m not among them. The very thought makes me retch in terror. I was about to move to my next level of terrified speech, whining and whimpering when Zeno stuffed something in my mouth. Seamlessly then he picked up the Daftaly’s thread – they made a good team.. “So many choices, so many ways to learn what we want to know. And, now ….”
With that I heard a whooshing noise, a slap, and then my head exploded as the pain from my soles rocketed to my cranium and detonated there. The gag worked admirably. My eyes almost bugged out, and were in turn dazzled by the lamp. I turned my head wildly side to side, pleading mutely with my eyes, and then I heard the whoosh-slap again.
The second blow was worse, if you can imagine that. The flesh was already sore, laid open I would have bet, and then came another blow. Some complain about when insult is added to injury, but adding injury to injury is worse, believe me. My eyes were tearing, and my ears were filled with the roar of my own anguish. I laid there, blind and whimpering, dreading the next blow, and whimpering.
Suddenly the eyeball-blistering light was turned off and the straps undone. Gingerly pushing myself up I saw Ambassador An-Tine was there, gazing placidly at me. I tore away the gag and roared as best I could, “Are you people mad?! You already know everything!? How could you let this fiend loose on another human?”
An-Tine ignored my questions and wrinkled his nose. “Take him back, he needs to clean up” he commanded, and I was wrapped in a robe, hauled up by my arms and past a smiling Daftaly and a grimacing Zeno then dragged off down a corridor, to the elevator, and finally out, frantic the whole way with fear, dreading whatever fiendish torment awaited me. We came to a guarded door, it was opened, and I was tossed in. Another split-second decision; what part of my body did I want to land on? Trying to save my soles I ended landing on my tailbone, then I spun a bit and tumbled sideways to a stop.
I found myself back in our original quarters upstairs with Wanliet, and he was looking far fitter than I felt. The lock clicked behind, and we both knew that now the guards were there to keep us in, not to keep others out so much. I crawled to a sofa, climbed on, and showed Wanliet my feet. “Finally baring your sole to me, Jaf?” I couldn’t help myself, I laughed and wept. “The skin’s not broken, but every step will be agony. Maybe wear extra socks.” My crazy mind wondered what had happened to my socks, my wonderful socks?! For his own nose’s sake as much as my well-being Wanliet took me in the bathroom and helped me clean up, and then he got me a change of clothes from our luggage which had been returned to our quarters. I crawled out to the sofa again, and sighed. The charade was over, and we could talk now. Evidently Wanliet felt the same. “I don’t know if this is a good time, or a bad time, to say this – but I had a thought about where we are.”
“In hell?” I ventured.
“No, no, I mean Caliuga. Where it is. It hit me the other day, but I hadn’t found a good time to mention it – and, truth be told, I did forget once or twice – we were having a lotta fun, weren’t we? But, it’s like this – the ship might have figured out where we are.”
“But she was supposed to radio us when she did, and we never got a signal,” I objected.
“About that signal -- we take a lot for granted. Remember, Jaf, we landed behind the mountains near Caliuga town, and there’s another range between there and here. There’s no way the signal could reach us. We’re so used to having relays and satellites that we forgot about line-of-sight and all that.”
If I hadn’t been lying down I would have sat down; as it was, I could only slump further under the weight of my ignorance. Habit suggested I start pacing, then sense thought better of it, and I paced only in my mind. “For a clever guy, I can sure be slow sometimes.” When my mind reached the end of the room, I turned my head toward him. “You didn’t figure out about the balls, too, did you?” I asked weakly.
“I have an idea or two about those, too. Keepin’ those to myself, for now, though – won’t make any difference unless we get out of here anyway.”
“Any ideas about that, then?”
“Sure, sure, the P. U. wants to enlist us, An-Tine told me, keep us as dummy ambassadors of the Empire – underlining, instead of undermining, their authority that way. Right now nobody knows we’ve been compromised, so we can go on as we were, but we’ll be in the P. U.’s hip pocket.
“Beyond that, we can hope that Lordano can work out something,” he continued.
“Yes, we can Lordano something work out hope can work, out, hope …” my parody faded away with my hopes that he could be our salvation.
I’ll admit that sometimes my life has seemed so strange that I’ve been half-convinced I am living in some graphic novel, and then stepped outside and marveled at where I was, what I’d been, what was happening. Right then it occurred to me that it would be fitting if I suddenly discovered that the buddy of the co-pilot who’d outed Jedub turned out to be an old friend of mine, and he was at that moment devising a plan to help get us out. Yeah, that’s what should happen right now, I figured. That would be just about right. For better or for worse, though, it turned out that I wasn’t the one writing my adventure, and that our rescue would come from another source. In the meantime I sat and thought and wondered and whimpered some more.
If we got out the ship might be able to guide us home after all, with the treasure balls, and we’d be in great shape, even better if only we knew what the balls were.
Maybe the PU’s plan was the way to go, we could play-act and maybe even do some good. It would be good for us, at least, surely better than the alternative. There are certain advantages to being the adjutant to the Inspector General, even if you’re both counterfeit.
Strange things happen in this crazy universe, eh? And crazy things happen in this strange universe, too!
