Only Human (28 page)

 "I've told you my story," Nova
said. She nibbled her food. "You people ever hear of spices?"

Greah rose and hunted around their campsite
for a while. When he returned he showed her his find of velvety, succulent
leaves. Nova imitated him when he showed her how to wrap the leaves around a
morsel of dough, giving moisture to their preserved food. She succeeded making
a bite-sized wad and tasted it.

"Ugh!" She spat. "You people
are so weird!" She gave her herbs back to him, preferring the dry dough to
the bitter taste imparted by the greenery.

Greah laughed, accepting her strangeness.
"Tell me about the people on all those planets." His thin arm
stretched to the sky.

She looked up at the stars. "There are
a lot of them, aren't there? Not all of those stars have planets, mind you, but
there are hundreds that we know of. We haven't even begun to travel to them.
Someday, maybe, but not in our lifetime. We're stuck in this little part of our
galaxy for now. Less than one planet in many thousands can be visited by people
like you and me. Sometimes a few habitable planets are close enough together
for trade and commercial traffic, like in Trans-Targon and Terra-Centauri. That
is what the Union tries to encourage. It profits through investment. Some day,
your people can sell your leathers to any planet that wants them and ship them
there with your own freighters. Until then, outside traders or Union shipping
companies do that for you. We sometimes call that Single Reach Commerce.
Shipping costs increase with every jump you make." Her eyes continued to
search the overhead patterns. "It takes three jumps to get here from
Targon if you use the stable sites. You can make it in one, but that takes a
huge amount of energy and a very good spanner. And a keyhole, of course. If you
don’t have even the tiniest of anomalies to breach, you couldn’t get to a place
even if it was the system next door.”

“Is that how you got here? Through a
keyhole?”

“No, there isn’t one that leads here. At
least not one that we’ve been able to find. We had to come the long way.”

"I know that a long time ago my people
thought that your people came from the gods. But you didn't look like our
gods."

"Well, we're supposed to leave planets
like yours alone and let them evolve for a few more generations. 'Course, Tharron
isn't up to date on our policies. Then you've got private traders that think
nothing of going wherever they want to make profit. With all her good intentions,
the Union is the last outsider to get here." She looked up again. "So
you see, there aren't many 'stars' for us to travel to."

He snickered. "And meanwhile you fight
over those that you can reach."

"Yeah, we do. We're a vicious
breed." She picked at the dry lumps of food in her hand.           

"I suppose wars are bound to happen
when everyone's so different."

"Wars happen because we are the
same."

"The same!"

She nodded. "Sure, we breathe the same
air, eat the same food, mostly, and water is water everywhere. Of course, some
of us have adapted to the conditions on our native planets. There are some
differences like between you and me or Ty and me or," she looked around.
"Or that sandrunner and an ostrich. Compared to what people imagined and
what could have been, your four knees or my ears don't make for much diversity.
I don't know why we all evolved more or less the same. I don't think anyone
knows."

"That would speak against evolution,
wouldn't it?" Greah said thoughtfully. "If evolution had its way, we wouldn't
all look the same."

"It might, if we all
started
in
the same place. I don't lose any sleep over any of this. It doesn't matter. I
call us humanoids but here we're all lumped under "Class One" which
just means sentient. Which, most comforting, puts us in a class with
Rhuwacs."

"Can I leave here with you'n Ty?"
Greah asked suddenly, as if that thought had not been foremost on his mind
since meeting Nova.

"With us?" Nova shook her head.
"No, we can't take civilians aboard unless it's Union business."

"Like planning to take Kira to the
Outlands?"

She grimaced.

"There are exceptions," he
smiled, satisfied.

"Go to sleep," Nova curled up
close to the heated stone between them.

Greah watched her for a moment. His eyes
traveled to the night sky and his narrow chest rose with a wistful sigh. Then
he got up and wandered around their camp, searching the horizon. All was quiet;
no one there.

Brightness. Sudden, brilliant brightness
drove through his eyes and into his brain like a red hot skewer. It was not the
light of day that poured through the opened door but the harsh glare of a
diffused laser. The light dimmed momentarily when someone moved between it and
the prisoner.

"Get up!" A booted foot crashed
against ribs, not quite hard enough to fracture them. Tychon groaned and
squeezed swollen lids shut against the light of their lamp. He had heard that
voice before, somewhere. On Targon? He combed his memory for the owner of the
voice, concentrating on that until the pain in his side ebbed a little. Yes,
Targon. The pilot who'd known Nova. He drew a shaky breath, mildly pleased with
the success of his exercise. The other guard was Centauri.

Rough hands pulled him up and he was
dragged from his cell across the dark compound, once a small market square. He
could make out walls and corners of stone buildings where lamps stabbed into
the dark with cold beams of light. Rhuwac guards passed from flood-lit areas into
night without hesitation, their sense of smell keener than their eyes.

Tychon craned his neck, knowing that the
town's fortification wall lay just behind these buildings. He was probably
looking at it right now. He turned to walk backwards for a few steps,
disheartened by the number of Rhuwacs patrolling the grounds.

"Get along, Delphi," the Centauri
snarled, gripping his elbow to turn him around. Tychon raised his arm to shrug
the hand away. A moment later he was on the ground, a new pain blossoming in
the back of his head.

"Son of a motherless Rhuwac," Fynn
Bridger guffawed. "I thought the Delphi was gonna make a run for it, Akela."
His boot connected sharply with Tychon's thigh. "That is for getting me
stuck shipping a bunch of stinking Rhuwacs to Tor Ag and then wasting most of
them. And don’t think I’ve forgotten about you putting your hands on Nova
Whiteside. You can thank your stars that Pe Furface wants you kept alive."

Tychon was picked up again and manhandled
into a large residential building where he soon stood before Tharron, his hands
bound together in front of him as if he had the strength to raise them against
the rebel leader.

Tharron was enthroned upon the raised floor
of what used to be an eating alcove. It made a fine dais. His Chayko-skin
covered chair was flanked by two Rhuwac guards and a brazier beside him was
brewing some evil smelling drink. Tharron himself was dressed in loose leather
trousers, his massive chest bare except for a diagonal leather belt studded
with the teeth of his enemies, according to rumors. The whole arrangement was
obviously meant to inspire fear and awe. Tychon thought it was ridiculous. He
was faintly nauseated by the chair coverings. The shy, mute Chaykos had
recently been declared sentient by the Union.

"Delphi" Tharron snarled. "I
am in the mood to continue our conversation now that you have had time to think
about your manners. Why are you on Shaddallam?"

Tychon considered the reply he had given to
that question earlier. It had been the one that had earned him one of several
beatings. He decided on a variation of it, as so often lately borrowing from
Nova's more colorful vocabulary."Why the hell do you think we're here?"

The butt of a long gun slammed into his
gut, dropping him to his knees. He wanted to vomit but, haven't been fed, did
not. He allowed himself to descend deeper into the khamal that kept his pain
and dread from distracting him.

Tharron laughed and took up the goblet from
the brazier. "Looking for your firstborn, are you? Well, you found him. I
finally have something that will free us all of the great oppression brought
down on us by those cur Centauri and their Human pets!" He glared blearily
around the room at his guards and officers, speaking to them. "We will be
free to tend our fields and children without paying tribute to these
interlopers. We shall throw off the yoke of their tyranny and break the chains
that keep us in slavery. We shall be free!" Grandly, he drank from his
cup.

Tychon looked at the men in the room. Their
expressions were carefully guarded but he saw disgusted fascination on some of
the faces, especially on Pe Khoja's and those of the two Centauri beside him.
"You people believe that lunacy?" he asked conversationally.
"He's read that somewhere, you know."

Tharron roared something that none here
understood and heaved his cup at Tychon. It glanced sharply along the Delphian's
cheek, opening a deep cut below his eye. Blood poured freely over his face.

"How do you like that, pretty
boy?" Tharron growled. "Ah, but scars can be erased. Perhaps we
should take off your hair. Huh?" He looked around for approval from his
men. "Huh? And the scalp with it!"

Tychon ground his teeth.

"How did you know where to find
me?" Tharron asked, furious over Comori's failure in coming up with a
truth serum that would work properly on a Delphian.

Tychon shook his head; it neither lessened
nor increased his headache.

"Who else knows?"

"No one," Tychon said. "This
is just one place among dozens we're checking out."

"You lie." Tharron half-turned
toward Pe Khoja. "We move in the morning."

No! Tychon thought. "Running away
again, Tharron?" he said, desperate. Surely Nova would find the means to contact
the other Vanguard teams that had come along to Shaddallam to help with the
search. It would not be long before they’d discover this place and the presence
of the rebels in the valley. "You're hidden quite well in this hole. I
never would have expected your quarters down here if your goons hadn't made
such a fuss."

"Does Carras know where you are? Is
Targon mobilizing? Talk!"

Tychon squinted at the giant. "Targon
who?"

A boot caught him in the small of his back,
sending him sprawled at Tharron's feet.

"Enough!" Tharron shouted.

Tychon turned his head and saw that Bridger
had been about to brain him with the stock of his gun. The Terran reluctantly
lowered his weapon and retreated.

"It does not matter," Tharron
declared. "I am tired of this. We move back to the city in the morning and
then get off this rock." He motioned for someone to lift Tychon to his
feet. "Some of my men are eager to dispose of you, Delphi. But there is something
you can do for me."

"Your wish is my command," Tychon
hissed, sounding not quite as sarcastic as he had intended.

 "Whiteside," Tharron said.
"She is not really dead, is she? Some of your Delphi wizardry back there,
wasn't it? She'll probably try to find you."

Tychon did not reply.

Tharron's lips twisted into something like
a smile. "I think I'll leave you here for her to find. You can give her a
message from me. Actually, Pe Khoja thought of it and I think it's going to be
fun for everyone. Wouldn't you like that? Comori!"

Tychon turned his head to see a figure
separate from the shadows in the back of the room. The small man was neatly dressed
and unarmed. He pushed his sleeve back to show Tychon the object on the palm of
his hand.

 Tychon's eyes widened. "No!"

"Do it fast before he drops dead like
the other one," Tharron advised.

Two of Tharron's guards seized Tychon and
led him from the room, struggling with a man who was fighting for his life and
sanity. Comori had to sedate him before he could begin his work.

* * *

The sun of Shaddallam had risen as quickly
as it had set. Its red orb glared over the horizon, reaching across the
flatlands in still weak beams of light broken only occasionally by the clumps
of stunted trees that still held pockets of early morning fog.

The two travelers had broken their fast and
their camp quickly, spurred by the cold as much as the desire to reach the edge
of this desert. Nova moved sluggishly, bothered by a terrible nightmare that
had tortured her for most of the night without ever presenting clear images.

"Tonight's rest will be more
comfortable than this one was," Greah assured her. "On the day after
that we'll reach Shad Laika."

They raced atop the sandrunner, aware that
the land around them was changing. Nova was startled to find a deep valley in
their path. The ground simply dropped, offering a view of moisture laden clouds
below them. She saw forests and meadows, birds in the air and the silver
ribbons of rivers. She looked back over her shoulder. The flatlands had not
been the main feature of Shaddallam after all. Instead of reaching the end of a
desert, they had come to the edge of a plateau.