The Totems of Abydos (15 page)

“You do not think then,” said Brenner, peering off through the rain in the direction in which the young woman had taken her way, picking her way through the mud with her bare feet, “that she is a “mate.”” He shuddered a little as he said that word, with its disgusting aspects of salaciousness.

“I would not suppose so, not here,” said Rodriguez.

For some reason Brenner was pleased with this speculation on the part of Rodriguez. Upon considering this, Brenner speculated that his relief must be due to the fact that the young woman was spared at least an implication in a relationship so carnal and deplorable, so antithetical to personness.

“But what then?” asked Brenner. He was dimly aware of an odd sense of expectation, or hopefulness, even an unworthy, excited hopefulness, in himself as he asked this question.

“Who knows?” asked Rodriguez.

“What do you think?” asked Brenner.

“She was barefoot,” mused Rodriguez.

“Yes?” said Brenner.

“Did you get a look at her neck, or her left wrist?” asked Rodriguez.

“Not really,” said Brenner.

“I didn’t notice any chain or anklet on her left ankle,” said Rodriguez.

“‘Chain’? ‘Anklet’?” said Brenner.

“To be sure,” said Rodriguez, “such would have to be dried, and cleaned, very carefully, if it were worn in this weather, in the rain and mud. It could, of course, have been removed, before she was sent on her errand.”

“An errand?” asked Brenner.

“One supposes so,” said Rodriguez. “This is hardly the sort of weather in which one would be likely to make social calls.”

“What is she?” asked Brenner.

“I don’t know,” said Rodriguez.

“Is she a—slave?” asked Brenner.

“Quite unlikely, for a number of reasons,” said Rodriguez. “First, she was angry when you obstructed her passage, when you struck into one another, and even cried out in anger, or made some sort of angry noise. It is highly unlikely that a slave would have done that. A slave might rather have been terrified that she might have been found displeasing. A slave would have been down on her knees or belly in the mud, in an instant, contrite and fearful, begging your forgiveness, perhaps trying to placate you by licking the mud from your boots. She would not wish to be beaten.”

“Men have such power over slaves?” asked Brenner, in awe.

“Of course,” said Rodriguez. “They are slaves.”

“But you do not think she is a slave?” asked Brenner.

“No,” said Rodriguez. “Are you disappointed?”

“Of course not!” said Brenner.

“The second reason, or second main reason,” said Rodriguez, “that I doubt that she is a slave is because this is Company Station, and it is highly unlikely that they would have slaves here. The company, you see, like many of the companies, at least in public matters, must maintain its image, on the home world and similar worlds.”

“I see,” said Brenner.

“It would scarcely do for the company to be discovered to be keeping slaves here,” said Rodriguez. “Think of the political embarrassment, and the leverage this might provide competitive companies.”

“I understand,” said Brenner.

“The company, however, doubtless keeps slaves one place or another,” he said, “in one out-of-the-way place or another, perhaps on vacation worlds, or resort worlds, such places, for their executives, or something along those lines. Too, of course, the company does have holdings on several worlds, even strong worlds, where there are slaves, and who is to say on such worlds to whom those slaves, in one holding or another, belong. Too, it is rumored that the company, and other companies as well, here and there, do dabble in the slave trade, that they capture or buy such merchandise, that they transport it, train it and sell it, such things.”

Brenner was silent.

“The Serian girls, the little blue beauties, are mostly bred now, of course,” he said.

“Like cattle?” asked Brenner.

“If you like,” said Rodriguez. “But they are, of course, also educated and trained.”

Brenner was silent.

“Some companies are doing this, here and there,” said Rodriguez, “with women of our species.”

Brenner looked at him, aghast.

“Yes,” said Rodriguez.

“But what of the woman we just saw?” asked Brenner. “What is she?”

“I would guess,” said Rodriguez. “That she is either a convict, or a delinquent assignee, or, more likely, a contract slut.”

“What?” asked Brenner.

“A woman who is contracted,” said Rodriguez. “This can come about in a number of ways. For example, she may have been subjected to contract in virtue of incurred debts, or she may have contracted herself for a certain fee, for a certain time, or this may have been done to her by a reformatory board, or a correctional board, many things. Her contract can be bought and sold and she, with the contract, passes from one hand to another.”

“And what are her duties for the contract holder,” asked Brenner.

“Whatever he wishes,” he said. “He holds the contract.”

“When does the contract expire?” asked Brenner.

“Normally when it is paid off,” said Rodriguez, “but, as she is considered a free woman, and is usually charged for her board and such, things are usually arranged in such a way that she cannot pay it off.”

“Then she is in effect a slave?” said Brenner.

“Her contract might be purchased by someone, who pays it off for her,” said Rodriguez.

“Is that likely?” asked Brenner.

“Not at all,” said Rodriguez.

“What is the usual outcome?” asked Brenner.

“The usual outcome?” he asked.

“Yes,” said Brenner.

“Usually, on one world or another, sooner or later, they find themselves reduced to bondage.”

“They become full slaves?”

“Exactly,” said Rodriguez.

“I see,” said Brenner.

“The hostel is ahead,” said Rodriguez, who had by now caught his breath.

“I thought you were looking for a bar,” said Brenner.

“I don’t see one, do you?” said Rodriguez.

“No,” said Brenner, making certain that he did not look too carefully.

“Let’s check in, and change our clothes,” said Rodriguez. “I want a shower. I want to be warm and dry. Then we can go out again.”

You can go out again, thought Brenner. I will stay in the hostel. He did not find Company Station an inviting locus for ambulatory peregrinations.

“The bars are probably off the main street,” said Rodriguez. “Are you all right?”

“Yes,” said Brenner. To be sure, he still seemed short of breath. Too, his heart was pounding, and he was in a state of agitation, perhaps from his encounter with the young woman and his conversation with Rodriguez, or perhaps from the normal adjustments involved in adapting from the weightlessness, or comparative weightlessness, of the ship to the gravity of a world. In such a transition one recovers a sense of the cubic content, the weight, the reality, of one’s body, which, of course, after a period of adjustment, is forgotten.

Brenner then, bag in hand, trying to keep his footing in the mud, squinting his eyes against the precipitation, now again a drizzle, followed Rodriguez toward the double doors of the hostel, some two hundred yards, or so, down the street. He looked up once at the overhead tracks, which were now unburdened by cargos. The ship, he assumed, would have left by now. They had come to Company Station, on Abydos. There would not be another ship for months. Through the glassed paneling of the hostel’s doors shone a welcome illumination. Too, as they approached the building, the sign was lit. Doubtless this was a coincidence, and constituted no more than a belated concession to the misery and darkness of the day, but it cheered Brenner.

Chapter 4

“Do not be disturbed,” said Rodriguez. “It is merely that you have not seen women of your species in this way before.”

Brenner did not dare to look down at her, to where she knelt beside him, as he stood at the bar. Her hands were on his left leg. Her head was down, her cheek pressed against his thigh.

“Get away,” he hissed to her.

The bartender, a zard from Damascus, a life form thought by many to be related to that of the captain of the freighter, though smaller and more upright in carriage, looked up from where, a few feet away, behind the bar, he was polishing glasses. The relationship of the zard to the species of the captain, incidentally, despite popular conjectures on the subject, is regarded as improbable by most zoologists, given the diversity of worlds and the timing of certain technological developments on these worlds, in particular, their attainments of interstellar flight capabilities. These zoologists tend to attribute the resemblance to the parameters of convergent evolution which, to be sure, has apparently produced numerous resembling species throughout the galaxy. The subject, however, remains open, even in learned circles, because of the unusual similarities of microscopic genetic structures between the two species. Too, it is obvious that a third species, which had, in the remote past, and perhaps even one now extinct and lapsed from notice in galactic records, which did possess interstellar capabilities, might have been involved, for example, in settling certain specimens of a primitive species on a different world, on which world, over periods of time, these specimens, wending their own ways, would develop into a new variety of the old species, or, if one likes, into a new species. Certain crossings between zards and others, for example, of the captain’s species, had proven fertile. The problems, of course, had to do with probabilities in such matters. In spite of the fact that life forms on diverse worlds often bore remarkable similarities to one another, presumably because of resembling adaptations to frequently similar ecological niches, the chances of crossfertility between diverse species tended to be calculated in the millions to one. It is possible, of course, that that million, or millions, to one chance might obtain. Too, of course, a sufficiently advanced life form, might be able, through chemical and physical alterations in genetic materials, deletions, additions, and such, to produce hybrid forms. Much progress had been made, for example, in developing new agricultural products along these lines. Needless to say, animal husbandry had also profited. In general, in speaking of adaptations, and adaptational advantages, intelligence, or rationality, tended to be extremely common in the galaxy. It is difficult not to acknowledge the obvious value of this adaptational device. It is interesting to note, incidentally, that normally only one such form, one such rational form, tended to be found on undisturbed worlds, that form which, it seems, in one way or another, overcame its rivals. Rationality, you see, is not always conjoined with kindliness and tolerance; it may be as often conjoined with fanaticism and ruthlessness; rational species which did not, at least in some point in their development, practice the principles of priority and tyranny, tended on the whole to disappear or, at least, to have their numbers controlled by the dominant species. Only in current times, with a plurality of worlds, and available room for expansion, at this point in history, and the balances of power between certain species, and the advantages to be obtained from commercial and technological exchanges, it seems, did clearly diverse rational species set about the business of tolerating one another’s existence. The zards, incidentally, were the dominant life form on Damascus, though other life forms, in diverse menial and servile capacities, were permitted amongst them. Their reputation in this portion of the galaxy was to the effect that they were shrewd businessmen, or creatures, that one must be wary of bargaining with them, and that their word was not to be overly trusted. They tended, on the whole, to be an aggressive, commercially active species. Whereas one could commonly count on them being civil and polite in the pursuit of business, and sometimes even ingratiating and obsequious with prospective clients or customers, they had a general reputation, it must be admitted, outside of interspecific transactions to their advantage, of being severe to inferior life forms.

“Easy,” said Rodriguez to Brenner.

Brenner turned a bit away from the girl, to his right. He did not wish her to see the effect on his body of her proximity.

“If you do not want her there,” said Rodriguez, “cuff her away. She will crawl back, but probably keeping out of your reach.”

“This is a human female,” whispered Brenner to Rodriguez.

“Do not demean her,” said Rodriguez.

“How could she be more demeaned than she is?” asked Brenner.

“Drink your drink,” said Rodriguez.

Brenner, unsteadily, almost tipping the glass, reached for the drink.

He glanced at the bartender, who then looked away, continuing to dry the glasses.

The young woman did not release his leg, and she kept her cheek pressed against his thigh. She seemed frightened.

Brenner also glanced to his right, and back, well beyond Rodriguez at the bar, to a counterlike desk near the rear of the room, behind which sat the proprietor of the establishment, like the bartender, a zard. This desk, near the rear of the room, not far from a beaded curtain to its right, as Brenner looked at it, was set well back from the main floor with the small tables, and, at one side, booths. Near some of these booths, and tables, rings were set in the floor. Rodriguez and Brenner, perhaps because of the hour and weather, were at this time the only customers in the establishment. The proprietor looked at Brenner, and then returned his attention to the papers before him. On the top of the desk, at hand, so to speak, lay a stout, two-foot-long leather quirt. The young woman who knelt beside him was the second woman who had been summoned forth, through the curtain, the first a blonde, to hasten to the bar, by two blows of that quirt on the top of the desk, loud, sharp, and resounding blows, almost like the reports of primitive firearms.