HOLDING her breath, Shanna sent her cats out and around the group of Garsal clustered at the entrance to the ship. She couldn’t believe their luck in finding the ship open to them. She just hoped that the door would remain that way long enough for them to slip past. Concentrating hard, she let her vision dissolve into three layers. One for her own eyes, and one each for her cats. Storm slipped past the guard and into the ship. Through his eyes Shanna could see that the secondary door was open. Shanna took a quick look around with her own eyes, kept part of her mind on Storm, and with a peep from her silent whistle set Twister on guard near the entrance.
She tapped the hand on her shoulder, waited a few seconds, and then moved forwards as silently as she was able. Her heart pounded as she threaded her way through the Garsal formation in front of the door. Their neatly spaced ranks allowed her to weave her way around them. Her mind’s eye imagined the line following her. If she angled herself too sharply, someone would brush against one of the Garsal and the consequences could be catastrophic. She tried to keep her breathing soft and silent, but she kept finding herself holding it, and was then forced to allow it to ooze quietly between her teeth.
For some reason, the group of Garsal stayed where they were. Shanna decided not to wonder why, but kept moving until she was inside, in the dimness of the Garsal ship. As before, she moved to one side of the doorway as she entered and led the others to the far end of the entry chamber. Storm moved further into the ship, and Shanna peered through his eyes as he glided down the corridor. Garsal hurried everywhere. It looked like an unthreadable maze. Another peep and she called him back.
She kept her group motionless in the vestibule for what seemed like hours. Finally, the group outside the entrance moved inside and as both doors closed behind them Shanna felt for the hands in the line of cadets and Allad behind her, and tapped on Taya’s hand. There was a brief squeeze from the other girl, and then, several moments later, a coded ‘all safe’ tap. Shanna let the fade go.
“There’s too many of them moving around inside at the moment. I’m not sure we’ll be able to sneak our way through.” She kept her voice quiet, barely whispering.
“I was afraid of that,” Ragar replied. “Three options. Firstly, we split up and reconnoitre in pairs. Secondly, we wait here until the activity level reduces. Thirdly, we do both – split up now, reconnoitre, and rendezvous here this evening. Then we pool our information and decide what to do based on that. Comments?” There was a brief silence.
“Option three,” Allad said. “It’s the best option. How will we re-enter the room though?”
“Taya can open the doors. Shanna can too?” He looked a query at her, and she nodded.
“Just let me link with Taya when she opens this one and I’ll make sure.”
“We divide into pairs and one group of three. Taya will pair with Verren to make sure she gets back here. I want you two to stay on this level. Once you’ve completed a search of this level I want you to station yourself here, outside the door, taking note of how often the Garsal go in and out. We’ll need a good exit strategy this time, so you’ll be planning it. Shanna, you’re with me – we’ve got the bottom of the ship. Amma, Zandany, Allad, you’re to work your way down from the top.. Three groups, only one without a door opener. Allad, you’ll send Satin ahead to alert Taya and Verren when you’re returning.” There were nods.
“We’ll need to get moving, Ragar,” said Taya. “I don’t think it’s wise to leave the monitoring device nonfunctional for too long.” Ragar nodded and went on.
“You have six hours. I want routes memorised, no hurrying, no rushing. Take your time. We need information before we attempt anything else. OK, everyone ready?”
Everyone nodded.
“Then fade.”
Even as the command was issued and the last one faded, the inner door opened and a troop of Garsal marched through accompanied by several human slaves. Instinctively, Shanna flattened herself onto the inner wall. She felt Ragar’s hand on her shoulder, and heard a flurry of Garsal communication. Two of them detached from the group, and hurried over to one side of the room, and prodded a panel. As they did, she ‘felt’ Taya rummage around inside the gadget’s machinery and then the two stepped backwards. Despite their alien forms, she could tell that they were puzzled.
She was so intent on watching them that Ragar had to tap her on the shoulder twice before she reacted. Fumbling her whistle into her mouth she darted through the door. Both cats moved with her. Storm took the front again, while she ‘felt’ Sparks take the rear. Twister roamed on their right flank. Nervously, she made her way around the hurrying Garsal figures, heading directly for the mobile room she remembered from the last visit. It was hard to dodge the moving groups. Even though she was accustomed to working her way through dangerous vegetation and dodging predators, this was an even more alien environment. Finally, in response to Ragar’s hand pressure, she slowed their progress, and began to take more than cursory notice of what they were passing.
Memory returned. There was the ramp which had finally led them back to this portion of the ship. There the scorch marks burned into the wall from Ragar’s fireballs, and the unmistakable scars left in the smooth walls from the Garsal weapons. Although there were no bodies scattered around the doorway, memories of the desperate dash they’d made down the corridor were still vivid. Obedient to Ragar’s commands, she committed the corridor to memory, while simultaneously guiding the two of them around the obstacles. Grateful that this time she wasn’t having to fade multiple others, she concentrated on the task at hand, although each time a new group approached, she couldn’t help scanning it in case her brother was present.
Finally they reached the mobile room. The end of the corridor was a busy place, so they had to stand back out of the way, watching, as groups constantly hurried in and out of the ever opening doors. Finally, after an age of watching, she felt Ragar pull her backwards and she followed him slowly to the ramp down into the ship. She’d come to the same conclusion. They would have to retrace their steps to the bottom of the ship on foot. At this time of day, three huge cats and two humans would be easily detected by feel inside the crowded little room.
The descending ramps were almost empty. It was as if they were redundant. Shanna relaxed slightly as they moved away from the jostling alien crowd, and as they moved ever downward carefully counting the levels, Shanna thought about the logic of it. If you had a room that automatically took you up as many levels as you wished in a straight line, it would be an efficient use of time to use it. Then why install ramps? She supposed that it was possible for a malfunction to occur, and if it did they’d need an alternate route. A time saving device then, but not necessarily a space saving one. Two systems instead of one.
Level after level they descended, passed only occasionally by the Garsal inhabitants. Several times human slaves trotted past, unaccompanied, but all wearing the bright orange ankle bands she’d seen on Anjo and Semba. Each time, she felt reflexively in her pocket for the carefully packaged vial of flotter mist. Each time, she and Ragar allowed them to pass by, and each time, she felt her cats’ anger mount higher and higher. The human slaves looked undernourished and cowed, and all carried bruises. Their clothing was mixed, some in rags, while others were clean and in some kind of livery.
Several hours of slow, careful descent passed. Then, just when Shanna thought that they would have to turn around and go back up, she heard the soft murmur of voices coming through the wall nearest to her. She tightened her hand on Ragar’s arm and felt his squeeze in return. Alone in the ramp-well, he stopped and whispered into her ear. “Send the boys out. Tell me what you see.” She flattened herself carefully against the wall at the end of the bend, and sent her cats forwards. Twister went at a run, Storm more slowly, and almost reluctantly she submerged herself in their vision. There was no nausea.
Both pairs of eyes looked down a row of tiered cells. Bars fronted most of them, and a miserable collection of mainly human forms sat listlessly within them. Many were empty. Shanna remembered the slaves they’d seen moving up and down the ramps. They were probably in the midst of their work day. Storm was full of slowly bubbling anger, and Twister was like a simmering cauldron. One bit of extra heat and he’d boil over. Shanna found herself deliberately trying to cool him down, fearful that if he bubbled over he’d do something unwise.
“All clear, Ragar. Row after row of slave quarters. Not a lot occupied right now.” Her whispered voice seemed loud in her ears.
“We’ll go in then, and make a head count of the cells, check the access and see what the locking mechanisms are like. Ready?” She nodded and faded and led the way in, carefully keeping watch through her cats’ eyes until she rounded the corner. She could ‘feel’ the anger emanating from Sparks as well. Using her own eyes, it was still plain that the slave hold was a place of pain and suffering. Huddled forms sat in some cells. In others, empty of their occupants, old marks on the walls were a testament to fear and dread. Sounds of the unhinged floated down through the stacked cages, and in several cells at one end, blood stained restraints hung limply, their emptiness not a promise of hope, but a threat of punishment.
The guilt she’d felt at having to leave people here last time, had woken Shanna at night on more than one occasion. Now every step she took through the prison felt like a declaration of war renewed against the Garsal. Her eyes hunted unceasingly for her brother, hopeful, yet fearful, of finding him there amongst the pain and misery.
Her cats sparked to maximum alertness, their colours shivering to brightness in her mind, and she halted mid step, pulling Ragar with her behind one of the central pillars. At the other end of the hold, the doors of the mobile room slid open.
A troop of Garsal soldiers marched out, followed by a group of Garsal clothed in multihued filmy cloth. The foremost one was elaborately dressed, and escorted by a tall Garsal wearing an embellished weapon harness. Unlike that of the soldiers, this Garsal’s harness bore insignia made from precious metal studded with gems. His air was of absolute command, and complete control, while at the same time, he was oddly deferential to the brightly clothed Garsal. His demeanour puzzled Shanna; command and deference made an odd mix. She shelved the oddity, and concentrated on making sure she was out of the way and well faded. She was beginning to tire slightly, but she was reluctant to use any of her carefully hoarded patches until she absolutely needed to. She could feel Ragar beside her, mind alert and watchful, and she could feel the heat poised within him, should he need it.
Slowly, the group approached. They moved in the manner of an inspection, and Shanna was puzzled. A suspicion began to form in her mind about the rainbow hued group. There were at least a dozen of them. Her first impression was that two were of higher status than the others. The other ten deferred to them, listening attentively, and at least two appeared to be making notations on some kind of tablet. Behind them, Shanna could see glimpses of the same livery she’d noticed on the human slaves they’d passed on the ramp. She sent Storm and Twister out to either side of the group with her silent whistle, and then looked through their eyes. Each time, it was easier.
***
The Matriarch paced slowly through the slave quarters. At this time of day, many of the slave pens were empty. She dawdled as long as possible, hoping to delay the end of the inspection until the slaves were back in their pens. Laretai’s spy taps had indicated that Lacey’s cell was at the far end. She hoped to coincide the end of her inspection with the return of the slaves to their quarters. “How many slaves has this planet consumed, Overlord?” She stopped moving, forcing the Overlord to stand still to answer.
“We have lost some, Matriarch. As you will be aware from my reports, although this planet has substantial resources, it has many dangerous animals and plants. Our losses have slowed as we’ve extended our control within the sentinel perimeter.” She waited him out, slightly amused at his bumbling attempt to avoid answering the question directly. Finally he spoke again. “Although initial losses have seemed heavy, it is likely that the situation will be remedied very shortly.” She continued to stand still. Beside her, she felt Laretai’s approval, and at her back, she could feel the attention young Estei gave to the conversation.
Good, the Matriarch thought. She will need every skill she can learn to ensure the success of the plan. She knew it was a death thought, but she was resigned to the idea of her own demise should the plan require it. She continued to wait. Finally the words she’d waited for came.
“We have lost almost fifty per cent of our original slave quota, Matriarch.” The words came one by one, as if they were being spat out through a grinder, in pieces. It was petty, and beneath her, but she allowed herself to feel a small satisfaction as he admitted the disquieting numbers. She played the moments out one by one, before turning her head, beckoning to Estei and then stepping slowly forwards with her chosen successor by her side. Laretai dropped back as she’d been instructed and began to watch the Overlord and his hatching sib.
Behind them, the lift doors opened with a quiet hiss. The sounds of many feet echoed through the slave hold, and the Matriarch stepped out with more confidence. The escort closed around them more tightly, but the Matriarch neither slowed nor speeded up. Estei paced next to her, completely composed, her posture regal and assured.
A group of slaves hurried past, their heads bowed, faces hidden, eyes carefully on the floor. Most were filthy from labouring in the hive. The Matriarch restrained herself from craning her neck to search each face. Again, Laretai’s spy taps had proved their worth. The Matriarch ran the human’s features through her mind yet again. It was unnecessary with Laretai accompanying them, yet she wished to be certain she could recognise the human woman if necessary.
“How much of the slave hold do you wish to inspect, Matriarch? We have further development inside the hive for your approval.” The Overlord’s obsequious tones grated on the Matriarch’s ears.
“I have neglected this inspection for too long, Overlord. Although I yearn to see the hive progress, I would be remiss in my duties should I avoid a thorough examination of the slave quarters at this time. I would be pleased to inspect the hive tomorrow, however. Laretai will confirm this with Zoash on our return.” She walked onwards, and was pleased to hear the lift doors open and close once more. Slaves began streaming past, orange tracker bracelets flashing beneath their rags and livery. Once again, the Matriarch blessed the foresight that had the slaves serving the female Garsal housed inside their enclave. The sounds of clanging cell doors began to echo down the hold, as more and more slaves were incarcerated within their tiny boxes. The sounds of feet treading the gridded walkways above rang sharply above the sounds of human sadness. There were few slaves from the other races on the ship, nearly all were human.
She paced steadily onward, slowing as she approached the general area of Lacey’s cell. Once again she paused as the lift doors hissed open again. “How many of the non-humans have survived, Overlord?” He didn’t prevaricate this time.
“Very few, Matriarch. Their physiology is less capable of adapting to this planet. We have restricted the few survivors to the ship and hive environs.” She stepped off again as another group went past, and then stopped again.
“I will inspect this row more closely.”
“Are you…yes of course, Matriarch.”
She took several steps towards the end of the hold, and then turned to her left to study the humans in the closest cells. A sturdy woman, rather better fed than most, kept her eyes firmly on the floor. “Your name?”
“Edon.” The name was familiar. Ah, the Overlord’s informer. She’d reported on Kaidan every night on his return to his cell. The Matriarch stepped closer to the bars, curious to see what kind of human being sold her own race for extra food. She was no different to the others that the Matriarch could see. Her small human eyes remained on the floor, but her body showed the effects of extra food and drink. Her clothes were not ragged, like most of the others on this level.
“Look at me.” The woman raised her eyes. They were a muddy brown, and looked as if they’d seen horrors. They had, of course. In the depths of the night, the Matriarch had sometimes wondered how she might have fared had she been the one enslaved. It had been a revealing train of thought, and afterwards she always rose the next morning more firmly committed to her part in furthering the plan. She took several steps to her left. That cell was empty. Had she missed Lacey? No. She almost flicked her manipulator arms irritably, but stilled the impulse as it formed. That was the cell in which Kaidan had been kept. Lacey’s was the next one.
For a moment, the Matriarch feared she hadn’t taken enough time, and that this cell was empty too. But then the pile of rags in one corner moved, and an old woman got slowly to her feet, unfolding one limb at a time. The Matriarch studied the woman whose name had provoked this inspection. Grey hair grew in spirals from her scalp, and dark blue eyes met the Matriarch’s faceted ones so briefly that she almost felt that she had imagined the contact. She looked at the woman again. Her eyes were properly on the floor, as if they’d never been anywhere else.
“Your name?”
“Lacey.” And there it was. She was the one. How one of the leaders of the human underground had ended up here, she couldn’t imagine. The Matriarch looked at her for some moments, searching for the proper phrase.
“Your planet of origin? I would understand your indebtedness.” There, she’d included the correct code word.
“I was from Diandro. One of the inner worlds.” The coded response was included in the woman’s reply.
“You have a large debt, then.” The woman placed her eyes back on the floor, and the Matriarch moved on. She spent similar amounts of time with another four slaves, carefully speaking to each for varying amounts of time. They were a spineless lot, she thought as she finished the inspection. But would she have been any different had their places been reversed? She was in a pensive mood when she returned to her quarters. Later, as if by afterthought, she had Laretai send a message to the Overlord, requesting two more slaves – Edon and Lacey. She hoped that her request would be written off as a vagary of her position.
***
Shanna and Ragar left the slave hold as fast as they could once the official party had left. The strain of remaining undetected had been extreme, as the slave hold had filled with returning humans and Garsal, all trying to skirt the inspection party. Faded, they’d still had to avoid any physical contact with either human or Garsal. Their cats had had no difficulty, with their fast reflexes and silent feet, but the humans had needed to work harder. Shanna had had to give up the attempt to look through Storm and Twister’s eyes in order to concentrate on her own safety. She’d had only a glimpse of the human slaves, but she was confident that Kaidan had not been among their number – if he had been, Storm or Twister would have found him. She wondered where he was, but in the back of her mind, there was a sad recognition that perhaps he wasn’t even alive.
For some time, they’d had to stay silently in one place, tucked behind the pillar that was both their salvation and their prison. On either side, prisoner after prisoner had filed past, accompanied by their Garsal guards. The stream had been so constant that Shanna and Ragar had had no opportunity to leave.
When they finally began to ascend, they moved as fast as possible, knowing it was likely that they would be the last to return to the meeting point. Shanna was frustrated and fearful all at once. They were confident that they could return to the slave hold at will, yet the intelligence they’d hoped to gain was scratchy at best. It was clear that they would have to return to locate the named slaves – but how could they leave the others behind in that hellish hold? And the numbers of slaves inside the ship exceeded even her most nightmarish estimates.
Sending Twister ahead, Shanna rounded another bend in the ramp, and was pushed backwards by Storm. The sound of marching footsteps came clearly down from above. It sounded like a whole troop of Garsal was on the way. She looked around. There was nowhere to go.