BROTHERS OF EARTH. C. J. Cherryh

There was a long silence. “Please,” said Kta in a broken voice, “please spare me your help from now on.”

“Listen to me. There are weapons in the ship if I can convince them to let me in there. If I can fire its engines I can burn this nest out.”

“I will forgive you,” said Kta, “when you do that.”

“Are you,” Kurt asked after a moment, “much hurt?”

“I am alive,” Kta answered. “Does that not satisfy you? Shall I tell you what they did to the boy, honored friend?”

“I could not stop it. Kta, look at me. Listen. Is there any hope at all from Tavi? If we could get free, could we find out way there?”

There was no answer.

“Kta, where is your ship anchored?”

“Why? So you can buy our lives with that too?”

“Do you think I mean to tell-”

“They are your kind, human. It would be possible to survive… if you could buy your life. I will not give you Tavi.”

Against such bitterness there was no answer. Kurt swallowed at the resentment and the hurt that rose in his throat; he held his peace after that. He wanted no more truth from Kta.

The silence wore on, two-sided. At last it was Kta who turned his head. “What are you fighting for?” he asked.

“I thought you had drawn your conclusion.”

“I am asking. What are you trying to do?”

“To save your life. And mine.”

“What use is that to either of us under these terms?”

Kurt twisted toward him. “What use is it to give in to them? Is it sense to let them kill you and do nothing to help yourself?”

“Stop protecting me. I am better dead.”

“Like they died? Like that?”

“Show me,” said Kta, his voice shaking, “show me what you can do against these creatures. Put a weapon in my hands or even get my hands free and I will die well enough. But what dignity is there in living like this? Give me a reason. Tell me something I could have told the men they killed, why I have to live, when I should have died before them.”

“Kta, tell me, is there any possible chance of reaching Tavi?”

“The coast is leagues away. They would overtake us. This ship of yours… is it true what you said, that you could burn them out?”

“Everyone would die, you too, Kta.”

“You know how much that means to me. Light of heaven, what manner of world is yours? Why did you have to interfere?”

“I did the best I knew to do.”

“You were wrong,” said Kta. ‘

Kurt turned away and let the nemet alone, as he so evidently wanted to be. Kta had reason enough to hate humanity. Almost all he had ever loved was dead at the hands of humans, his home lost, his hearth dead, now even the few friends he had left slaughtered before his eyes. His parents, Hef, Mim, himself. Elas was dying. To this had human friendship brought the lord of Elas, and most of it was his own friend’s doing.

In time, Kta seemed to sleep, his head sunk on his breast, his breathing heavy.

A shadow crept across the slatting outside, a ripple of darkness that bent at the door, crept inside the shelter. Kurt woke, moved, began a cry of warning. The shadow plummeted, holding him, clamping a rough, calloused hand over his mouth.

The movement wakened Kta, who jerked, and a knife flashed in the dim light as the intruder drove for Kta’s throat.

Kurt twisted, kicked furiously and threw the would-be assassin tumbling. He righted himself, and a feral human face stared at both of them, panting, the knife still clenched for use.

The human advanced the knife, demonstrating it to them, ready. “Quiet,” he hissed. “Stay quiet.”

Kurt shivered, reaction to the near-slaughter of Kta. The nemet was unharmed, breathing hard, his eyes also fixed on the wild-haired human.

“What do you want?” Kurt whispered.

The human crept close to him, tested the cords on his wrists. “I’m Garet,” said the man. “Listen. I will help you.”

“Help me?” Kurt echoed, still shuddering, for he thought the man might be mad. The leaf-smell was about him. Feverish hands sought his shoulders. The man leaned close to whisper yet more softly.