to me, I couldn’t help you, and you would wind up in the exact same place and in
the hands of the exact same people, only you wouldn’t know how to run the life
maintenance and support system for the cabins. I also have within me, implanted
by a surgeon—where, I don’t know—a tiny transmitter. It is hooked both to the
ship and to a Master System relay. If I die, that beacon stops transmitting.
When it does, Master System will call the ship and determine whether my death
was natural or murder. If it was murder, Master System will take direct command
of the ship and release gas into the compartment that will not kill you but will
put you down into a sleep from which you cannot wake up without the antidote. If
you kill me, not only will you not escape and not die, but your families back
here, no matter how innocent, will replace you.
Not likely in the Song Ching family, Chu Li reflected, but then realized that
there were cousins and others who might well be forced to replace her. However,
it was empty to threaten Deng or himself that way. The system had already
destroyed their families and friends as well. Still, for the girls’ sake, he
could not fail.
All right. So far it was proceeding exactly as the plans in his mind told him it
would. Of course, Sabatini had not mentioned a couple of other safeguards, but
he; wouldn’t. That was all right. There were ways around this.
Now, with all that out of the way, Sabatini concluded, let me say that I am a
ship’s captain, not a member of the police or the military of anyone. I haul
cargo and people. If you are friendly, cooperative, and make no trouble, this
can be a pleasant voyage. I treat people the way they treat me. Treat me nasty,
and I’ll be nastier. Treat me nice, and I can be very nice as well. Any
questions? Come—speak up. We will be off soon, and it’ll be too late.
Chu Li didn’t want to draw much attention, but he had to know one thing. If you
please, Honorable Captain— what is this Melchior to which we are being sent?
Melchior is a rock about thirty kilometers across that floats around the sun
out in the asteroid belt. There’s nothing on top but some beacons and a single
dock, but the thing is a hollowed-out rock full of chambers, tunnels, rooms,
even something of a town. It’s a lot of things. It’s a place for scientific
research. It’s occasionally a meeting place for important administrators who
want to be away from all monitoring. Mostly it’s a prison run by scientists who
don’t have to obey the rules because they’re cooped up there, too. I’ll tell you
what more I know when we’re under way. That satisfy you for now?
Deng Ho wet his lips nervously. Then—we are to be the experiments this time?
Sabatini shrugged. I don’t know, boy. Nobody really knows, except maybe some of
the administrators. I never heard of anyone ever escaping, though. Once you’re
inside, with that maze of tunnels and air locks, you get so lost, you might
never even find your way out.
8. THE RAVEN AND THE WARLOCK
THE ILLINOIS VILLAGE WAS IN TURMAIL. Two of their best warriors dead, a dramatic
escape by the two whom the chief had called his playthings, Chief Roaring Bull
himself kidnapped, a slave woman missing, and a boat, supplies, and weapons
stolen—it all made the rest of them feel downright insecure. The chief’s eldest
son, along with the rest of the clan, met to decide just what action to take.
They’re long gone, some argued. Far downriver in foul weather. If they don’t
drown, they’ll be out of reach before we can get the word down to stop them.
But it’s bad for business, others argued. What if word gets around that this
was done to us? Who will fear us and pay us tribute then? It will give the
others ideas.
They won’t be bragging, if they survive at all, the first group argued. The
man’s on the run from Council. He won’t even mention this. As for Chief Roaring
Bull, they’re certain to kill him when he’s no longer needed, if they haven’t
already. You heard what the girls said about that pair. They smelled of death. I
say we bottle it up here. Anyone, at any time, who speaks of this to anyone,
even among ourselves, shall at the very least lose his or her tongue and suffer
torments. Let us tighten our own security and our tongues and go on as before.
And what of the chief? the others responded. How will we explain his death?
It is bound to get out.
Everybody knows he was a steady fire drinker. We’ll just say he got drunk and
mad at somebody on the river one day and went out there. That’ll explain the
body, no matter what the condition. He’s never going to tell anyone different.
They all looked at Black Bear Foot, the chief’s eldest son and heir apparent. A
very imposing man in his own right, he had sat impassively listening to the
debate without getting involved. Now the man they would make chief spoke.
Yes, but what if father manages to come back alive? he asked nervously. He had
not always been the eldest son, but his late half brother had gotten too
ambitious too fast. Some of the same men who now offered Black Bear Foot the
leadership had encouraged his brother, then lost their nerve and betrayed him
when faced with the wrath of Roaring Bull.
Now listen and hear what I say, he said gravely. The two who failed to watch
the strangers will take one canoe, and the two who were so afraid of getting wet
that they allowed the chief to be taken will go in another. One of you will
bring back the chief, or his body, or all four of you will wish that you were
dead, though you will not die. Understand?
They understood, but they didn’t like it.
Also, send runners south on both sides of the Mississippi to contact our
allies. Tell them only the story that Roaring Bull got drunk and was lost on the
river and that we seek him and fear his capture by traders who bear grudges
against him. Tell them that they will get a great reward if the chief is
returned alive and a lesser reward if dead, but if dead, they will get the same
great reward if they also return his killers, dead or alive. Got it? Then go!
Those who would travel left to prepare, but the rest of the council remained in
session to work out the details in the chief’s absence. They were still hard at
it when two strangers rode right into the village on horseback and stopped all
there dead in their tracks.
The man on the brown horse was a Crow from the northwest mountains. An
unexpected sight this far from his tribal territory, he was a striking man with
a mean and fearsome look about him. He was dressed in full fur and buckskin and
had a hard, tough, nasty face that seemed more a natural rock formation than a
human feature. His eyes were narrowed and mean-looking, and he chomped on a
half-smoked but unlit Caribe cigar. Observers could tell in an instant that he
would no more hesitate to kill a man than to swat a fly; to stop him, one would
need ten good men, all willing to die themselves.
With him, however, astride a huge black stallion, was a figure even more
imposing and out of place. She was very tall, taller than the Crow, who was no
little man, and her skin was as black as the blackest night. Her hair, straight
and cut very short, was blacker than her skin, and her features were as perfect
as finely chiseled black marble. Her clothing, tailored to her statuesque
proportions, consisted of a sleeveless tunic made of beaver and mink with pants
and even boots to match. Her arms looked smooth, but when they moved, tremendous
muscles and great power were evident. Her eyes were cold, her bearing aloof.
None needed to be told that these were very dangerous people. Here was a Crow
Agency man, one of those who worked for Council security, and with him a visitor
from a far place who unquestionably held the same sort of job in some distant
land.
They rode right up to the tribal council meeting and halted but did not
dismount. The Crow Agency man gave them a look that seemed to chill them all, as
if he felt in the mood to massacre an entire tribe. The lady, on the other hand,
gave the impression that she’d rather slowly torture them first.
Black Bear Foot decided he really didn’t need this kind of trouble, but he
sighed and got up. If his father didn’t come back, this would determine whether
he survived to take over. He, too, had a lot of younger half brothers who
wouldn’t mind the job in the least.
I am Black Bear Foot, acting chief of this tribe until the return of my
father, he said in his native tongue. He didn’t care if they understood it or
not: That was their problem. In fact, he kind of hoped that they didn’t share
any common languages. Maybe then they’d give up and go away. If you come in
peace and friendship, you are welcome to share our fire and our hospitality,
the acting chief added grudgingly.
Where’s your father, sonny boy? the Crow asked in a voice that was deep,
raspy, and all-around unpleasant. He spoke excellent Illinois. Black Bear Foot
thought the man sounded as a corpse might sound if it could speak.
You have no call to break the Covenant, the young, would-be chief responded,
deciding that only bravado meant anything to this pair. If I were to speak that
way to someone of my position in the land of the Crow, your people would have my
skin stretched across poles. You may have my life and surrender yours, but I
will have respect in my own village and among my own people from any visitor.
The speech seemed to impress and also disturb the Crow.
You know we act in the name of the Council, the Crow Agency man said
menacingly, but the mere fact that he said it showed some hesitancy. He
obviously was not used to having someone stand up to him on anything, except
perhaps her.
You mean you are in the employ of Council. The way you act and treat those who
would offer you hospitality is not the Council way or the way of the Covenant.
You may act in the name of the Council, but I doubt if the Council would approve
of the way you act.
The Crow smiled, although the expression looked grotesque and unnatural on him.