Eternity Row, page 25
Look to the right. Do you see the beings in the helmets and brown fitted garments?
I spotted them right away. Yeah. Who are they?
Akkabarrans. Now disgust blended with his unease.
Something about their appearance nagged at me, but I couldn’t identify precisely what is was. Never heard of them.
You might have seen a few of them on Catopsa, during the slave auctions.
Now I remembered. They’re slavers?
Living beings are only a side enterprise. Their main commerce is weaponry of any kind.
Noise and activity outside the transport seemed to elevate, the farther we got in to the city. By the time we reached what had to be the center, it appeared as if the entire population was having a wild party. Everywhere I looked, natives behaved with perpetual, almost manic hyperactivity. Singing. Dancing. Throwing colored strips of glowing paper up in the air.
“Not exactly shy, are they?” I said to Xonea, who like me was mesmerized by a group of Oenrallians tearing off their garments and jumping into a huge basin spraying water hundreds of feet into the air. They splashed each other like a group of mischievous kids.
“A pleasant contrast to Taercal,” my ClanBrother said.
Mtulla worked her vehicle through the crowded street and parked beside a towering structure. “Excuse me for a moment, friends.” A light appeared on her console and she took out a strange-looking headset and fitted it over the two horns on the top of her head before moving a connected transmitter unit in front of her mouth.
“Rajanukal.” She listened, then sighed. “Expected as much. All right, see what you can do to locate it.” She took off the headset. “Sorry about that. We’ve gotten as far as we’re going, friends. I’ve got some business to attend to on Traders Row, just ahead. Everybody out.”
Traders Row took up both sides of the wide street beyond the next intersection, and spilled out onto it from every direction. As soon as we stepped down from Mtulla’s vehicle, we were surrounded by a horde of excited Oenrallians.
“Terran, beautiful footgear from your homeworld!” one young Oenrallian male with soulful yellow eyes called to me. He held up a pair of skimpy, black-strapped sandals. “They’ll make your feet look smaller and yourself taller!”
Qonja stepped between us. “She is not interested, peddler.”
“Thanks,” I said over the resident’s shoulder, before poking him in the back. He turned around. “Do you mind? I can speak for myself.”
Another, older male grabbed Xonea, who shook him off like a troublesome flea. Jorenians dislike being mauled as much as Terrans. The native only grinned and gestured at him like an old friend. “Come and drink at my tavern with your friends, pilot.”
Even Squilyp wasn’t safe. A female flung a handful of squirming crimson bugs up under his gildrells. “Look, sir! Fresh cephalopods from Omorr!”
For people who liked to subcontract, the natives were awfully eager to sell things to us. I noticed no one approached Dhreen or Mtulla—apparently the peddlers preferred aliens—then saw a gorgeous female latch on to Reever.
She jumped on him, winding her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. “Pleasure from my body, Terran. Any act you prefer.” She undulated against him.
“Hey.” On closer inspection, I saw she was hardly more than a kid. “Off my husband.”
Reever untangled himself and set her on her feet. “Thank you for the offer, but I am exclusive to my wife.”
“I will pleasure you both.” She beckoned to me. “Let me service you together.”
Mtulla stepped into the middle, then bellowed, “Rajanukal Handler Row! Leave off my friends and clear out!”
The crowd groaned, but gradually backed away from us. I watched, horrified as the young prostitute began bargaining with a pair of leering, furry humanoids twice her size.
Furious, I went after her, only to come up short and find my wrist in Reever’s hand. “For God’s sake, Duncan, she’s just a kid!”
“She’s seventy, if she’s a day.”
I sighed with frustration as I recalled how slowly Dhreen’s people appeared to age. “Terrific. Next thing you know, we’ll be accosted by infants.”
He released me. “There don’t appear to be any.”
Which confirmed Dhreen’s claim—since we’d landed on this world, I hadn’t seen a single child.
While Mtulla completed her business, I got out my scanner and ran a routine check on the sojourn team. Everyone seemed to be maintaining, except Dhreen, whose blood pressure remained at slightly elevated levels. Pathogenic sweep indicated negative, which meant we hadn’t contracted anything.
Our guide returned, but thought it would be best if we went the rest of the way to Dhreen’s home on foot.
“I take my ride down these streets”—she swept a hand toward the mass of pedestrians—“someone will end up under the hover ports.”
As soon as we began walking, I saw what the Oenrallian woman had been driving by too fast for me to spot before.
“I knew it. Mtulla.” I pointed to a group of the dark-robed beings. “What are those creeps doing here?”
“Creeps?” She followed my gaze. “Those are Bartermen; they administer Traders Row. Most of the other rows now, too.”
“I thought you said the Rajanukal ran the rows.”
“We run them, but we work for the Bartermen. They like to trade.” She didn’t seem to think it was a big deal. “So do we.”
“Fresh, new stock here,” an Akkabarran said through a wristcom as we passed. “Collar trained, eager to serve you.”
“They’re people, not stock,” I told him.
“Strong and obedient slaves, they are.” He patted a coil of stim-cord on his hip. “I trained them personally.”
“I thought Oenrall didn’t traffic in slaves,” I said through clenched teeth.
“I guess they do now,” Dhreen said.
Reever grabbed me and forced me to keep walking. Not here and not now. We have to find out why this is happening. It’s not only the slavery. These people are in trouble.
“What’s your problem, Healer?” Mtulla wanted to know. “There aren’t any Terrans in that bunch. Why be concerned?”
I grabbed the Rajanukal by the front of her tunic. Qonja tried to step in, but I glowered. “I spent a year as a slave, Mtulla. I don’t like seeing people being sold like cattle.”
She held up her big hands. “Sorry, I didn’t know.”
I let her go. “God, Taercal is starting to look good.”
I saw more Bartermen skulking around, making their secret deals. Akkabarran and Garnotan slave traders worked out in the open, offering beings for rent or purchase. By the time we’d reached Dhreen’s block, Reever had his arm clamped around me.
“All I wanted was a couple of minutes with that Garnotan piece of slime,” I muttered under my breath.
Squilyp was so angry he was purple. “We have to stop this.”
Jorenians only show claw when they were furious, and Xonea displayed all twelve of his. “Agreed.”
“You can’t stop the slave trade,” Mtulla said.
I laughed, once. “You don’t know who you’re talking to.”
“There is no law against it.” She gestured to one of the slave pens.
Reever turned his cold gaze on her. “Do you have any law on this world?”
“Only one. You can’t murder anyone.” She scanned our faces. “If you kill, you’ll be put to death immediately. No trial. No defense. A life for a life.”
Mtulla’s revelation kept us all silent for the remainder of the walk to Dhreen’s home.
“This is it.” She led us into a shabby, empty-looking building at the end of Traders Row.
Inside, dim lighting veiled everything in shadows, but I could smell stagnant water. Gnatlike insects swarmed around us briefly, driven off as soon as Mtulla switched on a hand-held emitter. A thick layer of dust and dead insects coated every surface. I’d half expected lots of clutter, but the furnishings were minimal.
“I don’t like this,” Dhreen said, his face gleaming with sweat. “Can we go back to the ship?”
“About your launch.” Mtulla cleared her throat. “It’s been appropriated.”
Xonea turned on her. “What say you?”
She tapped her horns. “Got a signal from my Transit people. I sent a crew to safeguard it, but apparently they didn’t get there in time.”
“I wish to speak to someone in authority. At once,” my ClanBrother said.
“We’ll track down what happened to it,” Mtulla told him. “Could have been a couple of my own handlers who took it.”
“I can’t stay here,” Dhreen repeated, and headed for the entrance. “Something bad happened here.”
“Hey.” I caught his wrist. His skin felt clammy, but his pulse was normal. “If this place is helping you remember, maybe we should stick around for a few minutes.”
He seized my hand and held on to it with a bruising grip. “What about the launch? What if we can’t get off here, like Taerca?”
His paranoia was starting to worry me. “Mtulla will find it, or the Captain will send for a replacement.” I tugged him toward another room. “Come on, let’s see what’s in here.”
“I’ll take a look at the database.” Reever went over to a console and dusted it off.
I followed Dhreen over to where he stood, looking out a filmy window. “Hey.”
He gripped the sill so hard the flat ends of his fingers whitened. “I don’t like it here, Doc.”
I put an arm around his waist. “Give it a chance. What do you think of, when you look out there?”
His eyes took on a faraway gleam. “That they’re worse than when I left.”
Silently, I took out my scanner and ran a brain sweep. “Who’s worse?”
“They said it was a just a temporary reaction, you know.” He murmured the words in such a soft, anguished voice that my eyes stung. “Only it was all part of the wanting.”
“Tell me about it.”
“They can’t sleep or rest. Seeing a dim light is like staring into the sun. Hearing whispers as loud as screams.” He swallowed. “If I stay here, it will happen to me.”
I finished my scan and saw Mtulla hovering behind Dhreen. “Is what he’s describing true?”
She shook her head. “We have medicine for it now.”
I left Dhreen at the window and hauled Mtulla into the next room. “What kind of medicine?”
“Sensblok. It’s the only thing that stops the symptoms.”
The slang term sounded ominous. “What kind of drug is it?”
She took a vial from her pocket and handed it to me. “It calms and blunts the senses.”
I scanned it. “This is neuroparalyzer—you can’t use something like this; it’ll kill you.”
“No one has died of it yet.”
When I found the physician who prescribed this, I’d have their license burned. “How often are you taking it?”
She shrugged. “When I can afford to buy it, every hour.”
Neuroparalyzer on demand. Mother of All Houses. “Do you have any idea what kind of nerve damage you probably have, right now?” I dropped the vial and crushed it under my footgear, and saw blind rage flash across Mtulla’s face. “You’re addicted to it, aren’t you?”
She bent down and got in my face. “Do you know how much Sensblok costs, you stupid female?”
“Bill me,” I snarled back.
“Mtulla.” Qonja appeared in the doorway, holding an energy pistol leveled at her. “Do not touch the Healer again.”
“Knock it off, Qonja. She isn’t threatening me.” To Mtulla, I said, “Neuroparalyzer accumulates in the body. If your people are taking it hourly, they’d have toxic levels in their organs within a few weeks. No one gets to be an old chill-juice junkie. How many people have died?”
“None.” Mtulla ignored the pistol and, after a moment, heaved a deep sigh. “I shouldn’t have shouted at you, but you don’t understand. Don’t get involved in this.”
“I’m a doctor. It’s my job to get involved in this.” I left her and went back in to the men, and brought them up to date. “I need to find someone in charge of medical, and talk to them. These people are addicts, and that’s got to be involved with the sterility problem. Let’s go.”
“You’re wrong, Doc,” our guide said as she joined us. “My people became sterile long before we started taking Sensblok.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Eternity Row
Our guide agreed to take us to the Rajanuk, a kind of council made up of leaders from all the domains in the city. They decided on matters pertaining to the people, and relayed data on larger issues to the planetary Rajan, who governed all the Rajanuk from Oenrall’s cities.
“I thought the Bartermen owned everything,” I said.
Her lips curled. “They are only interested in trade. The rest is left to the Rajanuk and the Rajan.”
As she drove us from Dhreen’s home to meet with the city’s officials, I sat behind her and took a couple of discreet scans, comparing the results to what I had on Dhreen. Allowing for the differences in size and body weight, they were essentially identical.
So why was Dhreen able to impregnate Ilona while the rest of his people remained barren?
Mtulla took us out of the boisterous Traders Row to a quieter domain with rows of silent, vacant-looking structures. She parked in front of one and nodded to the entrance. “Rajanuk convenes in there.”
Dhreen frowned. “This isn’t Governance Row.”
“Things change, child.” Mtulla shut down the engine and released the door locks. “The Rajanuk meet where the Bartermen tell them they may.”
Mtulla led us inside, to a large room sectioned off on the sides with small interview areas. What had been a working facility, probably an office, was now a void echoing with our footsteps. At the other end of the room, someone had set up a table, and behind it sat six smiling Oenrallians.
“I’ve brought the visitors,” our guide announced without ceremony, and identified us by name. “They come from the ship in orbit.”
All six smiles widened, and one of the males stood. “Welcome to Oenrall. We are so grateful for your generosity.”
“We have not been asked to be generous as of yet,” Xonea said, walking toward the table. “Perhaps you would explain your needs first.”
The young official held out his hands, palm up. “Our people suffer from the unbalancing disease. If you could spare some medical equipment and supplies, we could prepare a treatment facility and begin addressing the population’s present needs.”
“Oenrall has hospitals,” I said. “Plenty of them.”
“Unfortunately, all treatment facilities have been acquired by the Bartermen Association.” The young male put on an aggrieved air. “The equipment they contained has been removed, along with the medical database, and sold.”
That sounded like the Bartermen. “Why?” I asked.
The earnest amber eyes grew damp. “The people will do anything to get Sensblok.”
“Perhaps we can spare a few diagnostic units,” the Captain said.
I couldn’t exactly see refusing them myself, until Reever came to stand beside me and curled his fingers around mine. Cherijo, he’s lying.
Startled, I looked at him. How can you tell?
His body language, the tone of his voice, choice of words,everything indicates he is being deceptive. My husband inclined his head toward Dhreen. I have observed the same behavior from your friend in the past.
So what do we do? We can’t just accuse the local government of being liars.
Can’t we?
Duncan stepped up beside Xonea. “Official, what is your position within the Rajanuk?”
“I am Moaan, the primary speaker,” the Oenrallian said, “here to—”
Reever interrupted with, “What are the names of the members of the current Rajan?”
Moaan looked at the other natives at the table. “I am not acquainted with their names, but—”
“How often does the Rajanuk convene?” My husband paced the length of the table. “You—do you know at what time they convene?” To a third, he said, “What was the last issue you decided on?”
“We convene every six rotations, at— at the same time.” The Oenrallian lost his grin, and added, “I cannot discuss our past decisions with offworlders.”
“But you can accept our technology.” Reever began pacing up and down the table. “When does the Rajan meet? How do you communicate with the planetary government? Where is it located?”
“These are also confidential matters,” another of the officials blustered.
“A convenient answer,” Mtulla said, and moved toward the table. “I am Rajanukal of Handler Row. You may answer to me on these questions.”
One by one, the officials exchanged glances with each other, then rose out of their chairs. “Another time, perhaps,” Moaan said, easing back away from the table. “This meeting is over.”
“You’re not of the Rajanuk,” Dhreen said, startling everyone. “I know them. Who are you?”
Xonea removed the dagger from his tunic. “Answer him.”
Moaan grimaced, then swept a low bow. “Moann of Players Row.”
Dhreen made a disgusted sound as the other “officials” scattered. “They’re role-players. Actors.”
Mtulla made a sad, pointed comment on how some enterprising Sensblok addicts apparently would do anything, including impersonating government officials, to get their fix.
“One does what one must for Sensblok.” When Xonea eyed Moaan, he backed away with his hands up. “No heat, friends. We take whatever work we can get.”
I frowned. “Someone hired you?”
Moann didn’t answer, but grinned before he raced out the back way.
Mtulla apologized before she sent a signal to her row to locate the “real” Rajanuk. “I should have run a check on them, but it’s been so long since I’ve had dealings with the government that I took it for granted they were genuine.”
