CHAPTER 8
The second rotation arrived and signalled the end of the yellow sun dawn cycle. The group, in cheerful spirits, lay stretched out on the hillock. They took extra mugs of the weak beer and chattered away in the semi-darkness until the red sun made its appearance. Some yawned and began to take their leave.
“Hey, everybody,” Syd Clark called out. “This is like Saturday night. Don’t go to bed yet. Let’s have some fun. Monty, you’re in charge.”
“OK,” Monty responded, not quite knowing what to do. “We need an entertainment committee. I nominate Jeff and Syd.”
“An entertainment committee without women?” Sylvie protested, “I volunteer to be part of the committee, and I ask Alicia and Thelma to join as well. Otherwise the men will have a majority.”
Thelma and Alicia readily assented. Alicia thought ruefully that her idea of entertainment would be to have sex with Monty for the rest period.
It was Syd’s turn to object: “We need another man, otherwise the women have the majority. C’mon, Ernie, I volunteer you.”
“Well,” Monty observed, shaking his head, “what started out as a committee of two is now six. With six active brains, we will no doubt have some good ideas. Unlike most committee work, you’re allowed only one meeting of ten minutes, starting now.”
The six withdrew from the hillock and sat down on the ground in a circle. From the sound of the whispering and giggling, they seemed to be hard at work devising something. Jeff left the committee and disappeared into the cave, returning a short time later. The committee looked serious for a moment, and then Syd stood up, climbed to the top of the hillock and, illuminated in shades of red by the rising sun, addressed the group in a loud voice.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, we are fortunate to have with us the Planet Dawn Players, an awesome band of entertainers who have performed to sell-out audiences in different parts of the Milky Way. Furthermore, they have agreed to entertain us free of charge, provided we look after their accommodation and meals. I‘m sure you will all agree.”
The group applauded its assent. Syd was a natural Master of Ceremonies, at ease on his feet before a crowd. Several slaves, men and women, some with children, drifted out of the caves, attracted by Syd’s speech. The listless look on their faces had not left them, Monty noted, but they were, at least, interested in what was happening. He saw Rebecca leave the house and listen attentively to what Syd was saying. She did not have her usual smile of greeting and seemed very serious, even morose. Monty felt a surge of apprehension. All Joshua could see was Syd addressing the group and would fear that rebellion was in the offing. He had sent Rebecca out to report back.
“Ladies and Gentlemen,” Syd continued, “we will start our spectacular extravaganza with the song stylings of the Songbirds Trio, featuring Miss Sylvie Gagnon, Miss Alicia Vines and Miss Thelma Radko. Musical accompaniment will be provided by Mr. Jeff Leibovitz, harmonica aficionado. Mr Leibovitz apologises that he does not have his piano since he left it on Earth for tuning.”
Rebecca was smiling and returned to the house. A relieved Monty guessed she had understood enough to reassure her father that no revolt was afoot. A few moments later, both she and Noah came out and stood on the path, joined a little later by Emily. Monty noticed the door to the house had been left open and concluded Joshua was listening.
“For our first selection,” Sylvie announced, “we will sing that old folksong favourite ‘Alouette.’ You may all join in on the chorus.”
Jeff gave them an opening few bars and then Sylvie began singing, in a clear gentle voice, the words in flawless French, hung in the air and wafted over the group. Monty noted more slaves coming out of the caves and joining the audience.
“Alouette, gentille Alouette,
Alouette, je te plumerai.
Je te plumerai la tête —Sylvie touched her head—
Je te plumerai la tête
Et la tête
— At this point Alicia and Thelma joined in, repeating the body parts as Sylvie called them.
Et la tête— Thelma sang with gusto in her deep contralto voice, occasionally overpowering Alicia’s soft soprano.
Alouette — Sylvie held out both her arms to the audience —
Alouette — Thelma and Alicia repeated the word and also held out their arms —
Oooooh … — All three sang together, a long drawn out ‘oh’ leading to the next verse.
At the choruses, Alicia and Thelma encouraged the audience to join in. A loud and prolonged ‘oh’ led to the next verse.
The chorus increased in volume as more of the audience responded. When Sylvie called out ‘le dos’, Jeff slapped her playfully on the back; at ‘le queue,’ he reached out to touch her buttocks, and, to everyone’s merriment, she rebuffed his hand with a resounding slap, and in mock terror, moved away from him when she called out ‘les jambes.’ On the final chorus, everyone was singing, even those who did not know the words were ‘lah, lahing’ the melody. Whistles and extended applause greeted the end of the song.
Rebecca was puzzled. She had not understood the words to the song and realized it was in another language. She had enjoyed the melody and the boisterous nature of the chorus. She recognized that Jeff had tried to do something naughty during the song, but no one — not even Sylvie — had been offended; in fact, they had all laughed. Even Syd, whom she felt would never do wrong, had doubled up with laughter. There was much to learn from these people.
Thelma stepped forward and gestured to the audience for silence.
“For our American friends, the Songbirds Trio offers the Battle Hymn of the Republic. You’re all invited to join in.”
Jeff introduced the melody and Thelma belted out the opening verse:
“Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord;
He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored…”
Sylvie and Alicia picked up the chorus: “Glory, glory, Hallelujah! Glory, glory, Hallelujah!...”At the chorus to the second verse, some of the audience joined in, and by the end, all were singing loudly, joyfully, a sense of triumph in their voices.
More slaves had come out of the caves and had enthusiastically joined in. Monty wondered how their captors would interpret the scene. His concern seemed justified when six Warriors appeared at the edge of the crowd, their truncheons raised, but they did not intervene.
Jeff had also recognized the danger for he stepped forward and announced: “Concert goers, I will play a sequence of tunes from Porgy and Bess. Do not sing along, it will drown me out.”
That’s it, Monty thought. Quiet the group down, and hope that the music of the harmonica would convey to the Warriors that this was a peaceful gathering. While there were some good-natured calls from the audience — “Drowning you out would be a good thing” — the crowd stayed silent except for some who hummed along as Jeff played.
Jeff’s rendition of ‘Summertime’ brought a melancholic mood to the audience as the quavering sounds of the harmonica flowed gracefully into the red sun sky. Those who knew the opera quickly identified the constricted lives of the Catfish Row tenants with their own existence; others were reminded of past summers of pleasure and languorous activity, family gatherings and barbecues.
When he played “It ain’t necessarily so,” Alicia could not restrain herself and sang out:
“Little David was small but a mite
Little David was small but a mite
Yet he fought big Goliath
Who lay down n’ dieth
Little David was small but a mite.”
Her sweet soprano mingled with the notes from the harmonica. Monty was impressed with her singing voice, but hoped that their captors, even if they paid attention to the words, would not understand the David and Goliath metaphor. There was much applause when Jeff completed his performance.
The entertainment continued with typical camp fire songs as the group rendered “Home on the Range” and “Shenandoah” and a rollicking “I’ve been working on the railroad” in which everyone joined in. The roar of voices in unison attracted the attention of more Warriors. Another six appeared at the periphery of the audience. Some of the slaves who noticed their arrival drifted away and returned to the caves.
Monty interrupted as the Songbirds Trio was about to announce the next piece: “I think it’s time for a quieter song. Ernie, how about your ‘Danny Boy?’”
At their occasional business retreats and Christmas parties, Ernie had demonstrated his singing talent and was fond of the song. Ernie had also seen the approaching Warriors and felt it was time to calm things down.
“Oh Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling…” Ernie’s clear tenor and the song’s melancholy quality subdued the audience. Some hummed along with the melody. There was a great round of applause when he finished.
“Ladies and Gentlemen,” Syd announced. “We are going to finish on a high note. We will present a musical skit featuring me. This is no laughing matter” — everyone was laughing — “my talent is well known. I won acclaim as Syd Clark, the Singing Salesman in my final engagement on Earth.”
He and the Songbirds Trio moved higher up the hillock close to where Rebecca was standing.
The Songbirds Trio began:
“Oh, where have you been, Billy boy, Billy boy? Oh, where have you been, Charming Billy?”
Without pointing to Rebecca or to Emily, Syd sang in a boyishly loud voice: “I have been to seek a wife; she’s the joy of my life. She’s a young thing and cannot leave her mother.”There were chuckles and laughter from the audience as they understood the intent of the song.
They went through the other verses, with Syd concluding: “She can bake a cherry pie; there’s a twinkle in her eye, she’s a young thing and cannot leave her mother.”
Syd bowed to the appreciative applause of the audience and hoped Rebecca had understood what he was trying to say. The Songbirds Trio and Jeff also bowed. As he clapped his hands, Monty kept his eyes on the Warriors. Would they realize the gathering was over and return to their barracks? Four of them moved towards the hillock, truncheons raised. Monty quickly stood up and bowed. While they acknowledged him, they mounted the hillock and faced an audience that had become very quiet, the tension palpable.
As if on signal, the four Warriors laid down their truncheons, and held out their arms with tendrils fully extended. The audience heard a high-pitched hum emanating from the four. Soon the remainder of the Warriors joined the four on the hillock and formed three rows. The hum now became more audible and modulated in frequency and tone. They were singing. Monty remembered after their arrival on the planet, the Warriors had formed a similar chorus and seemed to be singing to the Red Sun. Now, too, the Red Sun was high in the sky.
The song grew in intensity. There was something captivating, enchanting about it. It’s unearthly, Monty thought, and then recoiled at his stupidity — of course, it’s unearthly. The Songbirds Trio, attracted by the music, lined up beside the last row of Warriors and tried to emulate the sustained high notes of the song. They must have succeeded for the Warrior beside them extended its arm and tendrils around them in a kind of embrace.
Abruptlythe singing stopped. The Warriors retrieved their truncheons but held them down. The audience broke out into wild applause, and there was much bowing back and forth. The Warriors marched off, and Monty sighed in relief.
Rebecca was elated. She had thoroughly enjoyed the music and singing and relished the evening as a distinct and momentous change from her normal life. She understood that Syd had paid special attention to her, but she did not know what a “wife” meant, or what did it mean to bake a cherry pie. She could not imagine why she should leave her mother even if she were not young. Her father had explained that the only time a child leaves the family was when she mates or couples with a man. And as she thought this, the import of Syd’s song occurred to her and flashes of desire raced through her.
Two men and a woman approached Monty as the audience broke up.
“That was wonderful,” the woman gushed. “I almost feel human again. Are you going to have more such entertainments?”
“I hope so. A lot depends how our masters react. They may not like large crowds.”
“You guys are alright,” one of the men said. “We’d just like you to know we’re sorry what happened to Jeff. We’re not with Joe and his gang. Next time we won’t look the other way, and a lot of the guys feel just like we do.”
“Glad to hear it,” Monty said. “We always take our meals here on the hill. Why don’t you, and anybody else who wants to, eat with us? Our get togethers are purely social and morale boosters.”
“Sounds like a great idea,” one of them said as they left.
“What do you have in mind, Monty?” Ernie asked.
“We need a larger network of loyalty if we’re going to succeed in breaking free, or at least keeping people like Joe in check. Sure, there’s a danger in enlarging our group. If it becomes too large, Joshua will break us up”
“It will become larger,” Ernie said. “If the iceberg principle holds, these three will be thirty pretty soon. If we all gather on the hillock, we’ll be around sixty people.”
“Ernie, it won’t happen that quickly,” Thelma suggested.
“Thelma’s probably right,” Monty said. “We’ll watch it. If we start to expand beyond what seems safe, we’ll break up the group into smaller cells. I see this as an opportunity we should develop. We set out to amuse ourselves, and we succeeded in attracting many others. Mind you, that’s why the Warriors showed up — we stepped outside the routine without permission. I’m somewhat anxious about the reaction of the Guardians to the evening. Why the Warriors joined in the entertainment, I have no idea. Maybe they get bored as well.”
Monty awoke early the next sunrise. Showered and dressed, he helped himself to porridge and beer from the unattended food cart. It was quiet in the camp. The rotation of the moon rest period was still in effect, and most of the slaves were taking advantage of the holiday and were still asleep.
Alicia came out of the cave, yawning drowsily. “Wait a few minutes,” she said, “and I’ll have breakfast with you.”
They settled on the grassy top of the bank overlooking the beach, their legs dangling over the edge. “If I get lightning bolted, I’ll never forgive you,” Alicia admonished him. “We’re probably not supposed to be here.”
“It should be ok. We’re far enough from the water, they can see us from the tower, they can see we’re just eating, they know it’s our day off. Now, let’s enjoy our breakfast.”
They ate in silence, contentedly close together, delighted to have a few moments to themselves. He put an arm around her and she rested her head on his shoulder. “Someone should take a picture of us,” she observed dreamily. “Romance during the gold rush.”
It could be called idyllic, he thought. A sandy beach, the restful gurgling of the river, the azure sky, a beloved woman by your side — until you see the watch tower and a large red sun, and remember this is a day off in a life of forced labour. Alicia may have had the same thought for she began sobbing, deep, hacking sobs that tore at him. He tilted her face up and kissed away the tears. “You’ve got to hang in there, Alicia,” he whispered tenderly.
She stopped crying. “I’m sorry. I need to vent once in a while. I so much enjoyed having you hold me, and then the thought hit me that if we had not been kidnapped, you wouldn’t be holding me. I can’t believe that I felt our kidnapping was a good thing. I think I should see the Doctor and have my sanity checked.”
He continued to kiss her upturned face. “We’ll soon all need a sanity check,” he said. “But don’t go to the Doctor. He seems to be passing into the next stage of oppression when you start to love your oppressor. I’m eager to check your sanity from time to time, and you can check mine.”
“So far, your treatment is wonderful. I believe that’s all it takes to make me happy and sane. Well, not entirely, but I promised not to push you.”
They lay back in the grass, side by side, holding hands. How long had it been since their captivity? he thought. A couple of months? And here he was, caressing and fondling another woman, contemplating a life with her, his wife and children receding in memory, soon to become nothing more than a footnote in his life’s memoir. As he lay there on the bank bordering the beach, guilt flowed through him and sapped his desire.
“You’re causing me trouble again.”
Joshua loomed over them.
“The boys in the tower wonder why you are here?”
They rose quickly, picked up their dishes, and started walking back to the cave.
“Mr. Joshua,” Monty explained, deferentially, “we were just enjoying our breakfast. The beach is very nice and quiet when no one is working.”
Joshua did not reply. He shook his head, rolled his eyes and strode rapidly back to his house. “I don’t think he’s happy with us, but I guess we won’t be punished,” Alicia concluded, “and I thank you for a wonderful breakfast. I believe I can face another work period. Now I’m going to do my laundry and fix my hair.”
Monty slept the rest of the red sun through and awoke as the moon was fading in the light of the yellow sun dawn. He could enjoy another twelve hours of leisure before the next shiftand the start of the red sun dawn cycle. He was indulging in a long breakfast and extra mugs of beer, stretched languidly out on the grass of the hillock, when he saw the Doctor arrive.
“I need to see you,” the Doctor said very quietly. “As soon as I say hello to Joshua.”
Awhile later, he sat down beside Monty. “I want to give you a heads-up. You had some kind of gathering last night that’s caught the attention of the camp commander. Apparently, the gathering got large and loud. I told the camp commander that I was not present and knew nothing about it. He played me some tapes of the noise — that’s what he called it — and I could make out ‘Glory, glory hallelujah’ and ‘I’ve been working on the railroad.’ I told him it sounded like you were all having a singsong, a very popular pastime on Earth. It took a long time to explain what a singsong is, that humans do it just for pure enjoyment. Apparently, Guardians don’t sing, but Warriors can and do but not as a pastime.”
It didn’t take long for the repercussions, thought Monty. Aloud he said, “We were just trying to relieve the boredom, and it turned into a real fun evening. It was supposed to be just our little group, but other slaves were attracted and in fact joined in. Is the camp commander going to discipline us?”
The Doctor shook his head. “At the moment, I believe he is merely investigating. He and other Guardians were at their City at a meeting. He received a message from the Warriors that a gathering of the slaves was in progress. Joshua had reported that the gathering was peaceful, and the slaves were simply singing. Nevertheless, the camp commander ordered the Warriors to intervene and to break up the gathering. You know, there was an attempt at rebellion a few years ago, and it started with group meetings. Now, Joshua broke that one up, but the lesson seems to have been absorbed. Gatherings are suspicious. Just be aware you may get called in to explain. Oh, by the way, Rebecca said that not only did the Warriors not break up the gathering, but performed as well. If you tell the camp commander that, I don’t know what he’ll do. Warn the others.”
“I’ll do my best to downplay the whole thing if I’m questioned. Mind you, if others are questioned, the answer may be different.”
The Doctor shook his head. “I don’t think he’ll question others. From past experience, he usually goes after the person he feels is responsible. Joshua has fingered you as the responsible person.”
“I am the responsible person,” Monty affirmed. “I put the others up to devising an entertainment which they did with great success.”
The Doctor stood up. “If you’re allowed to do it again, I’d like to be present. I need something to break the monotony too,” the Doctor insisted. “What actually did you do?”
Monty described in detail the evening, much to the Doctor’s amusement. “Yes, you must invite me next time. I might even have a song or two.” He returned to his clinic.
Monty was called in to the meeting building by the camp commander later on that day. He confirmed what the Doctor had explained.
“Your Excellency,” Monty ended, “I hope you will allow us the privilege of having these entertainments at each rotation.”
The flat voice of the computer replied. “Yes, you may. However, if the gathering gets too large, the Warriors will intervene and you will then disperse. We hope the Warriors that intervened this time were not too rough, but we did instruct them to break up the gathering.”
Monty sensed the significance of the comment. “Your Excellency,” he answered, carefully picking his words, “the Warriors did not need to be rough with us. As soon as they arrived, we knew the entertainment had to end.”
The camp commander appeared satisfied and left the building. The two Warriors who were there during the session were slowly taking the equipment down. One surreptitiously tilted its head and Monty returned the bow. I guess I got them out of trouble, Monty thought. Probably, the charge would have been ‘socializing with the enemy’ if the camp commander had known what actually happened.
The fact that the Warriors had disobeyed the Guardian camp commander and seemed satisfied not to have been caught intrigued Monty. Did this indicate that the cooperation between the two species that the Doctor praised was not that complete? He and the others on his team would watch for this.
In the days following the rotation entertainment, the three slaves who had congratulated Monty joined the group at the meals, along with an additional three. Monty ensured they were well integrated by assigning members of his group to talk with them. They told their stories of capture and their work experiences since arriving on the planet. One of them — Deng Lee, a Chinese-Canadian — particularly interested Monty.
“I don’t want to eat with you under false pretences,” he said as he introduced himself, sweeping his long black hair away from his face. “I’m not a follower of Joe, but I believe he’s right, and we shouldn’t exert ourselves for these mushrooms. Unlike Joe, I don’t get violent to prove my point.”
“That’s ok,” Monty assured him. “We don’t need to have the same views in order to get along. Tell me, do you like to be called Deng or Lee?”
“Deng is the family name. Call me Lee. It’s the Christian name my parents gave me, although Lee is also a common family name among Chinese. I was born in Canada, in Vancouver. The family ran a grocery business on Granville Island and did quite well. I wasn’t interested in the grocery business and decided on oil engineering. Talk about decisions that seal your fate. Me and my two friends here” — he pointed to the two men with him — “were on a winter road driving to an isolated rig when we saw what looked like a windstorm coming at us. We drove right into the damn tunnel and nearly hit the space craft parked there. We made the mistake of leaving the pickup to investigate. Well, here we are, about five years later.”
Monty guessed Deng Lee was in his mid-30’s. Muscular and short, he had a round face with heavy cheeks and dark eyes under thick brows.
“You mentioned Joe — did he give you trouble?”
Deng Lee nodded. “He tried to. He felt I wasn’t accepting him as my leader so he sent Tommy and Johnny after me. In the latrine, just like Jeff. Except I nearly killed them. I’ve a black belt in judo. Joe left me alone after that. The guy’s a coward — everybody thinks he’s tough because he’s bigger than most of us.”
“But he can cause problems,” Monty commented.
“Yeah, he sure can. You may have heard there was an attempted rebellion a couple of years ago?” Monty nodded. “I was one of the rebel leaders. Joe talked big until Joshua came along. He disappeared when the fighting started. I was out cold for a week. I guess I’m lucky I wasn’t killed. When I returned to digging, Joe insisted he had fought long and hard. I know he was lying. I believe Joshua suspected something was brewing and confronted Joe and our brave, tough guy spilled the beans.”
“What was your plan?” Monty asked.
Deng Lee looked cautiously around. He and Monty were sitting close together at the bottom of the hillock, a little away from everyone. He lowered his voice. “Why would you be interested?“
“If it’s not obvious, I’ll tell you why. I want to find a way to break free. I can’t imagine, and I won’t accept, that I have to live like this the rest of my life. That’s why I’m interested. So what was your plan?”
“The idea I had was to break out of the camp and try to find two slaves who escaped and were never found. It’s believed they made it to a part of the planet that the mushrooms haven’t settled, probably because there’s no gold there.”
“Yes, I’ve heard that story. Do you believe it’s true? The Doctor thinks they’re dead somewhere.”
Deng nodded. “Yeah, they could be.But we were desperate enough to try.”
“What made Joshua suspect something was going on. Were you meeting too openly?”
Deng Lee looked around again, shifted closer to Monty and pretended to examine something in the grass. “It could have been Joe currying favour. But I believe we have a mole in the camp, maybe more than one.”
“A mole? Any ideas who?”
“Except for Joe, I’d put my hand in the fire for the other guys that were part of our plot. But there is at least one other example where our plans became known to Joshua. A few of us had agreed to lower our production rate little by little so it wouldn’t be noticed at first. The first shift, Joshua took me aside and said he wouldn’t stand for it and my next discussion would be with the camp commander. Somehow he found out.”
“Well, that’s something to watch out for. Going back to your plan to break out — how would you have made it without weapons?”
“That was a problem we didn’t have a chance to solve.”
Later on, as they walked to the beach, Deng Lee pulled Monty to one side, away from the stream of slaves heading to the shift. They kept on walking.
“Look, I didn’t want to say anything about weapons in case someone could hear. But I’ll tell you because I believe you know what to do with secrets. Joshua has a cache of guns.”
Monty almost stopped but Deng Lee pulled him on. “A cache of guns! How did he get them?”
“From the people he captures. I guess the mushrooms don’t care or don’t catch him.”
“You seem very certain. How do you know?”
Deng Lee kept walking but more slowly. “Long before the rebellion, one of my friends was to be punished for missing his quota for a full dawn cycle. He went to see Joshua to plead for mercy and arrived unexpectedly at his house. Through the window in the door, he saw Joshua with an open trunk filled with guns. My friend backed away, called out Joshua’s name, and then knocked at the door and pretended to have seen nothing. Our plan was to break into the house when Joshua was on a raiding trip, grab the guns and go. Joshua found out we were planning something and beat the living shit out of us. I don’t believe he knows we’ve seen the guns.”
“Any idea what kind of guns?”
“My friend saw mostly revolvers and some rifles.”
“Who else knows this?”
“Just me and my two friends. We kept it quiet. We never told Joe.”
“Why are you telling me?”
“Because, like you say, you’ve got something in mind. You’re not a suck ass or an asshole, so my engineering logic tells me you’re beating the gold quotas for a reason. Count me in when you’re ready, that’s all I ask.”
At the water break, Monty told Ernie about his conversation with Deng Lee. Joshua interrupted them. “I see you have a new friend.”
“What friend?” Monty asked.
“Deng Lee. You walked together to the beach. Beware of your new friend. He will cause you trouble. I will brook no rebellion or attempts to escape.”
“It doesn’t take Joshua long to recognize danger,” Ernie laughed, as Joshua strode on.
Monty nodded. “We need Deng Lee. I’ll ask him to spend less time with me and more time with the others when he joins us for meals. Maybe that will allay Joshua’s suspicions.”
Ernie smiled and shook his head. “Monty, nothing will allay Joshua’s suspicions. As long as we keep this fact before us, we won’t get stupid or complacent.” A whip cracked menacingly over their heads. “We’d better get back to work.”