CHAPTER 14
There was only one cell in the detention building. It was large enough for the three cots placed at one end. At the far end was the latrine, entered through a large door. The exterior wall had one small barred window. The opposite wall was barred its full length. Two Warriors patrolled the corridor beyond the barred wall.
Monty rolled off his cot and walked stiffly to the latrine. Ernie and Jeff were still asleep. He looked out the barred window and watched the moon slowly fade, the sky become dappled crimson, heralding another dawn. He could just see a slice of river, the water sparkling as the yellow sun peeped over the horizon. This was the tenth yellow sun rise since their incarceration.
The three prisoners did not discuss Syd. Monty had warned the other two to expect their talk to be monitored. They confined their conversation to discussing women, past times on Earth, the smell from the latrine, and the lack of exercise.
They learned of Sylvie’s death from the Doctor who stood outside the barred window and delivered the devastating news. For Monty, her death was especially sorrowful. Despite his love of Alicia, he had found Sylvie appealing and considered her important to the group. He had saved her from drowning, for what?
Ernie grieved for her, but mixed in with his grief was his fear for Thelma. He had thought the slaves were safe from harm, that their masters were eager to keep them alive.
Jeff took her death very hard. He had developed an obsession about Sylvie in the six months they had been away. He was convinced that there was a love bond between them. Jeff literally collapsed and didn’t eat for two days. After he started eating again, his grief eased but was replaced with anger.
“Murderers!” he shouted at the guards patrolling the corridor alongside the barred wall of the cell. Both Monty and Ernie jumped on him, pulled him back onto his cot, and held him there until he quietened down.
“Jeff, it’s not going to help,” Monty said. “It’s only going to make things worse.”
“I’d like to meet the bastard who hit her,” Jeff said sorrowfully. “I’d kill him.”
A short time later, the corridor filled with Warriors. One opened the door to the cell and stepped in. The Warrior stood tall and large, its bulbous umbrella head nearly touching the ceiling, its bulk dwarfing the cell. Monty could just see the translation equipment through the press of Warrior bodies in the corridor.
“One of you wishes to meet me and to kill me. Which one?” declared the monotone voice.
Monty stepped in front of Jeff before he could react. “We are all upset that you have killed a defenceless friend. Why did you do it?”
“Warriors do not explain their actions to slaves. One of you wants to kill me. Which one?”
Jeff was not to be silenced. “This is our cell. You have no right to be here. Get out!”
The Warrior shoved Monty out of the way and flayed Jeff across the face with a root arm, knocking him back against the wall. As it lunged forward, Ernie flung his cot in front of the Warrior. It tripped and fell hard against Jeff, pinning him to the wall. Before the Warrior could recover, Monty and Ernie leapt on him and pummelled his head. The Warrior emitted a high pitched scream of either rage or pain as it flung back its arms, throwing Monty and Ernie off and across the cell. It rose and advanced on Monty. There was a commotion in the corridor and the monotone computer blared: “What is happening?” The Warrior froze as it confronted the camp commander who pushed through the assembled Warriors. “Warrior Commander! What are you doing in the cell? What is the meaning of this? We gave no orders to enter the cell.”
They had forgotten they were on the loudspeaker, for the exchange continued.
“The slaves insulted the Warriors. They called us murderers because one slave died. But they are murderers. The escaped slave killed six of our comrades.”
“The escaped slave also killed a Guardian. We are mindful of the need to capture and punish the escaped slave. As for the three slaves in the cell, we will decide what to do with them. You will leave the cell immediately.”
The Warrior didn’t move. “This Warrior Commander protests. Our six comrades were killed because they were not properly armed. Warriors must have the same weapons as the Guardians.”
“You speak blasphemy. The Sacred Writings prescribe how Guardians and Warriors are to be armed. Leave the cell immediately.”
The Warrior Commander was slow to respond. The Guardian flipped its head forward. The visor came down from the crown, and the Guardian reached to the pack strapped to the side of its stalk body. “You are insubordinate. Arrest this Warrior.” Again there was hesitation. Monty could sense the tension.
“The Warrior Commander will not be arrested. I will leave the cell of my own volition.” Slowly, it stepped out and shut the cell door.
The camp commander turned to the other Warriors. “Except for the guards on duty, all others disperse.”
The corridor quickly cleared. The three men could hear angry mutterings coming from the loudspeaker as the equipment was removed. The camp commander marched off.
Jeff’s face was bleeding where the Warrior’s tendrils had splayed him. They helped him wash off the blood. The wounds were not deep and the bleeding soon stopped. “We don’t know how Syd managed to kill seven of them, even if the Warriors are not armed with that laser weapon,” Jeff began.
Monty raised a warning hand. “Maybe he didn’t kill them. Maybe the Guardian and the Warriors got into a fight and in the process annihilated each other.”
“That actually makes more sense,” Ernie agreed. “How could Syd kill a Guardian and six Warriors. If the camp commander hadn’t intervened here, that Warrior would have finished us off, and it was unarmed and we were three against one.”
“Yeah,” added Jeff, “I think there’s more going on here than we know.”
The fight in the cell had occurred the previous day. As he watched the yellow sun rise into the sky, Monty remembered the powerful strength of the Warrior and marvelled that Syd had managed to kill seven mushrooms. They must have a vulnerable spot, Monty thought. Perhaps the head. The Warrior’s reaction could have been pain when we bashed it on the head. There were obvious issues between the two species. Was this also a weakness that could be exploited?
Jeff stirred and sat up, gingerly feeling his face. Some of the scratches had become infected and showed up as red welts.
“Vai, am I ever sore.” He staggered stiffly to the latrine. When he returned, his washed face looked a little less severe.
By now, Ernie was up and stretching. “I’m ready for another fight.”
“One more fight like yesterday, and we’ll be dead,” Monty said.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Jeff said. “If the camp commander hadn’t intervened, we would’ve killed the Warrior.”
“Don’t say it too loudly,” Ernie warned. “It might come back for a rematch.”
They had finished their morning meal when Joshua arrived, accompanied by six Warriors. “The boss man wants you.” Despite Joshua’s usual harshness of tone, Monty noticed a slight air of contrition.
Surrounded by the Warriors and led by Joshua, they marched off to the camp commander. The latter’s office was a command centre with charts and whiteboards clogging the walls. In the middle of the room was a long table with a relief model of the area. At a glance, Monty could see their present location, the river, distant mountains, and at the far end of the table, the city of the Guardians. At the other end was also a mock up of a city, a series of agricultural fields, the retirees village and the path leading back to their present location. The camp commander and another Guardian were standing at the table, while several Warriors marked the charts on the wall. Others were moving markers on the table and seemed to be following the instructions of the two Guardians. When they entered, the camp commander motioned them into a side room, empty except for the translation equipment.
The three prisoners stood in the centre of the room, and Joshua took up a position to the side. When the camp commander entered, they all bowed, but the bow was not returned.
“The escaped slave will soon be caught and if not killed during his capture, will be executed. Rebellion will be punished severely. We judge that somehow, either directly or indirectly, you three have aided and abetted the slave to escape. It is not in our interest to execute you. However, we must demonstrate to the slaves that rebellious behaviour does not go unpunished. Therefore, you will be assigned to a duty that is particularly repugnant to humans. You are hereby assigned, until further orders, to the birthing cavern.”
Monty and Ernie exchanged quizzical looks, but Joshua and Jeff seemed to understand the significance. Joshua hung and shook his head. Jeff swore under his breath.
Led by Joshua and surrounded by Warriors, they left the side room and passed through the command centre into the hot yellow sun and the clear blue of the sky.
“Take a deep breath,” Jeff said, “it’s the last good air for a long time. We’re to become mid-wives to these mushrooms. You two are HR guys. Remember that old joke about poor communication — treat your employees like mushrooms — keep them in the dark and every now and then cover them with shit. Well, that’s going to be our job. I did it once for a whole rotation and thought I’d die. Fortunately for me, some other slaves got punished, and I was relieved and sent back. Digging for gold seemed like heaven by comparison.”
“I’m sorry,” said Joshua. “I truly believe you are innocent but there was nothing I could do. At least, you will not be killed and eventually returned to the camp.”
“Joshua’s right,” Monty said. “They were thinking of executing us. So this is some kind of reprieve. I don’t know what the birthing caverns is all about, but it’s got to be better than the alternative.”
“Hold your judgement, Monty. That’s all I’m going to say,” Jeff said with finality.
The aircraft carrying the prisoners flew towards the mountains where lay the new camp. Before reaching the mountain range, the craft veered left, and passing the next range, flew over a wide valley of tall grassland. It followed a roadway cut through the grass which ran straight to a distant mountain. As the mountain loomed larger, the aircraft descended and landed on a large flat area, edged by an abruptly rising mesa.
The birthing cavern was huge. Carved out of the stone interior of the mountain, it was dimly lit by a chain of electric lights. A narrow planked gallery ran its full perimeter and cut across its vast centre. A large open gondola, suspended from an overhead crane anchored to rails set in the cavern ceiling, moved over the entire area. Outside the cavern, on a flat knoll overlooking the grassland valley. stood three voluminous tanks, connected by a network of pipes. A flexible hose ran from the nearest tank through a man-sized hole in the mountain wall into the interior of the cavern, and was fastened to the gondola.
Two slaves worked the gondola; one operated the driving controls, the other directed the human and agricultural waste that flowed through the hose onto the vast floor of the cavern, carefully avoiding the galleries. The third slave operated the controls at the tank end of the hose and monitored the signals from the gondola. One flash meant stop; two flashes start the flow. From time to time, Guardians and Warriors positioned themselves along the gallery and emptied their spore sacks into the breeding area.
The easiest part of the work was to stand outside on the last tank and control the on/off switch. If the wind were blowing in the right direction, there would be no smell from the cavern, just the sweet smell of the semi-tropical countryside.
Within the cavern, the stench of rotting excrement was pervasive. Fetid foul air penetrated the flaxen masks the two on the gondola wrapped around their faces. No matter how carefully the hose operator directed the effluent flow, it occasionally hit the gondola or part of it blew back, spattering the two with waste.
The three rotated the positions several times a shift, and took turns enjoying the relief that the tank duty allowed. During the mid-shift break, they moved as far upwind from the cavern as their captors would allow.
After the shift, they lowered the gondola to the centre gallery and washed it down A short distance away from the entrance to the cavern, a cascade of water fell from the cliff above into a large shallow pool that emptied into a fast moving stream. They stepped under the cascade fully clothed and washed off the accumulated effluent. Then, they removed their clothing and hung it up to dry on the trees that bordered the pool. Stepping back under the cascade, they washed naked. After drying in the warm air, they donned a second set of clothing that had been washed the day before.
Several times a week, a tractor driven by a slave and pulling three tank containers arrived, escorted by an open vehicle with a Guardian and two Warriors . The convoy came along the straight road cut through the grassland that Monty had observed from the air. The container loads were pumped into the far tank. When completed unloading, the convoy drove back along the road.
“If there’s a heaven and hell,” Monty observed after they had been there a week and were eating the post-shift meal in their tent, “ this has got to be hell.”
Jeff nodded. “It’s the closest we’ll ever come to the Greek idea of the underworld. Only worse. Instead of the river Styx we’re surrounded by a flood of shit. If we keep shouting ‘my name is Eurydice,’ Orpheus will hear and come rescue us.”
“What do you say?” interrupted the monotone computer voice. “Who is Orpheus?”
They were supervised by a Guardian and the usual six Warriors. Two of the Warriors stood guard in their tent with the translation equipment.
“You needn’t worry.” Jeff replied. “Orpheus is peaceful and would ask your permission before rescuing us.”
The three men chuckled, but one of the Warriors left the tent. After a long time, the Warrior returned with the Guardian.
“Our data files report that the story of Orpheus and Eurydice is a myth. We commend our Warrior for investigating your remark, and we caution you that such remarks will aggravate the seriousness of your crimes.”
“Your Excellency, with all respect, I must object,” Monty said, bowing. “The remark was innocent. If we were planning to escape, we would certainly not announce our intention, nor name the individual who would perform the rescue. Any human would have known immediately that we were joking. We cannot censor our speech in case it is misunderstood by our guards.”
“Your objection is insubordination. We have been informed that the three of you are rebellious. You will regret your behaviour. Your attitude must change.” The Guardian left the tent.
“We Warriors will not be made fools of by slaves,” one of the Warriors continued.
“We apologize,” Monty said. “We were not laughing at you. Personally, I am very sorry that you are treated like slaves by the Guardians.”
There was a moment of silence. “We are not slaves.”
“You’re not slaves to us, but you are slaves to the Guardians. They are in charge. They have the special weapon. You follow orders.”
“Our role is prescribed in the Sacred Writings. To think otherwise is heresy.”
Monty persisted, speaking very quietly. “Sir, once again I apologize. I was not challenging your Sacred Writings. On our planet, we also had Sacred Writings which appeared to support one race dominating another. Over time, the dominated race rebels. In some cases, the Sacred Writings were reinterpreted or discarded. Equality is the result, and leadership is based on merit, and competence. Our world continues to prosper as these ideas take hold.”
“It is enough. You are speaking heresy. You are commanded to be silent.”
The next shift, as Monty guided the hose, recoiling, retching from the noxious fumes, he pushed his mind away and focussed on the moment when the prisoners, surrounded by Warriors and led by Joshua, were being herded to a waiting aircraft for transportation to the birthing cavern. They had encountered the shift returning from the beach. Ignoring the Warriors, Monty and Alicia leapt into each other’s arms, and held each other tightly. For a moment, they said nothing, swaying slightly, enjoying the press of their bodies. Monty buried his face in her hair. Despite the caustic smell of the soap she used, and the odour of sweat and river emanating from her clothes, he relished the touch and feel of her. His hand brushed down her back and for a brief moment fondled her buttocks.
“If you’re planning to make love to me,” she whispered in his ear, weeping, “this is not the place.”
“God, I love you. We’ll get together yet. Just hang in there.”
“It’s not much of a romance,” she said, recapturing her sprightly humour. “In six months, I’ve managed to get some kisses, a wave and a hug out of you. Where are they taking you now?”
“We’ve been assigned to the birthing cavern, which is supposed to be punishment.”
“We’re moving too. We’re going to the camp you set up. Just your group is going. The other slaves will stay here until the gold is exhausted.”
As they stepped back from each other, Monty noticed that Ernie and Thelma were also embracing. The rest of his group surged around them, slapping Monty and Ernie on the back, hugging Jeff, and mouthing words of encouragement.
Joshua interrupted. “You have to go now. These boys are losing patience.”
A high pitched shriek from below interrupted Monty’s memories. Peering over the lip of the gondola, he realized he hadn’t been paying attention and had splattered a Warrior, who had left the deck and was walking gingerly through the muck. Ernie, on the controls, stopped the gondola and signalled for the effluent flow to cease. A short distance away from the advancing Warrior, they could see a section full of yellow coloured bodies that had emerged a week earlier and had grown a foot or two in height. The section seemed to be writhing and moving as the yellow coloured bodies came alive and milled about. The Warrior, now helped by other Warriors, herded them towards the centre gallery and then out the exit. Jeff, on the outer tank, watched the junior versions of Guardians appear and head to a feeding ground beyond the tanks.
When the shift was over and they were eating, Jeff noted: “There were at least two dozen of those little bastards. At this rate, they’ll populate the whole Milky Way. More Guardians for our eventual benefit.”
They were quaffing their beer when a Warrior approached carrying a bucket. Without warning, it emptied the contents of the bucket over them, covering them in raw waste. It tossed the bucket at them and walked away. Monty snatched up the bucket and was about to throw it at the retreating back of the Warrior, when Ernie grabbed him, restraining him.
Under the cascade of water, Monty cooled down further. “You were right, Ernie. Had I started a fight, it might have been disastrous for all of us.”
He picked up the fallen bucket, washed it out, and brought it to the Warriors lounging about not far off, and placed it in front of them. He turned and walked away without bowing. He could hear a chorus of angry shrieks behind him and expected at any moment to be hit with a truncheon, but nothing happened.
The Warriors did not forget the slight to the canon of respect due them. When the rotation rolled around several weeks later, the three men were informed they would receive no holiday but would continue on their shifts “until you learn good behaviour.”
“Sorry, guys,” Monty said. “It’s my fault.”
“It’s ok,” Jeff responded with his usual humour. “The challenge of this work makes you want to stay on the job.”
“Yes,” added Ernie, “but Monty always counselled us that breaks are important to avoid burnout.”
If their captors were seeking a gesture of anger or regret, they were disappointed as the three men, laughing, went to their stations.