Rebels of Akrona

Part Five

by G. Lawrence

After 200 years, a conquered planet fights back

In Slave of Akrona, a young soldier had been taken captive on a conquered planet 1,200 light years from Earth. After seven years as a slave, he escaped into the mountains. Now free, Grey had been working to raise an army. Rebels of Akrona is being told in eight parts.

Recap; Grey has liberated the enslaved people of Karak, but many challenges remain.

* * * * * *

Chapter Eight

WINTER'S RESOLUTIONS

"My lord, the last of the shaba'kar return," the leathery aide-de-camp reported, entering the governor's office with trepidation.

"Excellent, Pharlatro. How many slaves are recaptured? How many primitives slain?" Governor Zenatro asked, sitting on a wide stool behind a large quartz desk. The walls were reinforced yellow limestone, the floors cobalt granite. Murals of swampy green landscapes gave the room color. Warm air flowed in through the open windows.

"None, my lord," Pharlatro said.

"No primitives slain?"

"None, Excellency."

"Captured?"

"The food-creatures have disappeared."

"Impossible! Two thousand slaves do not disappear!" Zenatro shouted, pounding the desk with a clenched claw.

As the embarrassed aide withdrew, Zenatro waddled to the seventh-floor balcony of the tallest tower in Va'ragashant. Below him, merchants were going about their business in the colonial square. A few early morning customers were in the marketplace looking for soft nuts, succulent roots, and fresh meat. Few knew of the revolt far to the south, though doubtless rumors would soon circulate. Zenatro would provide no confirmation. His régime was unpopular enough already.

"Where is Cordaris? Why has the Contingent failed me?" Zenatro asked to no one in particular.

Unlike most Arikhan, the middle-aged governor was not tall and lean. Barely two meters high, he was growing round in the middle. Though sufficiently blue in his facial features for the minor nobility, his administrative skills had not taken him beyond his current post. A backwater planet long past its prime.

"The Contingent Leader comes," Pharlatro announced as Cordaris entered.

A soldier with a fierce demeanor, Cordaris paused in the doorway taking in the scene. Large black eyes peered from a narrow brown face, the jaw long and teeth sharp, though the fangs only showed when the thin lips were drawn back. His black tunic was decorated with four silver swamp leaves, indicating many years of honorable service. Two and a half meters in height, heavy but not overweight, he was typical of aging frontline officers now fobbed off to garrison duty.

"Reporting, as instructed," Cordaris growled.

"Karak is burned?" Zenatro asked.

"The barracks are burned. The camp remains."

"The slaves?"

"We implemented a thorough search. The primitives only had sixty her'ret. They cannot move the slaves very far, and there is evidence of them hiding in the southern mountains. By spring, we will flush them out."

"Why wait until spring? Why not strike now?" Zenatro objected.

"Winter comes. Worry not, the slaves will be starving by the time the snow melts."

Zenatro led Cordaris to his private suite overlooking the city. Straddling the Lara'net River, Va'ragashant spread out for several kilometers, largely two- and three-story stone buildings made in traditional hive architecture. An old rock wall surrounded the tree-lined plaza, often used for official ceremonies. Three main boulevards reached north, east and south, lined with trading posts and boarding houses. As the population grew to a hundred thousand, elegant housing had appeared on the hills west of the river. Dozens of large lakes dominated the lush green countryside.

"It is true? The primitives rode on large animals to kill our guards? It is a monstrous thing," Zenatro said, his long pale tongue lashing with disgust.

"Yet not without precedent. Other cultures have used her'ret in such a way. Our garrisons will not be caught by surprise again."

"We should build a fortress at Karak."

"That hardly seems necessary," Cordaris objected, reluctant to admit that none of his Contingent would willingly serve at such a place. "We will increase our air patrols. These primitives will not dare raise their insolent heads again."

"We have lost 80% of our Akronium production. Contracts on the new cargo ships cannot be fulfilled," Zenatro complained.

"What did you expect? How could a fool like Kanatro be expected to manage such a vital operation?"

"He held proper rank."

"Did he? Or were bribes accepted for the posting?"

"Could you have done better?"

"I would not have indulged my whims. Lord Gamtro's system was working."

"Gamtro's system? Or Gamtro's famous pet?"

"Gamtro was Sarden Leader. The responsibility was his. The Ben-creature was merely his servant."

"A servant who--"

"The system was working. The mines were producing more than ever before. Kanatro should have left it alone," Cordaris insisted.

"You speak heresy."

"Prosperity is not heresy," Cordaris countered, eye-rings bent.

"I will not entertain such impertinence, commander," Zenatro warned.

"The guilds will say worse when they cannot fulfill their contracts."

"Prospectors have discovered promising mineral deposits in Drakon Valley. If we gather enough slaves, mines could be operating by summer."

"That is not the Contingent's concern. We will continue searching for the escaped slaves. Do not expect us to break your rocks, too."

Without additional comment, Cordaris left the Citadel, going down the long flights of marble ramps to the plaza.

"You may come out now," Zenatro said, once Cordaris was gone.

Kanatro sheepishly emerged from the adjoining office, no longer the comfortably plump bureaucrat he had been just a year before. His bony jaw drooped. Sagging rings appeared below his reddish eyes. The fleshy cheeks shimmered with light traces of blue.

"Cordaris cannot be trusted," Kanatro complained, holding a cup of the governor's imported wine.

"I am not afraid of a commoner," Zenatro dismissed.

"The risk is too great. Remove him from command," Kanatro urged, lashing his tongue.

"And who should replace him?"

"I once held such a post. With four shaba'kar, I would soon have these rebels crushed."

"Cordaris cannot be removed. Not yet. He commands two hundred loyal militia."

"Hire mercenaries," Kanatro suggested.

"Lady Gamtra's commissions may finally be at an end, but the Council of Warriors has no patience for provincial turmoil. If I cannot control this world with my own resources, they will remove me from office."

"Primitives are naught but savages. Raids over the mountains will send them crawling into their caves."

"Go to Drakon. Start my new mine," Zenatro directed.

"Mining is for peasants. I would manage the assembly plant at An'cor," Kanatro requested.

"You had no objection to mining when I sent you to Karak."

"Gamtro was a deceiver. In some manner, he seduced the slaves in an unholy violation of all tradition. It is a simple thing to grow rich if you are a criminal."

"You are not rich."

"I have paid heavy commissions to become rich," Kanatro protested.

"Where Akrona had once built warships for the Arikhan fleet, now all we produce are cargo vessels. And few of those."

"The Guilds are seeking new contracts," Kanatro mentioned, for it was spoken of in the taverns.

"Which cannot be filled. Open my new mine. Without Akronium, our enterprise falters."

"It will be as you say," Kanatro agreed, preparing to leave.

Zenatro grabbed the taller Arikhan by the sleeve. A breach of protocol.

"Kanatro, is it true that Karak was productive until you reopened the pens?"

"It was my right."

"I care nothing about your rights. I care about production. Do not fail me, old comrade, or it will be you who breaks the rocks."

* * * * * *

More than four hundred light-years away, Livy disembarked from the private transport in midtown, thanking the driver. Bynatro followed, carrying their satchels. The boulevard was busy, the government center always crowded in the late morning. Above her loomed the Commerce Spire, one of twenty tall towers surrounding Capitol Plaza. As modern structures rarely rose above three stories, the twelve-story towers always received extra attention.

"Welcome home, Countess," the guard said, opening a portal for her. She was an old commoner, former military, now supplementing her pension.

"Thank you, Lartran. How fares our city?" Livy asked.

"Quiet somedays. Others not so quiet," Lartran answered.

Livy and Bynatro entered a lift, traveling to the Commerce Committee offices on the 11th floor. The glass elevator provided a grand view of the city, the largest on Arikhan, though Livy seemed preoccupied.

"How do you fare?" Bynatro asked, eye-rings curled.

"This is a hard duty," Livy said.

Bynatro entered the offices first, Livy hesitating at the door. Forty staff members were on duty, all commoners. Aristocrats kept their offices a floor above, as was fitting. Greetings were exchanged. Bynatro volunteered to tell of their adventures, sitting on a granite desk while accepting a cup of Lafarian wine.

Livy climbed the final ramp alone. A wide decking allowed sun and fresh air to circulate through the spacious rooms. Two secretaries, both of the minor nobility, were reviewing trade reports from all over the empire. Twenty-four planets and several large moons spread across thirty star systems. Livy continued into Lady Gamtra's private office.

"Livy, praise Sherra you've returned safely," Gamtra said, rushing to brush claws. "You were gone so long, and there have been strange rumors."

"There is news. I am afraid it is bad," Livy said, accepting the embrace.

"Has Kanatro broken his agreement with the slaves?"

"Kanatro has not learned from his mistakes, but that is not the bad news. There was trouble."

Gamtra thought Livy looked tired. Stressed. She led her young cousin back into the study where pillows littered the floor. Murals of swamp trees and green lakes decorated the walls. Gamtra found Livy a cup of tea, kneeling on the floor next to her.

"Take a moment, and then tell me of this trouble," Gamtra said.

Livy sipped the tea, building her courage.

"Against your wishes, Bynatro and I went to Karak. Kanatro was not there, but we accessed his records."

"You should not have taken such a risk."

"There was little risk, at first. Our investigation was completed on the second day. We intended to take the train back to Va'ragashant in the morning, but just after sunrise, there was shooting. Strange humans attacked the compound. They overwhelmed the garrison and freed the slaves."

"Freed? The entire camp?"

"All of them."

"I have never heard of such a thing."

"The guards were no less surprised. Many were killed. Others surrendered and were granted their lives."

"You must have been in great danger."

"I was given special status by their leader. A fur-covered barbarian they call Akeem."

"Akeem? Akrona has legends of such a creature."

"His authority was unquestioned. After the fighting, the slaves fled into the mountains. The Contingent has sworn to track them down. In the winter, without food or shelter, I am afraid they will perish."

"This is very sad. I am glad you were unhurt," Gamtra said, getting more tea.

"There is more sadness. Akeem bade me be messenger to you."

"To me? What did this creature know of me?"

"He did not explain, only to give you his message. Though I did notice something strange about him. When he first confronted us in the camp headquarters, his words were well-spoken. As one fluent in our language. But in the train car, before the captured guards, his accent was primitive. The words broken. And he knelt to me in homage, which the commoners were quick to speak of when we returned to Va'ragashant. It was slyly done."

"He sounds like a clever animal," Gamtra said. "What is this message?"

"Akeem said to tell you the slaves of Akrona will be slaves no more. And that Shalli sits in Sherra's shadow."

"What? No. No, it cannot be," Gamtra said, falling back on a large cushion. Livy went to help, supporting Gamtra before she rolled to the floor.

"I am so sorry, Dogra. I wish it were not true."

Livy slowly drew the ivory necklace from her pocket, placing it in Gamtra's claw. Gamtra clutched it with reverence.

"Shalli. Shalli," Gamtra said, her tongue lashing softly. "What happened?"

"She died in a cave. On a mountain, in the snow."

"What of Ben? What of her egg?"

"I think maybe Ben died there, too. But Shalli's daughter has thrived. She is called Hope."

"One night, toward our final days at Karak, I sat with Shalli in our nesting," Gamtra recalled, her eyes filming over. "She was with child. Underweight. I gave her soups and feared for her. Shalli said that her fate did not matter, only that her child be born in freedom."

"Her egg was born in freedom," Livy said, eye-rings flat. "Akeem also said to tell you that Shalli made a final declaration, just before she died, which you would understand."

"By Sherra's Mercy," Gamtra whispered.

"Do you understand the message?"

"Yes. Perhaps one day I shall tell you what it means."

* * * * * *

The salt camps amid the Varish Expanse lay behind them. Ahead, the prairie was giving way to lowland forests. Far from civilization, several small Arikhan settlements had been built along the brisk creeks flowing southeast.

"I see another town," Taba said. "And roads. Not the iron rails of a train, but flat paths. I think they are laid with stone."

He was dismounted, holding the reins of his horse. Three other scouts stood with him under the shade of a forested ridge. A vast river valley lay before them.

"They call these lands the Green Belt," Taba said. "The hornfeet have built many settlements here."

"Are there slave camps?" Conapt asked.

"I don't see any," Taba said, using field glasses.

"We haven't seen a sho'kar in three days," Barris mentioned. "And none of these villages have warriors. If we go back to the salt camp, the guards will be taken by surprise. Ben? Did you hear me? We can free the slaves there."

Conapt and Taba looked at Grey, who frowned.

"Let's survey this valley," Grey suggested.

He walked along the crest of the ridge for a better view of the village. It was typical of the frontier settlements that Lord Gamtro had described. A main boulevard with eight or ten brick buildings, and several dozen rock cottages spread out in a web. An aqueduct provided fresh water.

"What do you think, Akeem?" Taba whispered.

"The settlement seems self-sufficient. They probably produce a few exports. Timber or raw materials. I see a row of shops, and their community center. There is a winter wheat crop growing down the far hill. They only have a few trucks."

"Trucks?" Conapt asked.

"Cargo vehicles with the strength of a hundred horses. They're rare this far south because of the bad roads."

"This village has a good road," Barris observed.

"Yes, that's an interesting development," Grey acknowledged.

"Are there many hornfeet?" Conapt asked.

"Between eighty and a hundred," Grey guessed. "No soldiers."

"An easy conquest," Barris said.

"Return to the ravine," Grey ordered.

Walking through the yellow winter grass, the four scouts made their way down the hill into a deep hollow. As Conapt cared for the horses, Taba cooked their meal. Barris drew Grey aside.

"We can free the salt camp," Barris said.

"We're not going back into the desert. I want to free those slaves as much as you. It's not the time."

"Many may die before spring."

"Don't you think I know that?" Grey barked more harshly than he intended.

Taba and Conapt looked over, embarrassed to see the old friends quarreling. Grey knew the young forest men agreed with Barris.

"We have a difficult war ahead," Grey explained. "To win a war, we need planning. We need information. We need to seize the initiative when the moment is right. There are weaknesses in the hornfeet positions, but if we reveal our intentions prematurely, these weaknesses will disappear. War makes for hard decisions. I've made them before, and I'll continue making them. Am I understood?"

"Yes, Akeem," Conapt and Taba both said.

"I understand," Barris reluctantly agreed.

That night, it began to snow. The riders went down into the village before sunrise, stole white linen from the mercantile, and rode out again draped in winter camouflage.

"We were never even noticed," Taba said as they reached the river.

"Let's do our best to keep it that way," Grey said.

* * * * * *

Four scouts rode into Saramont, attracting little attention at first. It was late in the afternoon, the marketplaces getting ready to close. Fishermen were coming up from the river. Herdsmen made a final check of their pens. As a dozen people gathered around, Grey dismounted first, followed by Barris, Conapt and Taba. They had full beards and grimy clothes.

"Four rode into the lands of the hornfeet. Four have returned," Conapt announced, pulling back his hood. Taba said nothing, embracing Leena as she rushed into his arms.

Helva and Clagg came forward next. Grey was not surprised they had become close friends in the three months since the raid on Karak.

"You were gone longer than expected," Helva said, helping Grey unbuckle his weapons.

"The Contingent was in the south, searching for the escapees. It provided a good opportunity to inspect the border region," Grey replied.

"What did you find?" Garn asked, emerging from the growing crowd.

Grey looked around at the many faces, all curious. When Taba started to reply, Grey stopped him.

"It's good country," Grey said.

The group moved forward under a canopy of trees, steep cliffs to the left, the wide river down to the right. They soon came to Catspaw where Helva and Kastara had offered a home to Clagg's family.

"We have a cave for special gatherings," Helva explained in the accent of the forest.

"Better than a mine shaft," Clagg added, his accent from the slave camps.

Grey noticed they spoke a common language, but it would be awhile before they spoke the same language.

"Have you a stable for our mounts?" Grey requested.

Several boys and girls rushed forward to take care of the horses, leading them to a sheltered canyon.

"This way," Helva invited.

They followed a worn trail up the hillside, passed through a steep rock crevice, and entered a comfortable cave warmed by a robust fire. The riders cast off their heavy coats.

"Myra and Kastara will be here soon," Clagg assured them.

"Did Lopota's rangers return safely?" Grey asked, sitting on a thick fur.

"Yes. They moved deep into the mountains while leaving many clues, then slipped away to Owlmont as instructed," Helva reported.

Young women rushed to bring the travelers fresh bread and ale. Karla took off Grey's heavy boots, rubbing his feet. Farina helped remove the dirty shirt, rubbing him with a soapy sponge before supplying a heavy robe.

"I will give you a bath later," Farina purred, getting smiles from some and frowns from others.

"How are the refugees doing?" Grey inquired.

"We tolerate them. They tolerate us," Helva answered.

"Our peoples have been separated for ten generations. It will take time," Clagg added.

Grey was satisfied they were making the effort, though he suspected problems may lie ahead.

"We'll build more burrows in the spring," Grey said. "New crops can be grown in the Shallows."

"Raynaar and Ussan have already drawn up the plans," Helva informed.

It occurred to Grey that Saramont already had good leaders before he arrived. Perhaps he should let them do their jobs.

A few minutes later, Myra arrived with Hope. Now a year old, the baby was growing fast. Grey was glad to see everyone looking well. The gaunt looks were gone. A sense of security permeated the cave.

"Hope has Shalli's eyes," Myra said, dressed in native clothing. Grey had never seen Clagg's wife so relaxed.

"And she'll grow up free," Barris said, getting his first look at Grey's daughter.

"We've journeyed far and seen much. The world west of the mountains is not like ours," Conapt said, accepting a cup of reeba.

"Let me find Raynaar and Ussan. They'll want to hear," Helva suggested, getting up with a grunt.

"They already come," Leena said, giving Taba a bowl of hot soup. Taba took her hand and smiled. Leena put Taba's hand on her stomach.

"You will be a father soon," Leena said, getting a long kiss in return.

Nole and Court helped Barris to a place in their circle, making sure their son-in-law was comfortable. It seemed to Grey that many from Ferret and Deer camps had found homes in Helva's village. He saw Pie and Keep, both young women looking strong. Their new outfits were cut to flaunt their shapely figures, unlike the baggier clothing they'd worn at Karak.

Grey also noticed Turk and Burne, both burly young men now, and Barris' skinny cousin, Rat. Their shaggy black hair and dark eyes contrasted with the generally lighter colors of the forest people. And Garn already seemed taller, his gaze more discerning than one would expect from a ten-year-old.

Before long there were fifty people offering food and waiting to hear the adventures.

"Our stories will take long in the telling," Taba said. "We saw many slave camps on our journey. Most are worse than anything you can imagine."

"We couldn't free them this time, but that day will come," Conapt swore, his brow bent.

"Always did we think our lives difficult," Barris said, primarily addressing his own people. "I wouldn't feel the pain of losing Tak again, but hundreds suffer just as much. It was hard to look at."

Grey remained quiet, rocking Hope in his arms. Garn sat next to him with a plate of baked fish. Grey rubbed the boy's curly auburn hair.

"You've grown," Grey said.

"Now that I live in freedom, I'll grow more. Have you kept your temper, uncle?"

"Yes, but it was hard. Much have I missed your wise counsel."

Garn blushed. Clagg and Myra held hands, proud of their son. Taba and Leena laughed.

"May we offer reeba, Akeem?" Leena asked, holding a goblet. "Akeem? Akeem?" She nudged his shoulder.

"What?" Grey said, his mind having wandered.

"Will you have reeba?" she repeated.

"Yes. Thank you, Leena," Grey replied, gratefully accepting the fermented brew.

Soon Raynaar and Ussan arrived, taking seats around the fire. The forest leaders spoke of the trek back from Karak, helping the former slaves find homes along the river, and ways to provide for the expanded population.

"It's as we planned before the march, though some changes were necessary," Raynaar explained.

"Does all meet with your approval, Akeem?" Ussan asked.

"You know more of such things than I," Grey said, much to her satisfaction.

After Conapt, Taba, and Barris spoke of what they'd seen, all eyes looked to Grey.

"You have little to say," Raynaar said.

"There will be much to say, in time," Grey replied. "I would like the tribal leaders to gather at Taramont when the winter breaks."

"Will it be a war council?" Raynaar asked.

Grey stood up, took another sip of reeba, and walked about the cave studying his audience. Everyone grew quiet, waiting for him to speak.

"Brothers and sisters, we have seen an enemy in disorder," Grey said, finishing his drink and motioning for more. "While the best hornfeet warriors wage war on their frontier, their empire leaves behind poorly arrayed militia. The colonial government is mismanaged and underfunded, which leaves many weaknesses."

"Will this allow us to free more slaves?" Helva asked.

"Not just more slaves," Grey grimly revealed. "It will allow me to take control of this planet."

The room grew silent. They knew it was Akeem's destiny to free their world, though few thought that could actually happen. Grey's declaration was breathtaking. All were convinced he spoke the truth.

"Once we capture the hornfeet cities, what will we do? Slay them?" Conapt asked.

"No, we will not slay the hornfeet," Grey said.

"They are our enemies," Helva protested.

"Our oppressors," Barris added, gripping his knife.

"The past doesn't matter," Grey said. "This is a new kind of war. The hornfeet aren't going away. They rule a large empire spread across two dozen star systems. Their empire may grow larger. It may not. One day this world will be free of their rule, that doesn't mean you will ever be free of their influence. The price one pays for freedom is to compromise with reality."

"I don't understand," Helva said, scratching his head.

"You will, but first we must train an army. I need rangers, teamsters, doctors, and supply. Most importantly, I need volunteers to learn the Arikhan technology. Are such volunteers available?"

"There are hundreds," Clagg assured him.

"Thousands!" Leena said, holding up her hand.

"That's good," Grey responded, taking a crystal globe from his backpack and setting it out for everyone to see.

"What's that?" Leena asked, leaning over the brightly lit sphere.

"This is a recorder, Leena. It was taken from the headquarters at Karak. It's a device the Arikhan use to communicate information. You've been studying their language. Now you'll have access to entire libraries. This knowledge will give us strength."

"Just like you used the hornfeet weapons against them, now you'll turn their tools against them," Ussan said, nodding with understanding.

Grey returned to Hope, finding joy in her blue eyes. Farina made room for him to sit next to her, bumping his shoulder with an unspoken reminder. Some approved of the young woman's interest, believing Akeem needed such attention. Others didn't think the relationship appropriate with Shalli but a year in her grave.

"Enough of war for tonight," Raynaar announced, preferring to reserve strategy for a more select body. "Our brothers have returned from a hard journey. Now they will eat, rest, and give time to their families."

Grey needed no convincing, spending the evening bragging about the beauty of his daughter and correcting myths spread by Garn. When Black Hands arrived, he scooted over to make room for her, clutching her elbow.

* * * * * *

The former sub-leader of Karak disembarked from the public transport, thanking the operator. The driver lashed a tongue in thanks as he accepted a modest gratuity. Green meadows, lush grasslands, and a quiet country road surrounded her. Before her lay the majestic grounds of Kall' Tree, the ancestral home of Lady Gamtra and her mate, Baron Gamtro. For a commoner such as herself to be invited was a great honor.

The entry arch was made of blue limestone, the elegant walkway lined with yellow roses and drooping swamp trees. A groundskeeper looked up from his gardens, curious but not questioning.

"I am Romtra," she introduced at the front door, setting her travel bag down.

Romtra's new red tunic was highlighted with maroon trim and showed off her tall, powerful figure. It was not the highest quality, but sufficient for one of her station. A silver swamp leaf decorated her lapel.

"Welcome, warrior," Jastron the Caretaker greeted.

Though Romtra had once been a warrior, before extended service led her to Akrona, she said nothing of it. Those days were long past.

"Does the Lady Gamtra abide?" Romtra asked, her accent provincial.

"Lady Gamtra awaits in the gallery," Jastron replied, leading the way. Romtra noticed the old butler was bent and slow. Likely pensioned. Perhaps a warrior in his youth.

Kall' Tree was not quite a palace but might pass for one. As many of the Great Houses did. Two stories high, with broad sundecks and grand rooms, Romtra could hear the thud of her leather boots echo through the halls.

The long gallery offered artworks and sculptures. Several she recognized. When Baron Gamtro became concerned his famous pet was working too hard, Ben had been forced to take up a hobby. His oil paintings of lonely planetary outposts and ravenous black holes invoked deep feelings of life's precarious nature. Romtra was glad Lady Gamtra had rescued the canvases from Karak.

Through large windows, Romtra found a wonderful view of the gardens. There was a pond, waterfalls, and shrines for offerings. It was everything she had always imagined Kall' Tree would be. At the far end of the gallery, Romtra saw a figure huddled under a shawl, staring into a fireplace.

Romtra was shocked. The Lady Gamtra looked terribly thin, the eyes sunken. Her illustrious webbed membrane hung in ragged twists. Even her tunic was unwashed. An ivory necklace lay entwined in her claws.

"I do not mean to intrude," Romtra apologized, beginning to back away.

"Nonsense, Romtra. All those who served my mate so loyally at Karak honor our house," Gamtra replied, straightening her appearance. "Have the seasons been kind to you?"

"My home is comfortable. I visit often with Frontra and Nabbatron at Lamby," Romtra said.

"I thought Frontra sought placement at the Temple of Mi'Nera?" Gamtra questioned in surprise.

"Frontra changed her mind after Mordari was arrested. Now she seeks to serve in another fashion."

"How may a heart so good as Frontra's serve such an empire as this?" Gamtra said, her tongue lashing bitterly.

Romtra glanced over her shoulder, making sure none of the servants were close enough to hear. Gamtra noticed the caution. Romtra knelt at her side.

"Then you still hear Mordari's voice?" Romtra whispered.

"What good is a voice? What good is anything?"

"Except for Mordari, most have small voices. Only in numbers can the Truth be told," Romtra said with unexpected intensity. "You have a voice louder than many, but I have not come to speak of that. There is news from Akrona."

"Shalli is dead. Dead because of me. What news can make a difference now?"

"You have not heard of Akeem?"

"The forest bandit? Another false hope for the food-creatures."

"Then you do not know of Akeem," Romtra said.

"What is there to know?"

"Where may we talk?"

Gamtra slowly rose from her stool, leaning on a cane, and led Romtra into the gardens. A pale-yellow sun lit the green landscape, the air appropriately moist.

"A perfect day," Gamtra mumbled.

"Which only adds to your misery," Romtra said.

"A perfect day. The perfect home. Loyal servants and a loving mate, and yet all seems so pointless. I visited the Shrine of Ber' Nar, but found no solace. Just another monument of dead stone."

"Not all monuments must be dead stone. Pilgrims venture to Akrona, there to build a new monument. A monument that celebrates life."

"More false gods."

"Shalli is not a false god," Romtra declared.

"Shalli?"

"A priestess has arisen with a powerful message."

"What priestess is this? Another street corner preacher?"

"The Countess of Mill' Tree."

"Asktra? I do not think she even believes in the gods," Gamtra said, eye-rings wide.

"She does now. She prayed for Shalli's intervention with Sherra, and both of her granddaughters laid down healthy eggs."

"And she believes Shalli intervened?"

"Most deeply. She now journeys to Akrona with Baroness Darlatra and a hundred pilgrims. Can it be you are surprised? Was it not foretold in your Chronicles?"

"I do not understand," Gamtra said.

"You wrote that when Shalli prayed to Sherra for the blessing, it was granted, even though she was a food-creature. Certainly, Sherra saw something special in Shalli's heart. Your portrayal of her kindness and devotion awakened many souls. Then this sacred spirit, blessed with new life, was beset by closed hearts. Martyred on a high mountain, protecting her egg with her last breath. An egg named Hope, said to be healthy and strong. And because of her great compassion, Shalli now sits at Sherra's feet, seeking favor for those with faith. She will fight for our eggs, just as she fought for her own."

"Have many come to this new belief?" Gamtra asked, leaning on her cane.

"Hundreds, so far. Before long there will be thousands."

Romtra glanced around the garden, noticing a marble bench shaded by drooping willow trees. Bees and mosquitoes buzzed about the long reeds. She helped Gamtra sit, then knelt next to her.

"We must be discreet," Romtra softly warned.

"You are too mysterious," Gamtra questioned.

"Shalli may have died on the mountain, but her family lives. They were rescued from Karak and taken to safety."

"Baron Gamtro is told the slaves starved to death in the mountains."

"Zenatro puts out false reports. The slaves are safe in the eastern forests. And there is more. With her dying breath, Shalli named you Hope's godmother."

"News of Hope was brought to me by Livy, but I did not believe."

"You may believe."

Gamtra remembered the day that Shalli had announced the blessing. And declared that Gamtra would be her daughter's protective spirit. Gamtra had declined, thinking such a role inappropriate. The disappointment in young Shalli's eyes still haunted her.

"And this Akeem protects her?"

"Akeem is her father," Romtra said

"Akeem? Shalli's mate was named Ben."

"Ben is Akeem," Romtra said.

"Livy said Ben died on the mountain."

"The Countess is mistaken."

Gamtra rose from the bench to stand at the pond, leaving her cane behind. Romtra found her at the water's edge, claws quivering.

"By the Grace of Sherra, Mordari's prophecy comes true," Gamtra said, softly lashing her tongue. "When we found Ben chained to Vulture Rock, Mordari said it was a sign. An unmistakable message. When I did not understand, Mordari called me a stupid child. I was so blind."

"Will you use your influence to curb Zenatro?" Romtra asked.

"I will do more than that. Tell me of Shalli's shrine. And the revolt on Akrona. Tell me everything."

* * * * * *

The morning after his return from the Varish Expanse, Grey visited the Karak refugees, now being taught the ways of the forest. Spread over several valleys, some lived in burrows, others in caves until better quarters were built. Food appeared plentiful. Though he'd known most of the former slaves for many years, they looked at him with awe. Dressed in woodland green, his hair shaggy and beard thick, Grey returned the greetings with hugs and handshakes. Many children were patted on the head.

"More survived than I thought," Grey remarked to Barris.

Taba and Leena walked behind them. Conapt and Olda followed leading pack horses filled with supplies.

"What are these camps they speak of?" Conapt asked.

"The workers at Karak were divided into tribes," Grey explained. "When I first arrived at Karak, Wolf Camp was the strongest. And very cruel. When they were overthrown, Raven Camp became the strongest."

"In what manner were they overthrown?" Leena asked.

"Ben slew eight of their best fighters," Barris recalled, for those who didn't know.

"Only four were fighters. The others were unlucky," Grey said.

"Eight? By himself?" Leena asked, pressing closer.

"By himself," Barris said. "No one fought Ben after that."

"You hit Gronar with a club," Grey said. "Tak bit his ear."

"But it was you who cut Gronar's throat," Barris replied.

"Before Akeem revealed himself, Farken started a fight in the tavern. He was almost killed," Olda said.

"Almost? Akeem has grown merciful," Barris said.

"That's enough, my friend. I don't kill everyone who gets in my way," Grey complained. "Though it's something to think about."

"Were you the leader of Raven Camp?" Taba asked.

"No. I belonged to Ferret Camp, where Clagg was leader. Shalli was Clagg's sister. I've never led any of the camps."

"Ben led all of the camps," Barris said. "He came to Karak naked and starved, beaten for a season in a Contingent prison. Many thought he wouldn't live."

"And Ben proved them wrong," Sharlot said, emerging from a sturdy hut. The tall broad-shouldered woman looked healthy and alert, though worn with responsibilities. Her long dark red hair was tied back with twine.

"Greetings, leader of Raven Camp. It's good to see you," Grey said, taking her outstretched hands. "I'm sorry it took so long to return."

"It's a miracle you returned at all. Few truly thought it possible," Sharlot replied. Her voice was deep. Husky. Conapt thought her a formidable presence. "We share your grief over Shalli but celebrate your joy in her daughter."

"Shalli had many friends in Raven Camp," Grey said.

"Are we still Raven Camp? Is this not a new world?" Sharlot asked.

"That's for the people to decide," Grey replied. "All are invited to join the villages, or you may start a village of your own. There's no hurry to decide. The winter moons will be a time of learning."

"The people of Saramont are generous, and we are thankful," Sharlot said, bowing her head to Leena, Olda, and Conapt.

"Where is she?" Grey asked, finally getting to the point.

"The infirmary," Sharlot said, indicating a grass-covered burrow near the river.

Grey walked down the hill alone, passing under the thick trees that were still needed to hide from Arikhan raids.

Though the weather was cold, the sky was blue. Several sick and injured patients lay outside the burrow, catching the noon sun. Grey went down the wooden steps, finding the cave lit with strings of bright lights. Not all of the patients were from Karak. Several were locals. With knowledge of Arikhan medicine, Grey knew Black Hands would rapidly gain power in the river communities.

"Black Hands, I've come to see you," Grey announced.

Black Hands turned, startled at first, and then smiled.

"I hear and obey, Akeem," Black Hands said, her accent already betraying traces of the forest.

She removed her white robe, wearing a black wool dress underneath, and followed him up the steps into the blue day. Grey glanced back at his waiting entourage, finding them cumbersome.

"Let's sit by the water," Grey recommended, taking Black Hands by the arm. She was still trim, with very long black hair. The dark blue eyes were piercing as ever.

"Welcome back to Saramont, Akeem," she said.

"You can still call me Ben."

"That was before you became a god."

They took seats on a big rock overlooking the shoreline. There were several small fishing boats hugging the reeds on the opposite shore.

"How have you been?" Grey asked, taking a flask from his jacket pocket.

"Lafarian wine?" Black Hands said, tasting gingerly.

"It was Kanatro's favorite," Grey said, taking a sip before passing the flask back.

"This must be a special occasion."

"Very special. I'm sorry we had so little time to talk during the evacuation."

"It was a busy day," Black Hands allowed.

"Shalli and I never would have escaped that night without your help. I've always been grateful."

"I would feel better if Shalli hadn't died."

"Our baby was born in freedom. That's what Shalli wanted most. And someday, every child on this planet will be free," Grey said, his fists clenching.

Black Hands reached out, seeking to calm him.

"Mordari told me of your destiny," she said.

"You don't believe in destinies any more than I do."

"I've lived long enough to witness miracles."

"What did Mordari say?"

"She explained that you were once a hero on another world, believed killed in battle. And that after saving your own world, Sherra brought you to Akrona to save this one. She also said that I had been reborn once, and that I would be reborn again."

"I need you to be reborn again."

"In what manner?"

"While I'm commanding the army, I need someone to prepare the people for a new future. Someone who can start schools, build hospitals, plant farms, and speak for me in council."

"Will it not take many to accomplish so much?"

"I've captured an Arikhan recorder, and I'm going to find more. Garn, Leena, and Pie are in training, and more have volunteered."

"The people of Karak will follow you anywhere, but will the forest people?"

"There will be difficult days, but I'll use my power as Akeem to accomplish what's necessary. We might even find an ally or two among the masters."

"Not all of the masters are evil. Certainly not Frontra, or even Nabbatron, those last few years."

"The forest people know nothing of the masters, only the Contingent who raid their villages. They'd see every Arikhan dead if they could."

"They are not alone in that," Black Hands warned.

Grey nodded.

"There will always be bitterness. Even I'm not immune to harsh memories. But that can't matter now. It's our duty to build a new world."

"How may I serve?"

"Prepare to be born again. I need you as my First Minister. You will draw whatever resources you need and answer only to me. To defy you will be treason."

"Treason?" Black Hands said.

"I've always relied on you. Now more than ever," Grey said.

Black Hands took her friend's hand and gave him a heartfelt hug. A gesture remarked on by spectators thirty yards away.

"Have more wine," Grey offered.

* * * * * *

Chapter Nine

GHOSTS OF TARAMONT

The fortress of Taramont looked much as it had for the last two centuries. After the final battle to defend Akrona, the stone walls surrounding the base of the mountain were left battered. The bastions destroyed. But in the caves behind the rustic ruin, a thousand young soldiers were building storage rooms, barracks, kitchens and latrines. In the surrounding forest, barns were being raised under thick green canopies for horses and livestock. Fields were being plowed in the rich bottom land to the south.

"These quarters should suffice for Akeem," Raynaar said, showing Grey a series of rooms with an opening below the highest cliff. From the balcony, he could look down on the fort and the river beyond.

"The rooms are good," Grey agreed, finding space for a gathering room, kitchen, lavatories, and multiple sleeping chambers. "I'll ask Pie and Keep to move in with us."

"Will they be your mistresses?" Raynaar asked.

"No, they are family," Grey replied. "They'll care for Hope when they aren't on duty."

"Myra cares for Hope," Leena said.

"Myra is with child again. She has a growing family in Saramont to worry about," Grey explained. "The next rooms over will be for you and Taba. We'll build a nursery."

"Few are bringing families to such a place as this," Raynaar warned.

"It's only for the winter. This way I'll be able to see Hope a little more often before the campaigning season begins."

"We'll have Hope at Saramont most of the year," Ussan said, having negotiated the agreement. "She needs to be raised as a lady, not a soldier."

"She can be both," Grey said.

"Hope will be raised as a princess. She is the daughter of Akeem," Ussan insisted.

"Is the briefing room ready?" Grey asked, seeking to change the subject.

"The globe is strange," Conapt said. "The ball glows and makes bad noises."

"That device is an Arikhan recorder," Grey said. "It transmits and receives communications. Once the antenna is adjusted, I'll know every move the Contingent makes."

"In what manner can you do that?" Conapt asked.

"Let's greet our trainees," Grey recommended, leading the way down into a deep cave. It was cool and dry, the walls widened using mining tools.

Grey found Garn organizing a chamber filled with forty young men and women. Benches had been arranged in a circle so they could all see the captured Arikhan globe. The blue glassy ball was fascinating in that, regardless of where an observer sat, the screen always looked the same.

"Akeem," the recruits said, jumping to their feet.

"You may sit," Grey responded, waving his hand.

Though the standard uniforms were khaki with green trim, this new division had added red collars decorated with black suns. The colors that had once adorned Taramont's flag.

"Is Garn teaching you to mumble the hornfeet words?" Grey asked in Arikhan. A few in the room understood. Most didn't.

"Their words are hard on the throat," a young lady complained. Grey recognized her as a daughter of Riverdawn.

"Many of the words make no sense," a tall fellow with bony shoulders added. It was Traver, the son of Ussan's younger sister.

"They have words to describe tools you don't have, places you've never seen, and procedures that must be followed," Grey said. "In time, you'll know them all."

"I'm good with a spear, Akeem. I want to fight them," Traver said.

"You will be fighting them, but in a different way. You're like scouts, using the hornfeet tools. On my world, you'd be called intelligence officers. A much-respected profession."

"How do we find such things?" a stringy lass asked, one of Lopota's many nieces.

"The hornfeet maintain satellites in orbit around Akrona," Grey patiently explained.

He activated the globe, then switched functions to project a 3-D image on the wall. The recruits saw their planet with two dozen satellites circling the equator. On his own world, there would have been a thousand, but the Arikhan had never proven so enterprising.

"These are electronic messengers that relay information instantly to government officials and commanding officers in the field," Grey lectured, using a pointer. "A device such as our globe sends a signal to the orbiting satellite, and the satellite relays the signal back down to any place on the planet. The hornfeet use these satellites to plan their attacks. Now we'll use them to plan our attacks."

"Where do the hornfeet come from?" Johann's niece asked. "We know they come from the stars, as you did, but how is this brought about?"

"You ask an excellent question, Karla," Grey praised, activating a new program. "Many worlds, such as the one I came from, have learned to build spaceships. These are large vessels that allow soldiers, merchants, and explorers to move between planets. The more advanced civilizations have learned to construct stargates. These are rings of resonance energy arranged around a star, allowing a vessel to enter sub-space in one solar system, and emerge through a stargate in another solar system.

"Three thousand years ago, the Arikhan sent out sleeper ships from their homeworld, traveling vast distances. The voyages could take hundreds of years. When the sleepers arrived in a new solar system, they would erect a stargate for their fleets to enter. They conquered many planets in this manner.

"Two centuries ago, a sleeper ship reached your star, known as Laros. The Arikhan formed a stargate around the sun using energy fields, and then their warships came through the gate to occupy this planet. There are strings of stargates connecting scores of worlds, some controlled by the hornfeet, others controlled by their enemies. Some worlds are so far away, no one knows much about them."

"Did they attack your world?" Karla asked.

"Yes, and they failed," Grey responded with grim pride. "I know much of this sounds strange to you, and that's all right. You'll learn. Know that those of you in this room are crucial to defeating the hornfeet. Though you won't be firing arrows or throwing spears, you'll be using globes like this one to put an ax in the hearts of our enemies."

Grey paused, letting the gravity of his statement sink in.

"Traver, do you still wish to transfer to a ranger outfit?" Grey asked.

"No, Akeem. I would serve here," Traver answered.

"We all serve Akeem!" an ambitious youngster shouted.

Grey saluted before drawing Raynaar and Ussan out into the hall.

"What do you think?" Grey asked.

"Young people learn fast. Much faster than we can," Raynaar advised.

"Garn is a good teacher. Everybody likes him," Ussan said. "Can we really accomplish as much as you say?"

"In time," Grey answered.

* * * * * *

A few hours past dawn, the shaba'kar flew lazily over a meandering river. The long silver aircraft, powered by six jet engines, flew high enough for observation yet low enough to land quickly. A scout watched from the upper turret looking for careless food-creatures.

"There are signs," the scout reported over the intercom.

In the cockpit, the commander studied the terrain through the forward observation window, seeing trees, grass fields, and herds of animals lingering near a lake. Seven more Arikhan waited near the cargo hatch, their weapons ready. The storage bay was big enough for forty captives, if they could be found.

"The primitives are elusive of late," Commander Seratro complained, indicating for the pilot to slow the craft. "Beware how they blend into the landscape. We must not return without prey."

The busy pilot softly lashed his black tongue, splitting his attention between the trees and the flight controls.

Seratro's thick eye-rings dipped. The brown cheeks flushed darker, and the hard shell protecting his nostrils twitched. Long clawed fingers pawed the energy pistol nestled in his shoulder holster. A bronze swamp leaf on his collar indicated former service with the Arikhan fleet.

Parked on a stool before the communications array, Seratro studied his crew. With a pilot, yarbel ky, engineer, seven Varbatro, and a veteran scout, he felt more than prepared for a simple raid. Though he would rather have had an extra gunner than a useless physician.

"This river leads to a settlement," Seratro said. "We found food-creatures there last orbit on the two moons, and the orbit before that on the two moons. Now that the two moons have returned, they will see us again."

"Something moves up ahead," the pilot called.

"A running animal. There is a creature on its back," the scout said.

"Larchtro is correct. A food-creature rides one of the her'ret," Seratro said. "Drop low. Initiate pursuit."

The shaba'kar descended to fifty meters, racing to catch the fleeing rider.

"Do not use the cannon. It will destroy the meat," Larchtro warned from the turret.

"It runs for a valley. I see a trail," the pilot said.

"Intercept," Seratro ordered.

The crew grew excited, crowding at the portholes. The horseman had turned down a wide path providing little cover. The shaba'kar flew ahead, blocking the trail. The creature was dressed in green to camouflage itself but had foolishly worn a yellow hat. They saw the rider stop, watching them but not retreating.

"Prepare to disembark," Seratro said as the craft slowed to a hover.

Suddenly the shaba'kar was struck by something, the sound pinging off the hull. A second object flew up from the ground, narrowly missing. Then there was second impact, and a third, the collisions rocking the craft from side to side.

"What is that? What is happening?" Seratro demanded, gripping his stool. The forward window cracked, a boulder bouncing off with great force.

"Rise! Rise!" Commander Seratro shouted.

"I am trying. The stabilizer is damaged," the pilot responded, claws punching inputs to regain control. But the ship refused to gain altitude, gliding lower until gravity dragged it from the sky.

"Brace!" the pilot yelled, but none needed warning. All had attached safety harnesses as the shaba'kar came down in a broad meadow, sliding to a grinding halt in knee-deep grass.

"How has this happened?" Seratro asked.

"It is a trick," Larchtro said, coming down from the turret deck. "Food-creatures bent back tree branches, attached slings, and launched boulders as we passed over."

"Dashtro, issue an alert," Seratro said. "Contingent, prepare arms. We will hunt down and kill every food-creature we find."

"We may not need to go far," Larchtro answered.

All looked out the portholes to see food-creatures in the surrounding woodlands. They were dressed in khaki brown and forest green, carrying sharp sticks. Then they heard noise on the roof of their craft.

"Send the alert," Seratro urgently repeated.

"Nothing is happening," Dashtro reported, punching switches in frustration. "Communications are off-line."

"Sabotage," Larchtro guessed. "Something atop the craft is disrupting the disk."

"What should we do?" the pilot asked.

"Prepare for battle," Seratro announced. "Keep good order. We will move down to the river, then west until the Contingent Leader sends a search party."

His crew said nothing, donning armor and priming weapons. They expected grim work but knew the arrows and spears of the primitives would avail them little.

The cargo hatch slid open and they jumped out, Seratro and his varbatro going first, followed by the scout and pilot. The yarbel ky and engineer waited at the door.

"Primitives," the pilot said, pointing to movement in the trees fifty yards away.

Suddenly, a burst of red energy tore through his armor. He staggered sideways and looked up, seeing a food-creature standing on the roof of the shaba'kar armed with an energy rifle.

"Surrender," the food-creature said in Arikhan, staying back just enough not to be an easy target.

"Die," Seratro replied, swinging his sidearm around to fire.

Arrows flew from a dozen directions at once, followed by small arms fire. Not primitive arms, but Arikhan pistols, the steel balls exploding against their equipment. The soldiers returned fire, but the targets proved elusive.

"Move to the trees," Seratro ordered, just before he was hit. A pellet wound in the neck that drew blood.

The food-creature atop their craft shot the pilot again at point blank range, killing him. The remaining soldiers formed a double-square, taking fire from every side.

"Shields," Seratro ordered.

The soldiers activated their personal energy shields, the soft blue waves providing a degree of deflection. But the shields would not last long, and keeping them linked made it harder to move.

"The food-creatures flee," Dashtro said.

"No, they merely shift position," Seratro observed.

He looked back at the shaba'kar. The yarbel ky was still standing in the hatch, the fat old creature doing nothing. His worthless sparent of an engineer had disappeared.

"We must gain a place in the trees," Seratro ordered. "Step one, now. Step two, now."

The eight of them advanced, set, and advanced again, following their training. But it created openings in their defense. Dashtro was hit in the leg by a steel pellet, losing his balance. An energy blast scorched the comrade next to him. As Seratro tried to plug the hole in their defense, a steel-tipped arrow shattered his helmet. And they were only halfway to the trees.

"The commander is dead," Karitro said. "What should we do?"

"Run!" Dashtro shouted, breaking from the pack. The move was met with a hailstorm of arrows.

"Karitro, help me," a comrade begged, lying on the ground. But he was soon left alone as the formation collapsed, each survivor trying to find shelter.

The battle didn't last much longer. Heavily outnumbered, their ammunition dwindling, the Contingent soldiers fell one by one, fighting to the last. When the field finally grew quiet, the food-creatures came forward to dispatch the wounded.

One combatant was missing. The veteran scout had crawled into the tallest grass, seeking to slip away, but he did not get far. Barris tracked him to the river and drove his hunting knife through the enemy's heart.

"It was as you predicted, Akeem," Taba said, helping Grey down from the shaba'kar.

"The hornfeet like routine," Grey recalled. "We learned from the globe they'd be coming this way on the two moons. All we had to do was wait for them."

"What of these?" Leena said.

Standing in the open cargo hatch were two surviving Arikhan, neither armed. And by all appearances, very afraid.

"Kill them," Raynaar said.

"No. Not if they surrender," Grey countermanded.

Grey walked toward the shaba'kar with his pistol holstered. Both Arikhan were male, one old and portly, the other young and skinny. Their blue overalls were not Contingent uniforms.

"Who are you?" Grey asked in excellent Arikhan.

"Yassatro, once yarbel ky of An'cor," the older said after some hesitation. "My companion is Valas. He is new to this godforsaken world. Barely out of the academy."

"What academy would that be?" Grey asked. It could not be a prestigious one. Both captives had brown cheeks. Not likely to attend the better schools.

"The engineering academy at Tra' Fall," Valas timidly said.

"What brings a doctor to the badlands?" Grey asked.

"A shaba'kar crashed last year. I was sent should it happen again," Yassatro said. "The young egg was assigned maintenance should this craft falter."

"Did it falter?" Grey asked.

"Not until it was hit by rocks," Valas answered, softly lashing his tongue.

"Enough talk, Akeem. They must die," Larwin of Riverdawn said. The young huntsman drew his knife, moving forward.

"Stand down," Grey ordered.

Paying no heed, Larwin walked past Grey, grabbed Yassatro by his collar and prepared to cut his throat. But the blow was never delivered. Larwin abruptly found himself turned around. Grey stood there with ferocious gray eyes blazing.

"Am I no longer Akeem?" he growled.

And then he punched Larwin with a powerful blow, breaking his nose. He struck him a second time, and a third, covering them both in blood. The speed of the attack had everyone startled. Larwin staggered backward, lost his balance, and fell into the scrubby grass. Grey knelt next to him, drew his knife, and put the blade against Larwin's windpipe.

"Yarbel ky, I apologize for this unacceptable behavior," Grey said in Arikhan. "Say the word, and I will cut this usurper's throat."

The scene grew quiet. Over a hundred forest rangers had emerged from the trees. Many were shocked to see Larwin beaten to the ground.

"What is that they say?" Raynaar asked Leena.

"Akeem says Larwin may die for disobeying his orders," Leena explained.

"Larwin is son to my cousin. I would rather he not be slain," Raynaar said. "I wanted to kill the hornfeet, too."

"Would you have killed them after Akeem told you not to?" Leena asked.

"No, not after he said not to," Raynaar acknowledged.

"Larwin has sought to dishonor Akeem. It will not be permitted," Taba said, stepping forward.

"I stand with Akeem," Conapt said, coming to Taba's side.

"We all do," Lopota agreed, leading the Owlmont militia forward.

"Is there no way Larwin may receive mercy?" Raynaar asked.

"The decision belongs to the yarbel ky," Grey said, turning back to the physician.

All watched the strange alien, saying nothing. Yassatro read their expressions. Saw their hate. He was surprised to still be breathing.

"Do not harm the youngling on my behalf," Yassatro said in Akronian, his accent that of the slave camps.

The warriors stepped back, shocked to hear the alien creature speak their language. Grey shoved Larwin into the grass and stood up, still holding the knife.

"Servants of the Contingent, you are the prisoners of Akeem. Cause no trouble and you will not be harmed," Grey announced, looking to see if anyone disagreed.

"Larwin, I have no tolerance for anyone who disobeys orders. Now or ever," Grey continued. "On my world, you would be hanged for such a crime. And if it happens again, you will be. Am I understood? Does everyone understand?"

"I'm sorry, Akeem. Most very sorry," Larwin said.

Grey let the moment linger.

"You are suspended from arms indefinitely," Grey concluded. "You'll support the medical corps. You'll carry their supplies, empty their bedpans, and dig their latrines. In time, maybe you'll earn your way back into the army."

"Yes, Akeem," Larwin submitted.

"Is there anyone else who likes emptying bedpans?" Grey asked.

There were no takers.

With the battle over, the army came forward to see their prizes. Grey had captured a shaba'kar once before, and now he had captured another. If it could be fixed.

"There is much bounty in this craft," Raynaar reported with a grin. "Weapons, radios, scanners. A few more like this, and we'll be on equal footing with the hornfeet."

Grey tried not to laugh. "The hornfeet have twenty more craft like this," he said. "And enough equipment to fill a forest."

"This is a lot of plunder to carry," Lopota worried, making a count of the pack horses.

"Olda comes with our shaba'kar," Grey said. "We'll let her fly the equipment back."

"What of their vessel?" Taba asked.

"I'm afraid it will take a moon to repair, and we don't have that much time," Grey said. "We'll put the bodies in the storage bay and set it on fire."

"Akeem, no," Raynaar protested. "The damage is not so severe. With a few days' effort, it can be flown back to Saramont."

"I wish that, too, my friend. But it cannot be," Grey commiserated. "We must erase all evidence of our presence here or the Contingent will learn we can ambush their craft."

"You are wise in the ways of the hornfeet," Raynaar reluctantly agreed, waving to his staff.

"No. Wait," Valas said in Arikhan, stepping from the log where he was being guarded. Apparently Yassatro had been interpreting for him.

"Wait for what?" Leena asked, still learning his language.

"If you have another shaba'kar, it's capable of lifting this one," Valas explained. "There are tow chains in the cargo hold."

"What does it say?" Raynaar asked.

"He thinks our shaba'kar can be used to ferry this one," Leena said. "They would lift it off the ground with steel ropes."

"Can such a thing be done, Akeem?" Raynaar asked. "Can we carry this sky ship back to Saramont?"

Grey studied the craft again, saw the couplings, and knew it could be done. Though he had never actually seen it performed.

"Are you skilled in this procedure?" Grey asked.

"Much skilled," Valas replied, Grey translating for Raynaar.

"Let us do it. Please," Raynaar begged, looking back and forth between Grey and the alien engineer. It was a tall creature, but slender. The black eyes were more inquisitive than predatory.

"Why do you offer this assistance?" Grey inquired.

"I would rather be helpful than slain," Valas answered.

Grey had learned that most Arikhan were crafty, even friendly ones, but not all. Young Valas did not appear deceitful. His thin eye-rings gave away his thoughts.

"Raynaar, will you take this hornfeet into your charge? Be responsible for his safety?" Grey asked.

"For another shaba'kar, I'd marry him to my daughter," Raynaar replied.

"If you can make this happen before dawn tomorrow, then you may try," Grey granted. "Leena, you'll act as translator."

Raynaar burst into action, issuing orders. Valas followed in his wake.

"Yarbel ky, the brave soldiers of the Contingent need to be buried. Will you supervise?" Grey asked, waving to Conapt for a squad.

"Yes, Akeem," Yassatro agreed.

"May I ask what causes you to cooperate with food-creatures?"

"I have no love for the Contingent. My post was An'cor, where I treated my people for thirty orbits. And many slaves, for I was responsible for their health. Then Zenatro reduced all compensation. Pensions are denied. Many, such as myself, now struggle. Forced to take undesirable assignments."

"I heard that a yarbel ky from An'cor visited Karak once. Many years past. He saved the life of a food-creature named Ben."

"Karak was a horrid place, but saving the food-creature was a simple matter. Except for the internal bleeding, it was not damaged badly."

"Ben might want to thank you someday."

"I did naught but what my profession requires. What will happen to me now?"

"You will be sent to Saramont. There you will report to Black Hands for what duties she deems appropriate. If you offer your parole, you will have the freedom of the village."

Yassatro appeared stunned. Pleasantly, but stunned.

"You are generous," he said, tongue lashing in gratitude.

"See that my generosity is rewarded," Grey warned.

* * * * * *

To be continued.