Alien Chronicles 3 - The Crystal Eye (2 page)

A Toth guard strolled by, swinging his stun-stick and looking bored. Flies swarmed his matted, dark brown hair and collected at the corner of his right eye, which looked diseased. The Toth rubbed his face, grumbling to himself, and glanced up at Elrabin just as the Kelth raked another prime grain head out of the chute.

Ampris gripped her basket in alarm, her heart thudding in her chest. Just like that, they were caught. Her risky plan was over, and they were done for. She panted harder, tensing her muscles to spring to Elrabin’s aid.

But Elrabin never hesitated. “I’ll get it!” he shouted over the screeching clank of the machinery. He jumped down off his platform and rooted around on the ground in the tall, scraggly weeds before bouncing upright again with the grain head clutched aloft in his hand. “Got it!” he announced, while the Toth glared at him suspiciously.

The Toth flipped his drooping ears back and forth and slid his thick tongue up into first one nostril, then the other. He said nothing while Elrabin climbed onto his platform and tossed the grain head back in.

Elrabin yipped nervously and grinned. “Made a mistake,” he said to the guard. “Thought it had blight spots on it, but it’s just a little dirt.”

The guard’s small, stupid eyes stared at Elrabin for another moment, then he walked on without a word.

Ampris let out her breath in a long sigh, drained with relief. Up on his platform, Elrabin looked at the Toth’s departing back and let his narrow jaws part in a grin before scooping out two plump grain heads and dropping them out of sight.

Ampris grinned to herself and ducked her head lower.

The slave behind her prodded her in the back to make her move forward. She hoisted her heavy basket up with a grunt to workers who dumped its contents into the main sorting bin and handed her empty basket back to her.

Ampris glanced around to make sure no other guards were close by and circled around the base of the machinery to where Elrabin’s small basket stood concealed in the weeds.

It was nearly full of stolen grain. She poured it into her own basket. The basin holding the rejected produce was half-full of black slime, with blighted grain heads floating on top. The sickly sweet stench of rotting grain nearly overpowered her sensitive nostrils.

Trying to breathe as little as possible, Ampris gathered a few of the blighted heads and put them on top of her stolen ones. The slaves were allowed to gather all the rejected grain they wanted for their own consumption. The fact that the blight usually rendered the grain poisonous seemed of no consequence to the Viis landowners.

She hoisted up her basket with a grunt and balanced it on her hip before glancing up at Elrabin, who stood on the machinery platform looking the other way. She pinched the back of his heel.

He threw another blighted head into the garbage with a splat. Ampris dodged to one side and whispered, “I’ll cut one more row.”

Elrabin raked out another deformed head and twisted around to drop it. As he did so, he shot her a warning look and muttered, “Got enough, Goldie. Don’t get greedy.”

“We need another basket,” she insisted.

He backed his ears. “Ain’t worth the risk—”

“One more,” she said and walked away with her laden basket.

He snarled behind her, but Ampris limped over to a rusting shed that housed the irrigation well pump and circled around behind it. No one seemed to be looking.

At the rear of the shed was a low, slanted lean-to attachment of polyfibe boards that were brittle and decaying from age and no maintenance. One of the boards was hinged to allow access to the interior, and the lean-to had probably been designed to hold tools for servicing the irrigation pump. It was now empty, except for Ampris’s hoard of stolen food.

Kneeling, she pried open the hinged board and swiftly dumped in the contents of her basket. The space beneath the little lean-to was almost full, and as she lowered the board back in place Ampris’s sense of satisfaction faded momentarily.

Maybe Elrabin was right, she thought. Maybe they should thank their good luck at what they’d gotten so far and get out of here while they could.

But then she thought of the hungry mouths back in their little camp up in the foothills rising above the east side of this dusty field. She thought of how she’d hunted all day yesterday and brought in no game. Neither had anyone else. The long summer drought had driven them here into the semi-arid Seren region, but they had not fared well in the move. Last month they had lost Morlol, a big Aaroun male who was their best provider, in a hunting accident. Elrabin worked hard to bring in food, but while he might be quick, clever, and streetwise, even twelve years of living off the land had not managed to make a good hunter of him. Paket, one of the Kelths who had escaped with her from the Vess Vaas Laboratory years ago. was getting old and stiff. Robuhl, a Myal, was so ancient his mane had turned white. Blind and senile, he had to be watched constantly so that he didn’t wander away from camp and get lost. Tantha was pregnant and still grieving for her dead mate Morlol. Normally she would be as strong and tireless as Ampris, but she was near her birthing time and needed to stay as inactive as possible. Velia was a timid Kelth female, mate to Elrabin. Long abused before she gained her freedom from her Viis masters, she would not leave the camp by herself and usually took on the main domestic tasks of cooking, mending, and watching over Robuhl. The two Viis Rejects. Luax and Harthril, could hunt successfully if there was any game to find, but they did not always bring home enough to feed the entire camp and tended to take care of their own dietary needs first. Ampris’s cubs, Foloth and Nashmarl. had begun to shoot up in growth. They were nearly as tall as Elrabin now, and constantly, voraciously hungry.

No, Ampris decided, thinking of the many responsibilities resting on her shoulders; she could not take the safe course and steal only enough for them to eat one or two meals. Ampris was determined to take enough to supply their needs for several days. She wanted to dry the grain and pound it into flour. They needed to move on from this region, perhaps venture closer to Vir by the end of summer. With old ones and cubs soon to be born. they would need a warm, fairly gentle climate for the winter months. Relocating was hard work, involving difficult travel on foot and the need to scout ahead to make sure they ran into no trouble or encountered no settlements where their presence might be reported to the authorities. Hunting would be harder than ever. Therefore, she needed to get as much food as she could today before the work ended.

At night the uncut harvest was guarded with electronic sensors that protected it from theft. Her only chance was to cut the produce boldly today, in full sight of the guards.

Once cut, the grain heads would keep for three days before they began to rot. This field would be harvested by the end of today or early tomorrow. As soon as it was cleared, a mechanics crew would come to cap off the well and remove the pump starter. Thus locked down, the field and well would be abandoned until next season’s planting time. No longer would the security nets be activated. It would be a simple matter for Ampris to come back under cover of darkness and collect her cache of food.

Ampris had not been born a thief, but she had learned to do whatever was necessary to survive.

Rising to her feet, she clipped her empty basket to her belt and unsheathed her slicer. As she limped back into the field, heading for an uncut row of the waist-high stelf, she saw a skimmer approaching at such speed the driver’s clothing billowed out behind him.

He circled the field once, then twice, the metal sides of the skimmer flashing in the sun. A static-filled loudspeaker blared:

“Everyone, work faster! Faster! This field must be cleared by midday.”

Holding her slicer in her hand, Ampris stood gawking at the skimmer, which was driven by an obese Gorlican. He must be the overseer, she thought, but why was he in such a hurry? She looked at the amount of grain yet to be cut. There was a full day’s work ahead of them. They couldn’t possibly finish in a couple of hours.

The overseer flew his skimmer to the sorting bins, where he gestured at Elrabin and the other workers. “Stop sorting!” the Gorlican shouted. “Dump everything into the holds. Faster! There is little time.”

Ampris watched Elrabin move to shut off the noisy machinery, and for an instant quiet settled over the field. The slaves were still staring in disbelief.

Then a whip cracked across Ampris’s shoulders without warning. The pain knocked her to her knees, and she cried out before she could stop herself.

A Toth guard towered over her. “Work,” he said, his small brutal eyes holding no mercy. He whipped her again before she had a chance to regain her feet. “Work fast. Bantet has ordered it.”

Ampris scrambled upright, clutching her basket and slicer. Her hat had fallen askew over one eye, and she tipped it back. The pain across the back of her shoulders burned like fire, and she could hear her own breath keening raggedly in the back of her throat. Realizing it, she forced herself to stop making the sound.

She straightened, remembering long-ago days when pain and whippings had been commonplace. Across the field, other slaves were being whipped back to work. Ampris knew it was time to get out of here, but the guard was still glaring at her. She got busy.

The stelf plants were bushy, with coarse, jagged gray-green leaves that rustled dryly in the hot, steady wind. Each plant produced several thick stalks, and on the tip of each stalk grew a single, globular head. When dried and processed, stelf produced the flour that made Quixlix, the staple food of the empire. Quixlix could be flavored to taste like anything, even meat. It was fed to the abiru population and consumed by the middle-class Viis population as well. Colony worlds grew the more exotic hybrid strains preferred by the Viis aristocracy, but the semibarren, depleted soil on Viisymel itself would grow only the original varieties, which were weak and susceptible to blight.

Scorn filled Ampris as she thought about how the Viis had practically ruined and poisoned their own planet during the past century. They were users, depleters. They had no concept of conservation. They used a resource until it was gone, then they went out and conquered another world and took all that it had. They wasted so much and created lack where there could have been plenty.

Another whipcrack sounded, making Ampris flinch. Annoyed at herself, she steeled her nerves. If the overseer wanted speed, she would show him speed.

Humming softly to herself. Ampris gripped a grain head and swung her slicer expertly and cleanly. It had been a long time since she’d done blade work. Remembering her days in the arena, when she’d been gladiator champion and famous across the empire, Ampris imagined herself back in training, honing and perfecting her swings and thrusts. She’d been a master of the glaudoon, the glevritar, and the parvalleh. All the ancient weapons of war.

But today, she was just a thief, wielding a slicer in need of sharpening. She cut the heads efficiently, dropping them into her basket as she went, and harvested a row of stelf twice as fast as any of the other workers.

By the time she reached the end of the row, her basket was heavy and heaped high. She wiped her face beneath her hat brim and started toward the bins, but a Toth blocked her way.

He thrust an empty basket at her. “Leave that. Cut.”

Ampris took the basket hesitantly. If she could get to the sorting bins, she had a good chance to slip away. With the guard right on her, however, she had little choice but to turn and start cutting another row.

When she finished, another guard intercepted her with an empty basket. “Cut,” she was told.

Panting and tired now, Ampris continued to work. But inside she felt a growing sense of desperation. The workers were still being harried constantly. Anyone who flagged was beaten.

The overseer’s skimmer hovered here and there at various points around the field. The sorting bins had been disassembled and loaded. As soon as they were filled, the big transports lumbered away. Ampris could not understand this sudden urgency. She knew that if the blighted heads weren’t separated from the good ones, the whole harvest would be contaminated. What was going on?

Never mind,
said a voice inside her head.
Get out of here as soon as you can.

She panted, dry for water, but she carried no water skin because none of the slaves were allowed them. Anyone who paused for any reason was whipped, and Ampris went on cutting despite the burning ache of fatigue now spreading through her arms and shoulders. Her crippled leg was tiring too. Soon it would begin to hurt.

Two rows over, a female Kelth emitted a soft moan and dropped in her tracks.

Concerned, Ampris put down her basket and hurried to help.

The Kelth lay on the hard-baked ground, not moving. Ampris knelt beside her and lifted her head, feeling for a pulse in the fur at her throat. She found it, far too fast and thready. The Kelth’s nose was hot and dry . Her eyes were rolled back in their sockets, and her tongue hung slackly out one side of her mouth.

Unable to rouse her, Ampris took off her hat and fanned the Kelth with it. The heat was still increasing. Ampris felt like she was being roasted inside an oven. She could see heat waves shimmering atop the stelf. and even the steadily blowing wind was hot, bringing no relief at all.

A shadow loomed over Ampris. She squinted up at the guard and said quickly, “This female is ill. She needs water or she will die.”

Without a word the guard unclipped the water bottle at his waist and poured its contents over the Kelth’s face and head. She moaned, half-rousing, and feebly tried to lick some of the moisture.

“To drink,” Ampris said angrily. “Give her some of it to drink.”

The Toth replaced the bottle on his belt. “Go to work.”

Ampris rose to her feet and glared at him. “Dead slaves can’t cut anything. Give her water and some rest in the shade, and she’ll be able to resume work in a short while.”

The guard pointed at the row she’d left. “Go to work.”

“Not until you give her water to drink,” Ampris said.