Alien Chronicles 3 - The Crystal Eye (38 page)

“Where are you taking her?” Quiesl asked as Ampris was picked up and shackled. “What are you going to do to her?”

“None of your business!” the officer replied. “Sergeant, get these Myals cleared out of here at once. Check their records and make sure they get full penalties for violating the regulation against squatters.”

“Yes, sir,” came the reply.

Grunting under her weight, the two patrollers carried Ampris up the steps and outside into the dark street. The skimmers were hovering without their flashing lights. Wanting to howl in rage and fear, Ampris closed her eyes a moment. Who had betrayed them? More important, how quickly would the patrollers execute her? Israi, she reflected bitterly, would have her revenge after all.

The patrollers tossed Ampris in the hold of one of the skimmers and secured her with restraint straps. “In for questioning, sergeant?” one of the patrollers asked as he walked around to get in the driver’s seat.

“No, special orders for this one,” the sergeant replied. “She’s meat for the Bureau. Deliver her nice and fast.”

The skimmer zoomed into the air, heading down the street on a whoosh of near-silent exhaust. Ampris tried again to force herself upright, knowing that if she could move she could break the straps and throw herself out of the hold—the sides weren’t that high. And whether the fall to the street below killed her or not, at least she would be free.

But the stun held her immobile. She lay there, raging and afraid, knowing that interrogation at the hands of the Bureau of Security meant a slow and horrible death.

In the morning, the relentless heat collected beneath the shaded porticoes of the garden courtyard, and no matter how hard the slaves worked their fans, no hint of coolness reached the couch of Israi Kaa.

She reclined there, swathed in silk gauze and exquisite linen, savoring the soft, cold fruits that were her breakfast. Their delicate lavender skins were sweating with condensation. She crushed one between her teeth, letting the chilled juice squirt into her mouth. It was a delicious sensation. But the sun’s strong rays were shining on her, and her skin was starting to burn.

She looked around, gesturing for her attendants to shade her. Strong Aaroun slaves were summoned, and they picked up Israi’s couch with her on it and carried her deeper into the shade.

Without stopping their play, the musicians also moved away from the reach of the climbing sun. One of them hit a wrong note, and its discordancy irritated Israi.

She flicked her fingers together. “Remove them from our hearing.”

“At once, majesty.” Her chief attendant clapped her hands together sharply, and the musicians were hustled away.

In the sudden quiet, Israi heard the approaching
tap, tap, tap
of a staff of office. She sighed, knowing Chancellor Temondahl’s footsteps all too well.

He came up to her while she reached for another fruit, and bowed low. He looked fine this morning in a green coat of excellent cloth, embroidered with gold silk thread, and showing deep cuffs. His appearance—he was far better tailored than usual—pleased her, and so she gave him a smile.

“Chancellor,” she said in greeting.

“A fine morning, majesty,” he observed.

She raised her rill inquiringly. “You’re in a pleasant mood today, Temondahl.”

“The Imperial Mother is too kind. I bring good news.”

Israi sat up and wiped her hands on a silk towel held out for her by a slave. “The arrest is made?” she asked.

“Yes, majesty.”

Israi flicked out her tongue and laughed. “Aha! Then we have her!”

“Yes. She was handed over to the Bureau of Security at dawn.”

“Excellent,” Israi said in great satisfaction and waved at a nearby chair. “Please be seated, Temondahl. Tell us more.”

The chancellor seated himself with a smile and even accepted a plate of the chilled plumots, something he rarely did. In mutual good humor, they ate together.

When Israi learned that Ampris and her coconspirators had escaped the Archives ahead of the explosion, she’d been furious. The investigators had found no evidence of charred bones. And the scattered trail of data crystals and assorted items left behind by the Myals led straight to the crumbling old wall and down to the river.

Tracks were found there, and the whole story was easily pieced together. Then it was just a matter of time, broadcasting Ampris’s likeness on public vids and offering a generous reward. There was always a desperate abiru out there who would betray anyone for money.

“The information provided was accurate,” Temondahl said. “The patrollers were able to make a surprise arrest. No resistance was possible.”

“Excellent,” Israi said, waving away a platter of spiced candies. She had plenty of fat stored in her tail these days; she needed no more. “Take her face off the vidcasts. We want no more public mention of the traitor’s existence.”

“At once, majesty. The Bureau has taken no action as yet. They wish your majesty’s personal instructions.”

Israi flicked out her tongue. “She is to be interrogated fully, and a copy of the report will be shown to our eyes only when the work is done.”

Temondahl inclined his head. “Will your majesty wish to see the prisoner?”

“No,” Israi said curtly. “There will be no trial. She dared lay hands on the person of the Imperial Mother. The penalty for that is death.”

“And will the execution be public or private?”

“Private,” Israi snapped.

Temondahl puffed out his air sacs.

“What?” she demanded, annoyed by this sign of disagreement. “What purpose would a public execution serve?”

“It would calm the sentiments of the people,” he replied.

Israi stared at him blankly. “We fail to understand. The people have no say in this matter.”

Temondahl sighed. “It seems the public circulation of Ampris’s likeness may have been a mistake. The unrest is pronounced among the slaves.”

“Unrest?” Israi said. “Nonsense. Put an end to it.”

“Normally a simple matter, majesty,” he said. “But there are problems.”

Displeased, she drew back from him. “More problems? And so early in the day?”

“Increasingly large numbers of abiru are coming to the city gates,” he said. “We believe the drought is forcing them here. Reports from the rural areas indicate that more and more landowners are releasing their slaves rather than feed them. Or they simply abandon the creatures, leaving them chained in their quarters. If they get free, they come here to Vir.”

“Why?” she asked without much interest. “Drive them away.”

“They have some resentment toward the Rejects, majesty. The Rejects receive charity—”

“Of course,” she said impatiently. “It is the moral obligation of the Viis population to take care of the unseen ones.”

“But the abiru want food also, majesty.”

“The slaves?” she asked. “Demanding food from us? How dare they!”

“Hunger is driving them to desperation. The patrollers assigned to the city walls report they have never seen slaves so disorderly or disobedient.”

“Deal with them,” Israi commanded. “Have our prisoner executed and the rebellion squashed at once. Do not allow it to linger, or it
will
become a problem.”

“Majesty, I don’t think any solution to this will be quick or simple. The city’s food reserves are growing low. We cannot spare anything for these hungry slaves.”

“Of course not. Send out the army. Have them round up any abiru slaves gathered unlawfully outside the gates and deport them.” She gestured, making the jeweled bracelets on her arms clink together. “Go farther. Any abiru dissident in the city, anyone known to be linked with Ampris or this resistance movement of hers, is to be arrested and deported. We want these troublemakers out of our city.”

Temondahl inclined his head. “And where shall the army take them?”

She flicked out her tongue. “Anywhere. Someplace private and remote, where they can be shot and disposed of without causing more unrest.”

“Ah. Now I understand the Imperial Mother perfectly.” Temondahl sat quietly for several moments, until Israi glanced at him sharply, wondering if he was going to protest her command. Finally he roused himself and lifted his head. “There are some labor camps on the other side of the planet, unused at present, now that so many building projects have been, er, postponed.”

She smiled. “They would make ideal locations to execute prisoners, discreetly and efficiently.”

“Yes, majesty.”

“Yes. We will solve this problem of not having enough food to give the abiru.” Israi reached out and popped a spiced candy into her mouth after all. “They cannot eat if they are dead.”

Ampris was dragged into her cell and dropped on the floor. Panting hard, and trying to stifle a moan of pain, she lay there on the damp stones until the worst of the agony eased off. Screaming nerve endings finally calmed down. Spasmed muscles stopped cramping so tightly. She tried sitting up.

She failed the first time, rested a long while, moaning against the floor, and tried again. This time she made it and propped her shoulders wearily against the edge of her bunk slab. Not even a blanket softened its hard surface, and someone had died on it in the past—she could still smell the lingering scent of the fluids that had leaked from her predecessor.

Closing her eyes, she clutched her Eye of Clarity in her right hand and sank deep inside herself. It was the only way to escape the pain of her broken ribs and wrist. She thought something might be broken in one of her legs too, but she could not be sure. Yesterday they had clipped electrodes to her crippled leg and burned the ligaments that were still intact.

In that unbelievable agony, she would have screamed out the answers to anything they wanted, but her silent tormenters asked no questions. She wondered when the real interrogation would come.

A little shudder passed through her, and she felt her spirits crumble. She’d lost track of how many days she’d been in this place. Days and nights were lost in the gloom of her unlit cell. There were only times of agonizing pain and times of rest. Sometimes she heard other prisoners screaming. The one in the cell next to hers had coughed up blood for an hour, making terrible strangling noises. She thought he must be dead now, for no more sounds had come from his cell. No one had checked on him yet.

From down the corridor, she heard some of the patrollers laughing. A vidcast came on. They played it loud, as they always did, no doubt knowing that news of the outside world brought its own brand of torment to the minds of their prisoners.

And then she heard Israi’s voice, prim and official, making a statement:

“Because of the terrible drought conditions, many abiru workers have been abandoned by their owners to starve. We hear the cries for help from these unfortunates, and we are taking steps to give them assistance.”

Intrigued by this unusual sign of mercy, Ampris turned her head and listened harder.

“Rather than strain the resources of Vir unduly, we have ordered these abiru to be dispersed by transport to all the major cities of Viisymel. There is plenty of food for everyone. The people have the pledge of the Imperial Mother that no one will starve.”

The announcement ended, and Ampris sighed. Perhaps, she thought, rubbing the smooth surface of her Eye of Clarity with her fingers, perhaps Israi was mellowing. Perhaps something Ampris had said to her that night in the Archives had gotten through. Israi was capable of great generosity when she chose. Surely this was a sign that things might yet improve.

Laughter erupted among the patrollers again, drowning out the rest of the vidcast. “No one will starve,” someone said in a very good imitation of Israi’s voice.

The others hooted and clapped their hands. “Can’t starve if you’re dead,” someone else said.

“Welcome to your new city—Death Camp Central.”

Listening to those callous Viis voices, Ampris felt herself growing cold to the bone. Israi had lied. The abiru would be going to extermination camps, not other Viis cities.

Ampris bared her teeth, wishing she could sink them into Israi’s throat. Was there no end to the atrocities? Was there not a single Viis with a conscience?

Then another, even more, horrifying thought occurred to her. Harthril had told her he would bring the group to Vir if she did not return. No doubt by now they were out there at the city gates, trying to gain admittance. The patrollers would be rounding up her friends, her sons, for death.

A feeble roar came from her jaws, ending in a racking cough that made her wince and clutch her side. She wanted to jump to her feet and rattle the door to her cell. She wanted to roar and scream and fight.

But she had no strength to do any of those things. She had only the pain and her own horror.

What a fool she had been to ever think there could be a peaceful solution to the abiru enslavement.

How naive she was still—after all these years, after all she’d gone through—to hope that any Viis would remember the meaning of honor and decency.

Ampris lifted her Eye of Clarity and pressed it against her muzzle. She closed her eyes.

“I vow,” she whispered to it, “that from now on, it is war. Give my people strength to fight on. Give them hearts of defiance.”

The stone’s smooth surface grew warm against her fur. Surprised, Ampris lifted her head and looked at it glowing strangely on her palm, as though with a life of its own.

There had been times in the past when she thought she saw a spark of fire in its depths, but those instances had always been too brief for her to be sure. Now, however, the stone glowed with an eerie, lambent light that spread across her hand and dimly illuminated her cell. Ampris held her breath, unable to tear her gaze away. In that moment she forgot everything except the power radiating from this mysterious stone. Something, some kind of force that felt gentle and pure, crawled up her arm. She tried to hold herself still, tried to reach out to whatever was extending itself to her. She could almost feel herself falling into the center of that light, so white, so soft, so comforting.

Then someone in the distance screamed a piercing death cry. Startled, Ampris jumped. A fresh stab of pain pierced her side, and the light vanished as though it had never been.