THE MYRMIDONS
The people looked like ants. Inside the vast cylinder, in the sky above and landscape below, was a huge camp of huts and shelters, cultivated fields and stockades, where prisoners from all over the solar system had been transported and processed and simply dumped to fend for themselves, organize or struggle, live or die. Through the solars they could see the impenetrable clouds of Venus, the myriad stars, and the blazing sun, so much brighter than it appeared from Mars. Aaron and Li, newly emerged from the darkened cells of the Poseidon Earthshaker, blinked and turned their faces away. The guards removed their cuffs and shackles, and they lined up to be lowered to the floor below.
Aaron was searching the crowd for Martians, as they would most likely be welcomed and accepted among them and would not have to fight for a place.
“Look,” he said, and Li followed his point. One encampment seemed to be the kind that Martian mining people would build, with earthworks surrounding large communal structures and children playing in the open, clean spaces between, as opposed to feudal walls and wooden stockades and barbed wire surrounding towers and barracks and slum encampments. It was as if some Time Lord had picked up towns and villages from throughout Earth history and strewn them across a landscape of refugee camps and displacement centres.
They climbed into a great basket and were lowered by a huge crane to the surface below. Gradually the ants became human beings in the rags of prison uniforms. Crowds gathered to watch their descent, looking for nubile women and men with strong backs, or fighters, or even mechanics and technicians. Li pointed to a small group, having noticed a half dozen prisoners a head taller than the others, as Martians tended to be. Both Aaron and Li attracted immediate attention, as they were clearly warriors. Someone shouted.
“Aaron Ben David!”
It was a man of Arab extraction, dark and bearded like Aaron. His age was hard to determine; his body seemed young and powerful, but his face was old, beaten and scarred by a hard life. He wore a patch, which gave him a piratical look, and when he smiled, his face lit up with a brilliant smile. He pushed his way through the crowd and put out his hand.
“You’re Aaron Ben David of the Ancilius Group,” he said. “I’m Malik.”
“Salim Malik?” Li asked, in astonishment. “I thought you were dead.”
Malik chuckled and waved his hand at the ruins that surrounded him. “Close enough, My Dear. I suppose my reputation precedes me.”
“Progeny’s cellmate during his First Incarceration. You escaped with him and helped create the Rebellion. When you were re-captured, Solla kept him on Mars, and you were sent here. I was always told you died on the surface.”
“That’s nearly true. In fact, I survived two stretches down there, and eventually learned to keep my temper, so here I’ve been ever since. But you, Aaron Ben David, as I understand it, broke Progeny out of prison again a few years later, did you not?”
“I was a mercenary hired by the Ancilius Group to stage a breakout. Then I joined the Group. How did you recognize me?”
“Artists have painted your likeness. And the High Companies have put your handsome puss on many a poster. I guess you two would be looking for a Martian home.”
“It seems the most likely way for us to survive. This is Chi-Chi Li of the MLF.”
Malik, to her astonishment, kissed her hand. “I’ve heard about you too. Wog and Gay will be happy to find you two.”
“Wog and Gay?” Aaron’s expression darkened. “The crew of the Fancy Dancer? They’re turncoats. They betrayed Progeny to the Quasi Police.”
“We’ve forgiven them. Maybe they’re hated on Mars, but not here. They were under duress, hardly knew who Progeny was at that point, and the Quasi threatened to erase their ship. If you know any Free Traders…”
“All right. I can see why old grudges might die quickly here. We’re all in the same can, aren’t we?”
“We’re just trying to survive and keep our souls intact. May I escort you to Camp Mars?”
They followed him out of the crowd and across the broken landscape to the earthworks surrounding Camp Mars. The guards opened the village gate for Malik and his companions. He brought them to the main building, where the dining hall had been set up for a meeting with all the chairs along the walls and an open area in the centre. It reminded Aaron of a Quaker meeting house. People had been gathering for a while, and Aaron and Li sat down with Malik, who seemed to be in charge of the meeting. Malik, Aaron supposed, as a friend of Progeny, was an elder statesman of some kind.
First, there was a benediction of sorts. A white-haired man moved to the centre of the room and the crowd fell silent, except that Malik whispered to Li and Aaron, “This is the Reverend James, a Lennonite minister. He turned up one day and we kept him, for the poetry.” The man spoke:
“John said: God is a concept by which we measure our pain. And in his Commentary, Paul wrote: When I find myself in times of trouble, Mother Mary comes to me, speaking words of wisdom: Let it be. And in my hour of darkness, she is standing there in front of me, speaking words of wisdom: Let it be. When all the broken-hearted people living in the world agree, there will be an answer: Let it be.”
He sat down and there was a smattering of amens in the crowd. Malik stood up and went to the centre of the room. “First some news,” he said. “The rumours appear to be confirmed. Terry has been arrested.”
There was a collective gasp, part of it from Aaron and Li.
“She is being held at the Pavonis Spaceport. No-one has been allowed to see her as of yet. Many people, including Jay, are trying to get access.”
Aaron and Li looked at each other in shock.
“Also, it seems that the freetrader Atalanta is missing. There is no word concerning the whereabouts of Karil and Loris.”
He paused to let that sink in. “Now for business. Today I have found two pilgrims looking for a home. It may be that they can shed some light on this situation, since they left Mars only recently. I wish to introduce Chi-Chi Li of the Martian Liberation Front and Aaron Ben David of the Ancilius Group. They are asking us for shelter.”
“Welcome, Li. Welcome Aaron,” the crowd said. Aaron pushed Li forward and she went to the middle of the room. “I can’t shed much light, since I just heard of this myself. But I might be able to put it in some kind of context. There’s no danger now in telling you this, but about a month ago, I went to Ganymede in secret to meet with Terry and Loris. We knew it was risky, but it was neutral territory and we had important matters to discuss. I can’t tell you more about that. But when Aaron and I left, we went to a safe house in the Belt. Despite all our precautions, the Poseidon Earthshaker appeared, and Admiral Darius of the High Company Fleet arrested us. So here we are. Aaron?”
Ben David rose and joined her. “All I can add is that this was obviously a high-profile operation for them. Despite the best efforts of Galilean Security, it appears the Quasi-Police were observing us on Ganymede. Admiral Darius as much as said so, but I still have the feeling that he didn’t know what the meeting was about. It’s possible they had no audio. It appears that all of us were taken at once. I’m particularly worried about Karil and Loris, and especially Atalanta, for reasons of security, but the fact that they are incommunicado does not necessarily mean they are compromised or destroyed. If threatened, they would immediately have gone into hiding and we would know nothing.”
“I have information as well,” said a voice. An elderly gentleman stood up in the back of the room, leaning on a cane. “My contacts in the prison bureaucracy have told me something that may be relevant.”
“This is Professor Daedalus,” Malik whispered to Aaron and Li. “He used to work here until he got himself on the High Companies’ bad side. One or two of the guards chat with him now and then. Professor, what have you heard?”
“Karil’s father, the Sultan of High Africa, is dead.” A murmur of surprise swept the room. “According to the High Companies, he was assassinated by Karil. They are looking for him. And this took place more recently than Terry’s arrest. So, Karil and quite possibly both Loris and Atalanta may still be out there. The Galilean has said nothing, but of course their story is that the people concerned are just smugglers and they are not responsible. Etc. Etc.”
“Thank you, Professor. What do you say, my friends? Do we accept Aaron and Li as brother and sister?”
It was unanimous. The two newcomers were smothered with kisses and handshakes as the chairs were moved, the tables put in place, and a feast brought out, including wine. Aaron looked at Malik.
“We make wine here,” Malik said. “Very good for our trade balance. I don’t partake myself.”
“Karil is not so squeamish.”
“I’ve heard,” Malik laughed, “He’s an apostate and an unbeliever and a libertine. But for me, it’s not so much for religious reasons as how I tend to lose control and end up in the Hellhole when I drink. I’m not going there again.” He looked at the jolly feast around him. “I like it here. Damned if I don’t think of myself as a Progenist.”
“You were one of the founding fathers.”
Malik laughed. “Proj and I fought all the time.”
“He must have loved it,” Aaron said.
A room had been prepared for Aaron and Li, and they collapsed into bed, exhausted from days of worry more enervating than battle, and the relief of knowing that whatever came in this place, there were those who had their back. In the morning, Aaron was pleased to find that Li was all over him.
The giggling girls in the kitchen seemed to know and gave them coffee with arch smiles. They went out on a convenient roof-terrace and watched the opening of the panels in the sky that served as sunrise. It would have been beautiful had this not been a place of evil and suffering, crowded and noisy and tense.
They heard footsteps behind them and turned to see Wog and Gay coming up the stairs behind them. Wog was tall and open-faced, with long sandy hair, and Gay was lush and coquettish, with deep brown eyes and a tousled brunette mane. Aaron had to control his instant anger. Their actions had led to Progeny being arrested, but the fact was, it also led to his creating the whole Martian Communal Movement. Looking at their smiling faces now, it was hard to stay angry.
The couple greeted the newcomers with warm embraces, Gay crushing them both to her bosomy body and Wog grinning with a proprietary air. “We were out drumming up business and didn’t know you were here till this morning. Like your coffee? It’s our best seller, next to the wine.”
“Typical Martians,” Aaron said. The four of them were bonding like old warbuddies.
Wog pointed to a spot on the end-cap. “Up there is Spacedock,” he said, “and the hangars. Fancy Dancer is there.”
“Really? After all this time?”
“We shut her down when we were captured. They towed her here, thinking they could make us open up her secrets. But there were no secrets, really. We were just smugglers and mercenaries, not privy to Martian plots or part of Galilean Security like Atalanta. But we resisted opening her up, knowing that as long as they thought there was a chance to gain intel they could use, they would not erase her memory. Now the bureaucrats have forgotten her, and she still sits there, waiting for a word from me to be spaceworthy again.”
“Planning an escape, are we?” It was Professor Daedalus, climbing the stairs unsteadily with his cane. Li and Gay ran to help him.
“No, no,” Aaron said. “Just watching the sunrise. They say the place is inescapable and I believe it, looking at that.”
The Professor joined them on the parapet. “Well, that’s not strictly true,” he said, as his eyes roved over the landscape with an enigmatic smile and a twinkling of the eyes. “I should know. I built it.”
“Really?”
“Well, I designed it. The High Companies built it. I designed High Europe too, and Mars Colony, and then I collaborated with Professor Kelley on Nova Terra at Titan. That was a great challenge. So little sunlight out there. Still, we had some brilliant minds at work on it and I think it was my greatest triumph. Unfortunately, Professor Kelley supports the Galilean and is considered an enemy of the High Companies, so I ended up here, with my whole family.”
“It takes a particular kind of stupid to lock up somebody in a security system he designed,” Li snorted.
The Professor grinned. “One bunch of bureaucrats finds you guilty when you did nothing, and another puts you away in a place you can get out of. The only reason the High Companies continue to dominate the solar system is that they’re so rich. God knows it’s not their smarts.”
“Are you not tempted to get out of here?” Aaron asked with a penetrating look.
“I’m too old to make it to the endcap through the ant-hill maze that would have to be negotiated. I don’t have a ship I can command, and it would he difficult to steal one, with the paranoid Quasi-built encryptions on their controls. If I were discovered, I would have to fight, and I don’t have those skills. I’d be killed in short order.”
He paused, studying the wall of windows and ledges in the distance. “Still, if someone were young and had military training, and were properly motivated to escape, and had quick access to a fast ship, I might be persuaded to give them the benefit of my knowledge, providing they agreed to take my children with them.”
***
Aaron and Li, Wog and Gay, Professor Daedalus and Malik met in the back of a classroom while Reverend James was teaching youngsters the sayings of John. If the place was bugged after the arrival of new prisoners, which sometimes happened, and their routine sweeps had not discovered the bugs, their whispered conversation would likely be drowned out by the higher pitched sounds of children’s voices. Professor Daedalus had long ago drawn the plans of the colony from memory and this they rolled out on the worktable. Actually, there was little to say in words, because most of the study was visual. But Aaron found it difficult to pay attention, as he was distracted by Reverend James’s lovely speaking voice:
“What do John and his disciples say about love?” he asked.
One girl quickly raised her hand. “All you need is love,” she said proudly.
A boy scoffed. “That’s too easy.”
“Well, that’s what most people remember,” the Reverend said. “But it’s probably the simplest and most profound of his words on the subject. What else?”
“Love is needing to be loved.”
“Yes, what else?”
“Love is a flower. You’ve got to let it grow.”
“That’s a good one, what else?”
No-one came up with another. “Well,” said the Reverend, “how about this? There are places I remember all my life, though some have changed—some forever, not for better. Some have gone and some remain. All these places have their moments, with lovers and friends I still can recall. Some are dead and some are living. In my life, I’ve loved them all.”
The children knew that one. Aaron dragged his attention away and pored over the plans.
“Say the word and you’ll be free,” the Reverend went on. “Say the word and be like me. Say the word I’m thinking of. Have you heard the word is Love? It’s so fine, it’s sunshine. It’s the word Love.”
Professor Daedalus pointed out the hangar-deck, where Fancy Dancer was located. The way there, Aaron thought, was a long and winding road, and he wondered how to shepherd a group of people through the tunnels without running into working staff. And he wondered just how many people they could take, and who would be left behind.
“Yet you may see the meaning of within. It is being. It is being. Love is all and love is everyone.”
Afterwards, the Professor sought Aaron out and invited him to dinner in his family’s quarters. Aaron accepted, as he had more questions. When he arrived and was ushered in, he noticed the Menorah and suddenly remembered it was Hannukah. “I’ve been so busy fighting and killing,” he said, “that I’ve completely forgotten about the Day of Peace.”
Later, Aaron met with Professor Daedalus’s family to get their opinion of the plan. “The Professor has shown me the plans of the colony and the route we might take to attempt an escape. Wog and Gay have agreed to go with us, so we can use their ship. It’s a very dangerous undertaking, but Li and I are willing to attempt it because we desperately need to return to Mars and help Terry escape from Quasi-Police custody. And Malik is coming as well. The five of us are trained fighters and have a decent chance of making it, but the big question is: Who else can or should we bring?”
“I gave them this information,” the Professor said to his children, “on the condition that they include members of my family if they want to go. I will not be going, and your mother is going to stay with me.” He took her hand. “But you three have your whole life ahead of you. The question is: Do you want to take the risk? Being caught attempting to escape might well be punished by death or transportation to the Hole, and you might believe that life up here, though not free, may be tolerable.
“I’m sure many of the older Martians might wish to remain and many of the younger might wish to stay with their parents. Aaron points out that individuals who can fight would be best, and they are willing to train them in basic combat, so they can pull their weight in what is basically a military action. The larger the group, the more likely they are to attract attention, so numbers should be limited for that reason, but there are a good number of us who have already fought on Mars. We think the only course of action is a free vote.”
In the end, the oldest boy Orrin, who was married and had children, elected to stay. Eleanor, the youngest, did not want to leave her mother. But Genia, who had always been a tomboy adventurer of the first water, found the prospect of a prison-break and being welcomed by the Martian Rebellion irresistible. She already had a target set up in the courtyard and had fashioned a bow and arrows. The authorities, armed with laser-weapons and grenades, ignored it as nothing more than sport. The courtyard was easily overlooked by spotters from the endcap, but there had never been any attempt to stop the activity. With the help of Chi-Chi Li, Genia would proceed to fashion crossbows and set up target practice indoors. Part of the plan was a raid on the weapons locker at the spaceport, and Li felt that skill with a crossbow could lead to skill with a laser-rifle. Genia latched onto Li and followed her everywhere. The Professor seemed disappointed that only one of his children took advantage of his plan, but he accepted it.
The same debate took place among the Martians in general and the end was much the same. Many of the Martian prisoners here had never been active in the Rebellion but were caught up in Quasi raids and accused of aiding and abetting. There were those who chaffed at this and wanted revenge upon the High Companies, but many, by dint of hard work and organization, had built a home in the prison colony. Life was hard, but it was hard on Mars too. Here at least, it was warm, and you could breathe. The fact is: some thought they were lucky.
Malik was disappointed, but Aaron was happy to keep the numbers down to a few chosen warriors. He found he could encourage some and discourage others by warning of the same dangers and hardships. In the end, there were three squads—Aaron’s Myrmidons, Li’s Amazons, and Malik’s Spartans. Aaron pointed out that the Amazons had fought against the other two in the Trojan War, but Li insisted on the name.
***
While the training was going on, the digging began. The floor of the storeroom was torn up to reveal the packed soil beneath, and then a hole was dug to the steel plating beneath. Professor Daedalus showed the team how to unfasten the rivets and remove a plate. The access tunnel beneath stretched into silence and darkness.
Then, after the descent to the tunnels, the pit would be filled in and the floor replaced as if it had never been disturbed. There would be no returning. If they could not get to Fancy Dancer and escape into space, they would either die or be captured and probably end up on the hellhole surface of Venus.
***
When the day came, the team stood checking their chemical lamps and low-tech weapons, with the route firmly etched in their memory, while the Reverend James blessed them, in his way.
“Always,” he said, “John was on the side of those who struggle against power and tyranny. He said: Why in the world are we here? Surely not to live in pain and fear. We shine on like the moon and the sky and the sun. And Paul said: Big and black the clouds may be, time will pass away. If you put your trust in me, I’ll make bright your day. Look into these eyes now, tell me what you see. My friends, may John and Paul go with you in all the dark places.”
“All right,” said Malik, “let’s get this magical mystery tour on the road.”
They climbed down into the darkness.
The great cylindrical structure of the colony, despite existing in free-fall, required huge structural ribs to keep it from flexing during its pseudo-gravitational spin, the stresses created by the opening and closing of the mirrors, and other factors. Daedalus had designed quite roomy walkways between these ribs for occasional maintenance. They were almost never used, now that the colony was completed, and they provided wide tunnels to walk through. Later on, there would be more cramped passages to negotiate, but inside the main cylinder the progress was swift. They walked quickly, their crossbows on their backs and their chemical lamps hung from their breast-straps. A pool of light surrounded them, but above was total darkness. Every once in a while, they heard ghostly voices as they passed air-ducts channeling the sounds of life from the landscape above, but they walked in silence, lest someone above hear human voices drifting up from a well or duct and become curious.
Following the Professor’s instructions, they turned a corner and suddenly found themselves up against a barrier. A wall of wood and bricks and broken furniture across the corridor blocked their way. They were stunned at first, and the crossbows were raised, and arrows nocked in consternation.
Aaron whispered: “If we can come down here, so can others. It frankly never occurred to me. Obviously, someone has built this to keep others out. Or in.”
Genia tugged at Li’s sleeve. “I know where to go,” she said.
“Aaron,” Li said, “listen.” Genia shyly approached the scowling leader. “My father has been drawing his plans from memory all my life,” she said. “I grew up with them. I know a route around this wall.”
“All right,” Aaron said, “Take the lead. But listen, everybody, keep your weapons ready, in case we run into strangers. This doesn’t look like something the authorities would build, so I’m guessing other prisoners have come down here for some purpose they don’t want discovered.”
Genia took the lead and the others followed, arrows nocked and ready. She led them around a few turns and Aaron was quickly lost, his hours of memorizing the route now wasted. She led them around a few turns and suddenly they heard the sounds of rapid footsteps and deep breathing. A man—filthy and in rags—burst into view around a turn and crashed headlong into Genia. Aaron raised his hand quickly to avoid the poor man becoming a Saint Sebastian pincushion, but Genia already had him restrained and under control. Li chuckled proudly.
The man stared at them in horror, tears running down his dirty cheeks. “Please,” he said, “Please…”
“Who are you?” Aaron demanded.
He seemed puzzled by the question. “I’m the quarry,” he said.
“The quarry?”
“In the hunt. Please don’t kill me.”
“We won’t kill you,” Aaron said. “Tell us what’s happening.”
He seemed to collapse with relief and Genia pulled him to his feet again. “They hunt. They pick a prisoner, put him down a hole, give him a head start, and come after him. If you can get away, you will live. Usually, it’s a man. The women are kept.”
“At least one of these passages is blocked,” Aaron said. “My guess is you can’t get away anyhow. Who is doing this? The guards?”
“Other prisoners, though guards are involved. They bet on the outcome, provide rewards for the kill.”
They could hear sounds in the distance—running and laughter and yells. They backed around the corner and lined up the way Aaron had trained them, the front row on one knee, the back row standing, and others against the wall ready to step out into any gaps. They raised their crossbows.
A crowd of men, laughing and shouting, turned the corner with torches and a variety of weapons. Malik was first to fire. He picked out the one in a guard’s uniform and put an arrow in his forehead. Arrows flew in both directions. A couple of Martians went down, wounded, and all the strangers fell silently, with arrows in their throats or hearts. The dropped torches sputtered on the floor. The runner, crouching behind them, sat trembling.
A few men and women with nursing skills removed the arrows and patched up the Martian wounded. Malik declared that they were not hors de combat. Luckily, few of the hunters had possessed decent weapons. Most had homemade knives and never got close enough to use them. Only those with spears or bows could bring down a running man. The rest would have to be content with hacking the victim to death.
The hunters were piled up and made to look as if they had killed each other. Malik stripped off the guard’s uniform, rolled it up and shoved it in his backpack. “This could come in handy,” he said. He looked at the tableau. “The shit will hit the fan when the guard fails to show up for work and they find him in this pile,” he said. “I’m thinking the games will be over. I hope nobody will be looking for us.”
Aaron stood and said a few words quietly, as did Malik. A couple of the Martians crossed themselves.
“You can come with us,” Aaron said to the runner, who wept in gratitude, and the party moved on. A few meters down the corridor they found numerous bloodstains on the floor and walls. “I guess you got farther than most,” Li said to the runner.
“I got just far enough, as far as I’m concerned. May I ask where you’re going?”
“We’re going home to Mars.”
“We have a ship,” Wog added. “This is Gay. I’m Wog. That’s Aaron, and Malik, and Li. The brutal creature that took you down is Genia.”
Genia bathed the stranger in her smile. “Do you have a name? Some don’t in this place.”
“I’m Digger. That’s my name, not what I do.”
“OK. That’s better than Runner.”
“It’s better than Wog,” Aaron said.
***
Their route had finally led them to the observation platform above the spaceport deck. In the distance were the huge air-lock doors and freedom. On one side, just below, was the control booth. Behind thick glass, they could see two operators sitting at the air-lock controls, talking and laughing. On the other side was the Quasi-Police security office, where a pair of officers sat, doing what appeared to be paperwork. Or crosswords. Behind them, they could see weapons in racks and beyond, jail-cells. On the floor of the vast space below were ships. Malik pointed out the powerfully built and heavily shielded shuttles that would carry prisoners down into the crushing and poisonous atmosphere of Venus. There were other shuttles, designed to carry goods and personnel to the colony from the huge interplanetary ships like Poseidon Earthshaker and Grim-Visaged Aries, which would wait outside, nearly as big as the colony itself.
And there was a collection of impounded small ships, many of them damaged in one way or another and surrounded by parts and equipment. Among them was Fancy Dancer, beaten but unbowed, still beautiful with her backswept flying-wing planform, and still painted in her rust-red and dark grey Martian camouflage colors. Obviously, they had simply dumped her in the impound and left her there.
It was the middle of the night now, the great mirrors closed and most of the staff and prisoners sound asleep. In fact, Aaron and his troops had waited for hours in the cramped tunnels behind them until this hour to emerge from hiding, when the fewest staff would be present.
“This is the plan,” Aaron said. “My team will take control of the security office with a ruse, disable the guards, and collect weapons. Malik’s team will take control of the spaceport control tower, secure the people inside, and program the space-doors to open. Li, you and your team will accompany Wog and Gay, and open the ship. You will secure the wounded in the cargo-holds. The cargo-netting can be used for this. Then we will all board the ship and take off.”
It seemed both Malik and Li were about to speak, but Aaron raised his hand.
“You’re mostly Martians here and not seasoned troops, so I’m going to explain my orders, just once. I’m wearing the guard’s uniform, though it was Malik’s idea to take it, because it fits. Nobody would believe in a prison guard with one eye, frankly, because he would have been retired after the injury. Also, I’m the expert on weapons and know what we should take. Besides, Malik, you’ve been here a long time, you’ve been to the Hole and back, and you’re probably famous in this place. I’m sure the guards all know what you look like.
“Li, I know you were thinking of complaining about taking care of the wounded, like it’s women’s work. It’s not, it’s Martian’s work. These people must be gotten out of here safely. I’m still under contract to Mars and it’s my job to take care of you. You’re a clan-mother. When we get to Mars, we can have a Martian debate, but I’m in command until we take off, then Wog is in command in space, and when we get to Mars, you can run the show, if you like. Digger, do you think you can play a terrified prisoner?”
Digger laughed out loud. “I think I can manage that. I’ve been terrified for three weeks.”
***
The guards looked up to see one of their own at the door. He was carrying a crossbow in the crook of his arm and had a prisoner by the scruff of the neck. The man was in rags and filthy, had his hands behind his back. He looked up in terror. The Sergeant tapped the comm.
“What have you got there?”
“This guy was trying to sell this crossbow. Won’t tell me where he got it. Looks well-made. I need to put him on ice for now.”
The Sergeant buzzed them in while his partner went to get the cell-keys. As soon as the door opened, the prisoner darted inside and ran into the back of the office.
“Hey, you idiot! You can’t get anywhere that way.” The Sergeant ran after him and dragged him back, then noticed that his hands were tied and not in cuffs. He looked at Aaron and saw that an arrow was in the crossbow, pointed at his chest. Both officers raised their hands. One of them glanced toward the desk, but Aaron shook his head slowly, his eyes never leaving the man’s face. The prisoner removed their guns and brought them to Aaron. Soon the officers were cuffed and locked up in their own cells. Myrmidons were pouring into the office, removing weapons from the gun case. Aaron had a handgun in a holster on his hip, the crossbow on his back, one laser-rifle on his shoulder and another in his hand as he strode out onto the deck.
He handed one of the laser-rifles to Malik, who raised it to his shoulder. The space-door operators glanced up from their conversation and saw him. It was one of the most powerful such weapons made and would blow a hole in the thick quartz between them, probably taking off someone’s head in the process. One of the men inside felt the warmth of a laser-sight on his forehead and his hands shot up first. Malik motioned for the men to open the door and they did. He motioned for them to stand up and they did so, putting their hands on their heads. Soon his Spartans were collecting their own weapons, or locking up the operators, and he was sitting at the controls of the space-doors.
The elevator opened and Chi-Chi Li’s Amazons poured out. Wog strode past them, put his fingers in his mouth and whistled. On Fancy Dancer’s bridge, lights winked on, and the forward hatch opened.
“I’m so glad to see you, Wog. Gay, how are you, my dear? I was beginning to wonder if you were going to show up,” the ship said in its calm and mellifluous voice. Aaron remembered with fondness the voice of Atalanta. This was different, but just as lovely.
“Aaron Ben David and Chi-Chi Li are with us,” Wog said.
“That explains it. I noticed that you came with a small army. I’m glad I cleaned up. I assume we will be leaving as soon as possible. When the space-doors open, there will be an automatic alert. Is that Malik?”
“Hi, Fancy. Yes, it’s me. Back from the dead, you know, and bound for heaven. Can I silence that alarm from here?”
“It’s completely automatic, Malik. Everyone must be aboard when it goes off.”
Wog and Gay were already on the ship’s bridge, Wog in the pilot’s seat and Gay in the astrogator’s well, flipping switches. “I see you’ve been refueled,” Gay said.
Fancy Dancer suddenly had a Southern accent. “Bless me, all the boys were fighting over me. Everybody wanted to pilot me. I let them fuel me and fix me up, but every time they tried to start me, something broke. Poor boys were so disappointed.”
Chi-Chi Li laughed bawdily as she helped the Amazons set the wounded up in the hold, with the unwounded to watch over them. Then they pawed excitedly through the weapons. Li ended up with two handguns and a pair of bandoliers. Also, a huge commando knife.
Malik sent his troops into the ship.
“Malik!” Aaron growled. “Get in here. We gotta go.”
“Just a moment. Almost done. I’m programming the outer door to stay open when we’re gone. Then they won’t be able to open the inner one and come after us.”
Suddenly the elevator opened, and a squad of Quasi-Police poured out. Lasers flashed. Aaron and the Myrmidons fired back. One or two were hit.
“Malik!” Aaron shouted.
Malik picked up the laser-rifle and blew out the windows of the control tower. The Quasi-Police dove for cover. “Go,” Malik yelled. “Get the fuck out of here.”
Fancy’s drivers roared into life. She lifted off on a cushion of plasma as the inner space-door opened behind her. She turned and her exhaust gasses blasted the deck around her. Ships rocked in their cradles and objects flew like tree-branches in a hurricane. The Quasi-Police, just struggling to their feet, were blown down again. Malik had the high ground. He fired over their heads, and they ducked for cover again.
Fancy nosed into the lock and the door shut behind her with agonizing slowness. Malik heard Aaron’s voice on the panel. “We’ll be back for you, Malik.”
The inner door closed, and the panel indicated the outer door opening. Malik continued to take pot-shots at the cowering guards.
“Don’t rush,” he said. “I’ll be here for a while. Hey, Fancy, what do you think of this? Please, please don’t send me to the Hole again. Please.” The light indicated that the outer door was open. Even through the inner door, Malik could hear the roar of Fancy’s drivers reaching full power, and then she was gone. Silence fell. Malik sat still and put his hands on his head.
***
Malik could tell them nothing. Oh, they tortured him, but he had been told nothing and so he had nothing to tell them. It was all that bastard Aaron Ben David’s fault, he said, the Israeli sonofabitch. He had hand-picked prisoners and taken them with him to Mars. Then the bastard had left him behind. He had been so desperate to go because he was afraid to end up back in the Hole. Please don’t send him to the Hole. He’d rather be dead. He became despondent and withdrawn, tried to kill himself and failed. Finally, they decided he was not right in the head, and they might as well send him down with the other crazies and the incorrigibles.
He sat in the shuttle, looking out at the swirling yellow clouds of Venus below. All around him, prisoners were sobbing, or silent, or talking to themselves. Some Lennonite kept repeating, “It’s gonna be all right. You’re gonna see the light.” There was another prisoner who looked so devastated that Malik knew he was not going to survive. He had been a jailer, they said, Warden of a prison-camp in the Americas. The shuttle lurched and fell into the poisonous atmosphere. Sulfuric acid boiled on the thick quartz ports. The light went out above as they plummeted through the clouds. The shuttle lights winked on, stabbing down into the gloom. In a flash of lightning, they saw the dome on the surface beneath them.