Slave of Akrona Pt. 08

Slave of Akrona Part Eight

by G. Lawrence

Tensions build between two cultures

This science fiction novel features romance but is light on erotic content. It's the story of a young warrior from Earth captured by an alien species and sent to the mines of Akrona to live among slaves. But this warrior from another world is no slave. The book is being presented in 9 parts.

This is a short transitional chapter leading to the dramatic conclusions in chapters 9 and 10 presented in one segment.

* * * * * *

Chapter Eight

FATEFUL DECISIONS

"Here they come!" Shalli shouted as the sho'kara appeared above the low treeless ridge to the southeast.

As Karak had no formal landing pad, the craft maneuvered on stubby wing jets to an area south of the compound where the railroad tracks terminated, touching down near the maintenance shed. Nabbatron drove up on a tractor towing a flatbed trailer. Dogra and Shalli rode with him.

"Greetings, my mate," Gamtro said, disembarking from the side cargo hatch.

"How fared the hunt?" Dogra asked.

"A bull elk," Gamtro said, very pleased.

"A bull elk?" Dogra asked.

"Like a killian, but larger," Gamtro explained, extending his arms to indicate the wide antlers.

"And four rabbits," Grey said, holding up the kills as he jumped off the transport.

Shalli ran to hug him, kissing so passionately that Dogra wondered if they were about to couple. They didn't, but Shalli made it clear they soon would.

The guards helped unload the elk, putting the carcass on the trailer so all could see as they were towed past the camp. There would be fresh meat for the guards, skins and antlers for the slaves. Shalli would get the rabbits.

Grey surrendered his hunting equipment to Nabbatron, who showed no fear they might be misused, and went with Shalli to the main gate. More than a dozen people waited at the yellow rocks to meet him, all from Ferret Camp. There would be a celebration at sunset.

Gamtro took a trophy hoof from the bull elk and walked back to his headquarters with Dogra while Romtra gave him a preliminary report.

"The ore train departed on schedule, Baron Gamtro," Romtra said. "The workers are quiet, production on schedule. Work on the Bear Camp mine goes slowly. They request more blasting, but Ben recommended no blasting while he was away. Wolf Camp produced most quickly. Black Hands reports worker health good. A new pup was born to Deer Camp."

"I was there," Dogra said. "Shalli's friend Trebeca gave birth to a male. A live birth. So much screaming and blood. I thought setting down eggs was hard, but this was much worse. It was exciting, too. I was allowed to hold it."

"That is rare. Unless coerced, the food creatures never render up their young to such as us," Gamtro said.

"Except Frontra," Romtra corrected.

"Frontra is much accepted," Gamtro agreed.

As Romtra veered off to the guardhouse, Gamtro and Dogra went up the path to the headquarters. Back in their private room, Gamtro noticed scraps of material and sewing supplies on the table.

"How have you spent our separation?" Gamtro asked as he washed in the refreshment closet.

"I walked to the river with Frontra where we could view the farms through the fence," Dogra said. "Frontra said the newcomers are too unruly to visit inside the screen. Shalli said so, too. She was very upset when I suggested we go north of the lake without escort."

"Her advice was wise. Guards only walk the north section in pairs. And always armed," Gamtro said.

"It is interesting. In the north, near the river, we are hated. You can see the lust for violence in the eyes of the slaves. But Ben is worshipped there. In the southern camps near the lake, we are tolerated, and you are much respected, but Ben is treated coolly. Some even seem to resent him. Are the politics of these creatures so sophisticated?"

"Their ways are not so difficult to understand. Ben only arrived a few years ago, but soon cast a large shadow. The older camps vie with him for leadership. The newcomers arrived from brutal camps where life was lived at the edge of the pens. Ben's efforts to bring them here saved a thousand lives. He gave them food and decent quarters. For them, his leadership is unquestioned. This adds tension among the camps. But make no mistake, my beloved. They may complain and criticize, but even in the older camps, Ben is much honored."

"The dynamics would make an interesting study. Perhaps we could bring in a research committee? Examine the groups to better understand their culture."

"I would resist such an investigation," Gamtro said.

"But why, my mate? Such a study would be discussed at every academy."

"This is not the time to draw attention. It could be dangerous," Gamtro said.

"Dangerous for whom?" Dogra asked.

Gamtro stepped into the shower, scrubbed down with military efficiency, and emerged to brush claws with Dogra. He avoided her question.

"Have you been mending?" Gamtro asked, looking again at the sewing kits.

"Shalli and I created outfits. She stayed with me while you were gone. I apologize if rules were broken."

"Shalli is assigned to serve you. You alone decide how that is best accomplished," Gamtro answered.

Dogra sighed with relief. "I was worried we had taken liberties. Shalli even stayed here at night instead of returning to camp."

"You shared the same nest with a food creature? What would your friends say?" Gamtro teased.

"I could never think of Shalli as a food creature. She is sweet and caring. Harming her would be a crime."

"Harming her is not a crime. Someday our laws may send her to the pens," Gamtro warned.

Dogra's eyes went flat, a gray film appearing over the yellow irises. Her breath paused.

"I did not mean to sadden you," Gamtro said, taking hold of her claws. "Shalli is safe in our camp. They all are. Sherra will see to their future."

"My beloved, are you a follower of Mordari?" Dogra asked.

"No, my mate. There is wisdom in Mordari's words, but I do not believe her divinely inspired. Our empire struggles. There is much we can do better. But Sherra's blessing do not rise or fall on the fate of food creatures. If it did, we would have faltered centuries ago."

Dogra went outside to sit on the balcony, watching the camp beyond the tracks. As sunset came, fires were started and people gathered for their evening meals. Singing could be heard.

"Some of the creatures are violent, much as they are portrayed in our theatres," Dogra said when Gamtro joined her. "They should all hate us, but they do not. Not Shalli or her camp. Why is that?"

"Some have known Frontra for many years. She is respected," Gamtro speculated. "Ben knows that all Arikhan are not the same. He sees us as individuals, and much do his views influence others. Brutal guards are still hated, and slaves who see us only as masters may always hate us, but a few respect us for who we are."

"If the slaves who are treated brutally were treated well, would they still hate us? Where does the responsibility lie?"

"You begin to echo Mordari, my beloved," Gamtro said.

"I fear what Mordari's message may mean for us. To be called a traitor would break my heart, but I cannot close my eyes. I will not forget what I have learned here."

* * * * * *

"Your departure schedule leaves little time for error, but you will have an extra day to enjoy the festival," Gamtro said.

"This has been a wonderful visit. Difficult to believe we have but a breath of season remaining," Dogra sighed, snuggling next to him in their disheveled nest.

"Never has time traveled so fast," Gamtro agreed. "If you do not object, I would have Ben and Shalli share our meal on the rest day. Near end of season, they are busy with their duties. We may not have another chance to dine privately."

"Can you not excuse them from their duties, all-powerful Baron Gamtro?" Dogra asked.

"Ben is studying improvements for the next season. Shalli will be planning the festival. The responsibilities are to their people, not to me," Gamtro explained.

"They work hard. Everyone here works hard, including you, my beloved. It would be pleasant to share a final meal with Shalli and Ben."

"Your love for Shalli is well known. Have you warmed to Ben?" Gamtro asked.

"I respect him, but he does not invoke the feelings I have for Shalli. And his background disturbs me. Clearly he is not of this star system. I have considered making inquiries."

"Inquiries are unnecessary. I have his records," Gamtro said.

"I have not found them in the register," she mentioned

"They are confidential files."

"By whose order?"

"My own. And I will not release them. Should the ministry ever request more information, there is a false file identifying Ben as a survivor from Kappapek, a destroyed timber camp on Laggerate's eastern slope."

"This mystery worries me. What secret involving Ben can warrant such a breach of procedure?"

"Have you no suspicions?"

"I had a suspicion once, but it could not be true. I reviewed the chronology and found my suspicion wrong."

"Let us leave it at that," Gamtro urged.

"One day I will ask again. I shall expect an answer," Dogra said, angered by her mate's reluctance.

A few days later, as Baron Gamtro spent the morning reviewing end of season reports, Dogra joined Frontra on her morning rounds in the compound. Though Frontra carried her sidearm, as she always did when escorting the illustrious Lady Gamtra, Dogra did not find the precaution necessary. The women of the southern camps had come to accept her daily visits.

"You stay busy in the evenings. Romtra says you burn your recorder," Frontra said as they approached the gate.

"I am writing a chronicle of my camp experiences," Dogra said. "Though in deference to Baron Gamtro, it downplays Ben's contributions to Karak's success. Much of my story centers on Shalli, though I have not told her of this. I would not have her feel inhibited."

"It is sad no one will read such a work," Frontra remarked with a soft click.

"They will read mine."

"I have little faith our people will give up their cherished perceptions."

"To have impact, my readers will need to know these abused creatures are not the mindless brutes of popular culture," Dogra explained.

Dogra strolled a little faster as they passed Rabbit Camp and approached the gardens where Shalli and her friends were working.

When Shalli saw Dogra coming, her face brightened with a smile. The trowel she held dropped into the soil and Shalli ran through the plots, ignoring the late season plants.

"Dogra!" Shalli yelled, forgetting to use Dogra's formal title in public as she was supposed to. Dogra knew she should be displeased, but Shalli was so filled with joy she could not be angry.

"It has happened," Shalli said, jumping high to kiss Dogra on her bony cheek and hugging her big frame with all her might. Dogra was impressed by the small creature's strength.

"What has happened?" Dogra said, brushing the spot where Shalli's lips had kissed her. She could not remember ever seeing such a demonstration of affection from a slave. She looked at Frontra, who was equally surprised.

"The blessing, mistress. I have received Sherra's blessing," Shalli said.

Dogra knew what it meant to Shalli, having seen the envy in her eyes as she watched other mothers tend their young.

"That is wonderful, child," Dogra said, clumsily returning the hug. And finding satisfaction in the gesture. "I am sure it will be a beautiful, healthy male."

"I do not want a boy. I want a girl, to honor you. To bless the good fortune you have brought," Shalli said.

Frontra gasped. Dogra also caught her breath. To acknowledge such a bond would have profound implications.

"That is thoughtful of you, Shalli," Dogra said, slowly disengaging. "But such an honor belongs with one of your own kind. Myra or Court. You must speak to them."

"But it is you and Baron Gamtro who have made our lives so special," Shalli said.

"Your mate brought you much, including this gift. Your mate and Sherra's generosity. Your offer pleases me, but it is not suitable," Dogra tried to explain.

Shalli's smile faded. Dogra brushed back the long blonde hair and looked deeply into the big blue eyes.

"I wish you were my egg, but Sherra has cast us in different roles. Please understand," Dogra consoled.

Shalli nodded, trying unsuccessfully not to let Dogra see her disappointment. Myra waved. Shalli returned to her garden.

"The food creature truly loves you, Lady Gamtra. Never have I witnessed such a thing," Frontra said, eye-rings round in awe.

"Shalli is not a food creature, Frontra. You know as much. It distresses me to see her trapped in this horrid place. Come, I need a quiet place to reflect."

Dogra and Frontra skirted the gardens, walked along the edge of the lake, and approached the porch of Shalli's house.

"Frontra, sit with me," Dogra said, offering the commoner a rare privilege.

"Thank you, Lady Gamtra," Frontra accepted, taking her usual stool near the railing overlooking the lake.

"How do you cope?" Dogra asked, her tongue clicking sharply in frustration. "I know you have affection for these creatures. As they have for you. How can you bear seeing them like this day after day?"

"If I do not watch over them, someone else will have the duty. Someone who does not care for them. Someone who does not realize that Sherra's spirit resides within them."

"You believe that?" Dogra asked.

"It is not a matter of belief. It is Sherra's Truth."

"You speak like Mordari."

"None speak so eloquently as the Voice of Sherra," Frontra said, clicking her tongue with reverence.

"A follower of Mordari, a guard in a slave camp? What strange lives we lead. How is it you see these slaves as more than food?" Dogra asked.

Frontra turned sad, looking out toward the lake.

"One of my early assignments on Akrona was with the Contingent, hunting primitives on the eastern slopes," Frontra recalled. "We slaughtered a small village, nearly all women and children. Under a slain mother, I found a pup struggling to feed on the dead breast. It was so helpless. It reached for me. I took the pup back to our barracks and fed it. Cared for it. It grew, and smiled, and laughed. I thought it a wondrous pet. Then one day it spoke. It called me mother. I called her Gammy."

Frontra was forced to pause, her throat choked with emotion. Her claws trembled. Her eyes stared distantly. Dogra had never imagined the stoic guard so sentimental.

"A day came when I was on assignment," Frontra eventually continued. "As a joke, a barracks mate sent the child to the pens. I was too late to save it."

Dogra reacted in horror, her cheeks flushing the brightest of blues. She knew she shouldn't be shocked. Slaves were routinely sent to the pens. But somehow this was personal. It had hurt Frontra.

What if it was Shalli who had been sent to the pens? Dogra wondered. What if I had come to the camp today, and instead of being warmed by her joy, learned she had been sent to the butcher shop?

"I know frontier life is difficult," Dogra said, struggling to control her emotions. "Our soldiers eat meat wherever they find it. Our distribution centers are filled with food from captive worlds. Must it be this way? I do not believe our people would tolerate such practices if they knew creatures like Gammy and Shalli."

"I may not say, mistress. I have not seen Arikhan since my fourteenth year," Frontra replied. "There were twenty-five years spent in fleet. Three years with the Contingent. I have been a guard at Karak for the last ten. I do my best, knowing these creatures have little future. What else may I do?"

Dogra realized there was nothing else an aging veteran like Frontra could do, and it was far more than most would even attempt.

"You serve nobly, Frontra. When I return to Arikhan, I will write of Akrona. I will ask my friend Gretnar to do a theatre," Dogra promised.

Frontra said nothing. Her posture displayed no enthusiasm.

"What is wrong? Should action not be taken?" Dogra asked.

"Sherra turns her face from us. Few believe what all should be able to see," Frontra answered. "Change does not come easily. I once spoke to Ben of this, hoping he could shed light on the brutality. Hoping he could see an end, much as you do. He spoke of a time on his own world when slavery tore at the better hearts. A rebel leader arose who fought the slavery without compromise. He was captured and executed. In his final words, he said the sins of a guilty land may only be washed away in blood. Much have I come to think on these words. I fear they are true."

"Our people may be wiser than his. What do you know of Ben?"

"We are friends, as much as he is friends with anybody. He holds back his feelings. Disguises his thoughts. He cares deeply but will not let himself show it. He is freer than any member of this camp, because he fears nothing. And more slave, because he fears everything."

"Have you seen Ben's paintings? Gretnar says paintings are windows into the soul."

"I purchased the colored oils for him while on leave at Va'ragashant," Frontra said with pride.

Dogra stood up and went inside the dwelling intending to give the paintings closer study. They were gone. The walls were bare except for one recently made picture of a sunrise. The painting wasn't very good.

"Where are they?" Dogra asked.

"Upstairs, in the office," Frontra said.

Dogra backtracked to the outside staircase and ran up the steps, bursting into Grey's office. On the walls she saw maps and production charts, not just of Karak, but of a dozen different mining camps, but no paintings. Frontra pointed to the corner where the canvases were rolled together in a stack.

"Why? Why?" Dogra asked.

"Ben fears they distress Shalli. With a new baby coming, he chose to take them down in place of happier images. He plans to offer them to Baron Gamtro. Or burn them. He has not decided."

"Burn them? No. Never. Pick them up. All of them. Pick them up now," Dogra ordered. "I will apologize later, but these must be saved. Saved and taken back to civilization where they can be appreciated. Our people will realize this slavery is wrong when they see Ben's paintings."

"It would prove nothing," Frontra denied.

"What do you mean?"

"The paintings would prove nothing. Ben is not a slave."

"Not a slave? Explain."

"It is not my place, Lady Gamtra," Frontra said, sorry to have spoken so freely.

"I order you to explain," Dogra insisted.

"Ben is a prisoner of war," Frontra answered.

* * * ** *

Later in the afternoon, Baron Gamtro and Nabbatron toured the compound, letting the workers know that each camp was on schedule to make quota. The harvest festival, now only a few days away, would be memorable.

The last visit on their tour was Ferret Camp, now a robust community of eighty people living in well-built timber cabins. Dogra and Frontra were there helping the women prepare a late afternoon meal.

"Baron Gamtro, I would speak with you," Dogra said.

"Beware, Baron. The Lady Gamtra has spikes for eyes," Nabbatron warned.

Myra and Shalli looked up from their baskets even as young Garn, now eight years old, ran to tug on Gamtro's tunic.

"Welcome to Ferret Camp, my Lord," eight-year-old Garn said in perfect Arikhan, adding a click of his tongue at the end.

"You grow well, Garn. Soon you will work beside your father in the quarries," Gamtro praised, patting the child on the head before sending him back to Myra.

Gamtro allowed Nabbatron to make the formal announcement. No one was surprised. All knew quota had been reached the week before but it was nice to hear the festival would last four days.

Dogra would wait no longer, dragging Gamtro off to a hillside not far from the abandoned mine entrance.

"It is time you tell me of Ben," Dogra demanded. "Soon I return home to take a new position in the ministry. A high position due our rank. I also write an essay in which Ben may not be ignored."

"You know Ben is not of Akrona. Does it matter where he comes from?"

"Why does Frontra call him a prisoner of war?"

"Frontra should not do so."

"She has. It must be explained."

"Follow," Gamtro instructed.

He turned toward the mountain and climbed a steep trail, pausing on a hill that overlooked Karak. Dogra followed, her breath short when she reached the top.

"Interesting," Dogra observed, looking down on Ferret Camp, then toward the lake.

"In his first season at this camp, Ben dwelled up here. Alone. Feeding off the wild growths. He would take his place in the mines, but would not reside among the people," Gamtro said.

"Sherra's Spirit, why?" Dogra questioned.

"Ben did not speak the language of the natives, and was deeply disturbed by the loss of his previous life. Ferret Camp thought him a spy. Frontra says they insulted him. Took his food. Some even threatened him. Ben came to this camp with nothing.

"Back then, the people were poor. Their tribe had been devastated by a cave-in and could not make quota. They lived in rotting tents with barely enough food to survive. I did not help them. It did not seem necessary. I thought a failing camp might supply fresh meat for the pens."

Dogra looked down at the happy camp now filled with young children. She could hardly believe it was the same place.

"Ben did this, my beloved," Gamtro said, a wave of his arm indicating the entire Karak compound. "After a time, I helped. It was to my advantage. And later, it was my privilege. But in the beginning, his shoulders alone carried these people back from the edge of oblivion. And never once, in all these years, has he asked for thanks. Or gracefully accepted gratitude."

"But who is he? Where did he come from?" Dogra asked.

Gamtro went farther up the mountain through weeds and scrub trees until reaching a shallow canyon. One of the cliff walls was covered in worn etchings.

"These scratches were made years ago, during Ben's first season at Karak," Gamtro said. "The years have obscured many of the marks, yet small portions may still be seen."

"A star chart," Dogra quickly said, rushing to examine it.

Her rapid deduction surprised Gamtro. It had taken him half an hour to reach the same conclusion.

"Here is Laros," Dogra said, immediately recognizing the central diagram.

She stood before the fascinating sandstone wall tracing with her forward digit, looking at the many tracks that ended without resolution. Though half the etchings were unreadable, she could reconstruct most of them through logical conjecture.

"There are several possible solutions," Gamtro warned.

Dogra paid him no mind, concentrating on the puzzle until one variation stood out.

"Sol," she whispered in dread. "Nearly twelve hundred light years away. But the Sol creatures did not open a stargate until last year, and Ben has been here more than seven."

"He may have drifted in space even longer," Gamtro guessed. "This must not be revealed. I have told no one, not even Frontra. Ben was found outside our stargate, floating in a debris field. The patrol ship that discovered him was later destroyed by marauders. After interrogation by the Contingent, he was sent here as a slave."

"The battle of Sol was eight years ago. Have you seen the visuals brought back by the survivors?"

"We witnessed the images released during the homecoming. Only one warrior defending Sol wore an armored suit like the one Ben was found in. The same warrior who destroyed Bellerophon."

"Technical aspects of the battle are classified, but every report says the curl was killed in the explosion," Dogra related.

"Ben is not a demon, and he was not killed. Somehow, he was thrown through the Laros stargate to be found by the Link," Gamtro said.

"This human was not just an ordinary soldier. He was their leader. The invasion would have succeeded if not for his efforts. He is an enemy of the empire!" Dogra declared.

"The same empire that would send Shalli to the pens," Gamtro countered.

"That is not fair," Dogra complained.

"Nothing of this is fair. I only know Ben has been a friend to the people here. He has been my friend. He has taught me new ways of thinking, and new ways for our empire to prosper. The title I should have had years ago if not for Festro's jealousy is finally mine. Tell me, beloved, if I betray Ben, what glory would Sherra grant us? What glory would we deserve?"

"Despite your obligation, I believe we must tell the Council of Warriors," Dogra said. "I fear you do not know this creature so well as you assume. I have not seen all the records, but intelligence reported him as cunning. A deceiver. Most dangerous when apparently defeated. I see now why he dominates this camp. He is a wolf among cattle."

"I am not cattle," Gamtro said, eye-rings bent hard with anger. "I thought you learned much on your visit here. It was my hope that you would. Now I fear you have learned nothing."

Gamtro walked away, going farther up the hill until reaching a small meadow. Dogra followed.

"Forgive me, Gamtro. You have had years to overcome your doubts, I but a season. It is much to think on. Rest well knowing nothing will be said until we both agree the time is right," she promised.

"Write your chronicle. Your friend Gretnar can do a theatre. Be sure you understand your subject. Listen to Frontra's wisdom. Hear the skepticism of Nabbatron. Do not portray these creatures as lovable pets, for they are not. They are good and evil, kind and hateful. They are much like us. And if you see the worst in Ben, be able to recognize the best."

"I will strive to see as you do," Dogra said, unhappy to have spoiled their day together.

They started back down the hill veering toward the trail above Ferret Camp before coming upon an old prospector's shack. Nearby was a covered opening in the ground.

"Someone has been up here recently," Gamtro said, finding footprints in the dirt. He took a solar lamp from the repaired shack and went to inspect the shaft, pushing the wooden cover to one side.

"This must be the ventilation tunnel Frontra told me about," Gamtro said. "It was dug long ago, before Karak was even built. Ben is said to study the mountain's geology from here."

"It is dangerous. Leave the hole to those who crawl in such places," Dogra urged.

"I just want a short look," Gamtro replied, turning to back down into the shaft. He reached with his foot, found a ladder, and put his weight on it. The rung held, so he tried another.

"Come back. The hole looks unsafe," Dogra said, tongue clicking nervously.

"There is a ladder bolted to the wall. It feels sound," Gamtro said, going down another rung.

Soon only his head appeared above the surface. He used the lamp to peer down. Small falling stones were causing an echo.

"The shaft is deep. I see a branch tunnel," he said.

Gamtro felt his foot slip. He regained his hold. The rung slipped more.

"Perhaps this is not so safe," Gamtro realized. "I will--"

The rungs below his feet broke loose. Gamtro grabbed for rungs higher up but his great weight was more than the old supports would hold. He looked at Dogra with sudden surprise. Then he disappeared down the shaft.

"Gamtro? Gamtro!" Dogra yelled, rushing to the edge.

She heard crashing. Breaking beams. The sounds seemed to come from faraway.

"Gamtro?" she called one last time.

He didn't answer. There was no noise.

Desperately seeking the correct direction, Dogra ran down the hill through the overgrown brush, reaching the ledge above Ferret Camp. The small village was still a hundred yards away, but she could see people moving around.

"Frontra! Frontra!" Dogra summoned.

Frontra came running from the camp, breathing hard because of the sprint. Nabbatron was close behind. Several women and children were with them.

"Baron Gamtro has fallen down a hole. A deep hole. We need help," Dogra shouted.

Nabbatron was first to climb the hill. Frontra took out her communicator, sending an alert to the main gate. Myra turned to Garn, and with a whispered word, sent him running. Then she, too, began to climb the steep trail.

As Nabbatron and Frontra reached the crest, Dogra looked down to see even more help coming. Shalli was among them, running faster than she thought the creature could go, carrying a black medical bag clutched in her arms. In the distance, she saw men coming from the quarry. A dozen of them, many carrying tools.

Dogra led the rescue party back to the ventilation shaft, relieved to find the shack without much effort. Other than Karak's guards, she wasn't sure if any of the others had ever been there.

"Here. He fell here," Dogra said.

Nabbatron knelt at the hole seeing nothing but blackness. Myra lay flat on the ground, her ear bent for the slightest noise.

"There is a rustling. Maybe dirt falling. I don't know," Myra said.

Nabbatron tried to test the ladder but few of the upper rungs survived. He studied the shaft again.

"We need rope," Nabbatron decided.

"In the shed," Frontra indicated.

Someone, Dogra wasn't sure who, found a coil of rope and returned.

"It is not enough," Nabbatron said, finding a bare ten meters.

Shalli arrived with the medical bag. She looked distressed to find only the hole and no sign of Gamtro.

"Where is he?" Shalli asked.

"He has fallen down the shaft, dear," Myra said, still listening for clues.

"We need more rope. Rope and lamps. This shaft may be hundreds of claws deep," Nabbatron said.

"Hundreds? Gamtro, what has happened to you?" Dogra whispered into the darkness. Shalli went to her side.

"The master will return. You will see. Gamtro is good. Sherra will not abandon him," Shalli said.

"I pray you are right, Shalli. Please, Sherra, please bless us at this moment," Dogra responded, feeling an inescapable despair.

Nabbatron and the handful of people standing nearby bowed in reverence, for none could ignore such a plea.

Suddenly, all heads turned with sighs of relief. Even the guards. Dogra saw Grey hurrying up the trail, his brow furrowed with concern, his expression gritted in determination. Against her will, she felt her heart soar with hope.

"Stand back," Grey ordered, making everyone move away from the shaft. No one dared disobey, not even Nabbatron.

"Barris, have the men build a platform over the hole," Grey commanded. "Turk, get two pulleys from the shed and all the rope you can find. Wart, get lamps from the camp. Everybody, hurry!"

Grey listened from the top of the shaft as Myra had done, but he was able to hear more, sensing the mountain as one long acquainted with its ways. Shalli knelt at his side.

"Can you hear him?" Shalli asked.

"I hear something," Grey said.

He pulled Shalli close, gave her a deep kiss, and rolled sideways into the hole, disappearing almost instantly.

"Has he fallen?" Dogra asked, unsure what had happened.

"I do not see him," Nabbatron said, equally mystified. The shaft was quiet, and dark. It seemed as if Karak's engineer had simply vanished. Dogra was unnerved, and even Nabbatron seemed puzzled.

"Do not be afraid, mistress. Ben will not let the mountain claim your mate," Shalli said, standing at her side.

Dogra looked at the people nodding their heads. Even Frontra agreed.

Grey grabbed the good rungs, skipping the ones he knew to be weak, and dropped to the first ledge. Everything below was black. Above him, the light was growing small. He knew of a larger ledge farther down and hoped Gamtro had managed to land on it, so he climbed rapidly to the next offshoot tunnel and reached into a niche where a lamp was stored.

The niche was empty, the rungs nearby torn from the wall. When Grey reached the large ledge, he found it was gone, too. Gamtro had landed on it with such force the entire landing had broken free.

He continued down past several more tunnels, most of which he had explored. There was no further evidence of Gamtro until he approached the bottom of the shaft. Just where he expected to find the fallen victim, there was nothing. Not even a floor. Grey probed with his foot while hanging tightly to the lowest rung, but all he found was empty air. He paused, listening carefully for breathing. He did not hear any, but he did hear moving water.

"Gamtro? Gamtro?" Grey called.

No voice, but a splash.

"I need a lamp," Grey yelled up the shaft, the echo distorting his voice.

He couldn't see anything specific at the top, only shifts of light. Then a stronger light bounced back and forth as it dropped closer. It felt like ages until the solar charged lamp finally reached him.

"Ben?" a voice said.

It was Dogra's voice coming from Frontra's communicator, the small black transmitter clipped to the rope.

"Yes, Lady Gamtra," Grey said, pulling in the equipment.

"Have you found him? Does he live?" Dogra asked.

"Remain hopeful," Grey replied.

Grey used the lamp to inspect the bottom of the shaft. The floor was gone, smashed through. The walls around the missing floor had caved in, revealing a dark cavern five meters below him. A cavern he never knew existed. Had the floor been a false bottom all along?

Water reflected below him. It moved briskly from the west toward the creek south of Ferret Camp. Not rapid, but churning enough to cut the dirt walls.

Grey tugged on the rope. It wasn't the best quality.

"Barris, will the rope hold my weight?" he asked into the communicator.

The communicator buzzed.

"Barris says the rope will hold your weight, but not more. They are making a stronger one," Dogra answered.

More line was loosened, giving some play. Grey tied the end under his arms, made a simple knot, and swung out into empty space. The pull caused him to drop rapidly until he splashed into a pool of cold, knee-deep water.

Grey looked up the shaft with the lamp. Gamtro's impact on the false flooring had created a crater in the ceiling. An occasional bright reflection hinted at the cavern's secret. Diamond deposits. After all the years of searching, he had finally found them, but there was no time for treasure hunting.

The cavern was wide near the bottom of the shaft but quickly narrowed as it went downstream. Grey suspected the water level was rising, debris from the cave-in having clogged the channel. After probing the water immediately below the shaft, he began following the flow. Hardly more than five meters away, he spotted a pile of mud and broken timbers piled against the wall. And Gamtro, pinned beneath. A glance at the roof indicated an unstable situation.

"Baron, are you hurt?" Grey asked, wading to his side.

"If anyone would venture into this dismal hell, it would be you," Gamtro answered weakly.

"This is not a good place. I think we should leave," Grey said, trying to lift a timber. It was heavy. Water-soaked and wedged tight. He looked around for a lever.

"The roof comes down. The walls grow weak. In just a few minutes the water has risen above my waist," Gamtro said.

Grey found a broken timber and levered a beam off Gamtro's chest, then reached underwater and dragged a smaller beam off his thighs. A final beam had Gamtro's left ankle pinned in the mud. Holding his breath, Grey ducked under the surface and tried to dig Gamtro's leg free, but he found solid rock underneath.

"Ben? Ben?" Dogra was saying when Grey resurfaced for air.

"He's here, Lady Gamtra," Grey said, attaching the communicator to Gamtro's shoulder strap.

"Beloved?" Gamtro said, his voice a whisper.

"Your speech is not strong, my Lord," Dogra said.

"We fare poorly. There is much water at the bottom of the cave. Our space grows smaller."

And suddenly it did, a section of the wall giving way in a big splash of mud and rock. One boulder hit Grey on the forehead so hard he went under, resurfacing with difficulty. The collapse caused the water level to rise higher.

"Lady Gamtra? Barris?" Grey called.

There was no answer. The communicator was either too wet or damaged.

"I think the cave grows larger. It's only our portion that grows smaller," Grey suggested.

"You jest at bad moments," Gamtro reprimanded.

"I had hoped the bad moments were behind us. Let me try to move the beam again. Be ready to pull your leg free."

Grey found the best lever he could, set a fulcrum in the tight space, and tried to lift the beam. It wouldn't budge, and the dark water made it impossible to see why. Grey ducked into the stream again, probing and digging along the length of the obstacle. There was mud everywhere that seemed to fill in as quickly as it was dug away.

"Not much success," Grey said, coming up for air.

More rocks fell from the roof. Larger boulders were barely held in place.

"Perhaps you should leave," Gamtro said.

"Perhaps not," Grey disagreed, searching for alternatives.

"I order you to leave."

"With all respect, master, I refuse."

"You may not refuse a direct order," Gamtro said.

"I have never been good at obeying orders. Even as a child, I was much punished."

Again Grey dove, seeking an angle that might work. As he shoved the lever against the timber's highest end and pushed the fulcrum in a secure spot, the beam suddenly shifted with his forearm caught underneath. He struggled to pull free, kicking with his legs, but as his air ran out he began to panic. Bubbles burst on the surface when water started replacing air in his lungs. At the last moment, a great claw secured a hold on his metal slave collar and yanked him up.

"You do not breathe well underwater," Gamtro observed.

Grey coughed. His arm hurt. While Gamtro's grip steadied him against the current, Grey felt the bone and cursed himself for a fool. His right ulna bone was fractured just above the wrist.

"We need better cloth in this camp," Gamtro said, holding scraps of Grey's shirt. Grey discovered his tunic was torn to shreds, apparently by Gamtro's effort to save him.

"This is not a good situation," Grey concluded.

"Always have I admired your keen powers of observation," Gamtro replied.

A boulder splashed down, narrowly missing them.

"The collapse of the false floor might have raised an underground spring. If so, it may run itself out," Grey said.

"It would already have done so. Soon this entire cavern will be mud. Much wealth have I taken from the mountain. Now the mountain demands payment."

Grey tried one last time to shift the beam or dig under it, but Gamtro was right. It was held down by more shifting mud than he could move.

"The mountain is in a bad mood today," Grey agreed.

"You should leave now," Gamtro said.

"I think it better to stay here with my friend. Maybe something will happen."

"Did you break your arm?"

"I fear so."

"You should be more careful."

"It is not me who has a foot pinned beneath a log in a cave filling with mud."

"No, but you are stupid enough to sit next to one who has," Gamtro responded.

"You are smarter than me today. This does not happen often."

"You are impertinent."

"Always has it been so," Grey replied with a laugh.

Gamtro clicked his tongue in amusement.

"Did you bring a saw?" Gamtro asked.

"The beam is too thick to cut underwater," Grey reported.

"My leg is not. Maybe the mountain will take my leg and let the rest of me go."

"Are you sure? Such is not the way of your people," Grey mentioned.

"Will you leave without me?" Gamtro asked.

"I have not decided. Maybe I will abandon you if I grow afraid."

"Get a saw. We are running out of time."

Grey stood up, the water almost to his waist, and shoved a timber against the wall above Gamtro's head to retard slippage. Then he waded back until he could look up the shaft. The top was only a tiny circle of light. He tested the rope, wondering if it could be tied around the timber pinning Gamtro and then hauled from above, but he quickly saw it wasn't a good plan. The rope would slice into the roof, collapsing the chamber even faster.

"I will return in a few minutes," Grey said, tugging the rope. A moment later he felt himself being lifted.

Grey studied the shaft on the way up, pushing back projections and loose rungs. The light grew bigger, then bright. Barris and Nabbatron grabbed his arms, pulling him into the sunlight.

"I need a bone saw, the sharpest we've got. And a First Aid kit," Grey said, squinting against the blinding sun.

Gradually, as he was able to see again, he noticed Black Hands had arrived and was sorting through her supplies. Barris and Nabbatron were rigging a stronger sling. Shalli and Myra prepared a stretcher as a dozen others gathered materials. Dogra knelt at his side.

"How fares my mate?" she asked.

"All is not the best, but he will come back," Grey assured her.

"Have you the strength to bring him back? Even with a broken arm?"

"My arm is fine," Grey protested.

Dogra grabbed his wrist and squeezed. Grey yelped and pulled away.

"The arm is broken," Dogra said.

"If you want Baron Gamtro back, I suggest you put off sending me to the pens," Grey replied, glaring at her.

Dogra was surprised he would say that. And insulted. Black Hands came with splints, medical tape, and a pain killer.

"How did you know?" Grey asked.

"The transmitter still works. You could not hear us, but we could hear you," Black Hands explained. Grey looked at Dogra.

"Then you know what is planned?" he asked.

"My mate is brave. Not many would accept such a compromise, but his work is unfinished. Do you have enough time?"

"I will try my best. But if I do not come back, promise to take Shalli away from here."

"And if I do not? Will the destroyer of Bellerophon refuse to rescue my mate?"

Grey sighed. Though it wasn't her intent, Dogra's remark struck him like a cold wind. His eyebrows flattened. The shoulders dipped.

"I wish you would help Shalli, but I have no time to argue with an official of the Arikhan food creature eating ministry," he snapped.

As Black Hands finished wrapping his arm, she looked at Grey with many questions. She had heard the entire conversation and knew him well enough to guess the pessimism in his thoughts.

"The splints will not hold if you're rash," Black Hands warned.

When Black Hands went to help with the stretcher, Grey called for Nabbatron. Lady Gamtra stayed close, watching everything.

"May I give advice, master?" Grey asked.

"Say what must be done, half-meat. There is no time for insincere formalities," Nabbatron ordered.

"I am going to loop the rope under Gamtro's arms. After the severance, I will drag him directly beneath the opening. Pull him upright, let me wrap the wound, then have Clagg, Barris, and Turk haul on the rope. Pull steady, do not yank. Summon a sho'kara from Va'ragashant."

"Such a craft is already on the way," Nabbatron said.

"I think Baron Gamtro may have internal injuries. If you have a civilized yarbel ky on this planet, make mention that his condition is serious," Grey advised.

"It will be as you say," Nabbatron confirmed, clicking his tongue in confirmation.

Grey let Barris secure the rope around his chest, then crawled back toward the shaft. Frontra arrived with a bone saw which Grey tucked in his belt. Then there was a somber moment of silence. All seemed to sense that their lives were about to change, and maybe not for the better. Grey, in particular, was looking at the people of the camp as if he may not see them again. Shalli gave him a kiss.

"Don't be afraid. You are stronger than the mountain," Shalli urged.

Grey looked at Dogra, unable to read her expression. He studied Nabbatron and Frontra. Whatever Dogra knew, it seemed they didn't. Not that it would ultimately matter.

"Be brave. Never forget I love you," Grey said, giving Shalli another kiss. Then he dropped back into the shaft, feeling the tight grip of the rope under his arms.

Within minutes, Grey was back on the bottom of the shaft, wading through the cold water toward Gamtro. The water was up to Gamtro's neck. Soon it would no longer be possible for him to breathe.

"Did you bring the saw?" Gamtro asked.

"Yes. Do you still want me to use it?"

"What choice is there?" Gamtro questioned.

A rush of water pushed Grey downstream. He grabbed Gamtro's shoulder to pull himself back.

"This is delicate. Your mate hears all we say," Grey warned, spitting water.

"Speak," Gamtro ordered.

"Lady Gamtra knows the name I once had. We both knew this day would come. I have asked Lady Gamtra to take Shalli away if I am unable to return. I think that might be for the best."

"You have a dark view of life. Have you always given up so easily?"

"If I have little time left, I would give the balance to Shalli and our baby."

"It is no less than I would expect from you, but I fail to share your gloom. I will not give up. You must not give up. Saw the leg so we can leave this cursed place."

Grey ducked underwater and cut Gamtro's pants leg open with a knife. He used an injector from Black Hands' medical bag to apply a pain killer, then went up for a final breath before starting on flesh and bone with the saw, cutting just above the ankle. It was a good saw, taking only a few more breaths to finish.

Gamtro floated free of the timber just as the water reached a critical level. Grey towed him back to the opening, tied Gamtro securely in the harness, and gave the signal. He was hoisted high enough to clear the water line, giving Grey a chance to wrap the stump.

"How does it look?" Gamtro asked, the drug making him sleepy.

"A clean cut. Are you ready to be pulled up?"

There was no answer. Gamtro had lost consciousness. Grey finished wrapping the wound and ordered the pullers to continue, watching as Gamtro became a shadow against the small light at the top of the shaft.

The cavern was turning into quicksand, but Grey wasn't afraid of being trapped there. The question of survival didn't belong to the mountain. He considered Gamtro's words while waiting for the rope to drop back down, and was almost disappointed when it did. But the decision was made. He tied the rope around his chest and signaled.

By the time Grey was pulled from the muddy cavern, Gamtro had been carried down the hill to Ferret Camp. The hovercraft arrived, the whine of the landing jets rumbling off the cliffs. Black Hands kept Grey back to treat the broken arm. Shalli was close by to make sure the injuries weren't more serious. By the time they made their way down the mountain, the sho'kara was gone.

"You did well, half-meat," Nabbatron said, eye-rings curled in approval.

"Thank you, master," Grey said, accepting permission to sit down in the cooking area between the two largest cabins. Many in the camp looked relieved, but not Grey. He was tired, and hurt, and could not shake off a persistent sense of doom.

* * * * * *

One part to go. The Voice of Sherra.