The Ways Between Worlds_Peter Cooper by Larry E. Clarke

Author:Larry E. Clarke [Clarke, Larry E.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-10-12T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 22

Throughout the night the Dumpling sat where she was taken. Without lights she posed a minor hazard to other vessels but that was the least of our worries. At sunrise we were roused by guards and herded topside. A dozen or more warriors with swords drawn foreclosed any hope or resistance.

My own feelings were well expressed by the fear I saw in the eyes of my shipmates. Throughout the night, the battle and the carnage that followed had dominated my thoughts. Ativa-qan had done her best to keep the morale of the crew. She spoke of possible rescue by other vessels, of escaping ashore when we passed near port, of the merciful gods who would surely help us. We tried without success to believe there were some positive or encouraging aspects of our situation.

Here in the daylight, thoughts of "What can we do to survive?" crowded out most everything else. Our captors had, at least removed the corpses they had produced with such efficiency last evening. They had also begun scouring the near by salt clean of blood and bodies.

The figure with the three jagged red chevrons stepped atop a crate to resume the address Seldat and Kettes had disrupted last evening. Every eye followed as the enemy commander stripped back the leather helmet of the uniform. I braced mentally, anticipating merciless alien features but was more thoroughly shocked to see beneath the helmet mounds of copper hair and a strikingly beautiful woman. Not even my revulsion at her actions of last night diminished the fact of her great physical beauty. She was also instantly familiar.

When she spoke I heard not the near universal Neslan but the Threaten language (Arino) into which Leeta had occasionally lapsed. I recalled Leeta's elegant sketches of her people. No doubt she and this demi-goddess/commander were of the same stock.

"Who among you speaks 'the language'? she demanded of the assembled company.

No one made to answer so I began to respond and instantly checked myself. I was far from fluent in Neslan and got only bits and pieces from context of the commander’s Arino. . . but it seemed a small advantage. I was ready grasping for even the slimmest reasons for hope.

"Standard protocol" the commander muttered to a lieutenant.

"I will have each of you tortured until I have an answer" she continued. "Which of you speak 'the language'?"

The only response among the crew was to stir slightly and to look even more grim. They knew they had been asked something but made no reply. Were they faking? playing the same game as I?

"Take that one" she repeated aloud pointing to Hawbash. Three skiffmen stepped forward and dragged him, terrified but un-protesting, out of sight behind the deckhouse.

Seconds later we heard him cry out. OoooWaaaaahOOOOooo.

"I ask again. Who among you speaks 'the language'?" She repeated. "Must I kill another?"

Guided mostly by instinct I said nothing.

"Him" the commander barked and pointed at me.

When two guards drew me from the ranks Dhars protested, grasping my arm to hold me back.

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