A Planet For Emily

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Suzanne dreamt of being carried by giant, grey spiders through a concrete cavern. She turned her head to see Rods, her mother and Eve all in the far distance yelling something at her. What were they yelling and why couldn’t she go to them? She did not like being carried by spiders, she thought in a detached way. Then she woke, her head throbbing, on a rough mattress inside a cell. It was a long concrete box with a high ceiling and one end closed off by a metal-framed, wire door. Beyond that was a plain access corridor. She could hear honking and hooting and, somewhere not far off to her right, a creature growling. Growling? Suzanne had heard such sounds in the immersive movies she saw, but never in real life. But where was she? She got up, unsteadily. There was a pan of water fixed to the door with a small hole in the wire above it so that someone could pour water into it without opening the door.

Suzanne sniffed it, then decided she did not have any choice and drank it by scooping it up with her hands.

“Hello, is anybody there!” In the few seconds she had been awake, thanks to vague dreams of being carried by grey creatures, she had a horrible suspicion about where she might be. Sam and Nod would have only gone to this trouble for a big reward, and Suzanne could think of only one planet she had been to with Rods where yet another refugee from Earth Station would be worth anything – the Oid planet. For the moment, at least, there was nothing to be lost by making some noise. “Hello!”

Her repeated calls drew assorted grunts and a tweet or two from further down the corridor. The growling she could hear turned into a full roar and some creature banged against its cell door.

“I’m being held in an animal pen,” Suzanne realised indigently, “as if I’m a dog or a cat or something.”

Eventually, a door opened down the corridor to her left and something could be heard pacing slowly up the corridor, each footfall followed by a click. Then it appeared at the front of her cell; a gangling, grey figure with an inane grin and inevitable tattered leather hat, jacket and breeches. Suzanne recoiled, almost tripping on the edge of the mattress. She had expected that an Oid would appear but she had only seen them on screens during her first visit to the planet. The first live, in the flesh Oid was almost twice her height and stared intently at her. After staring for a few moments, the creature banged the wire door with both hands – to Suzanne it seemed as if the wire barrier almost bent inwards – put one hand over its mouth, repeated the banging and hand sequence and then left, each pace accompanied by a click, as if its knee caps popped out at each step.

She sat on her mattress and allowed herself a moment of despair. Sam and Nod had stitched her up; had dropped her in a deep, dark hole with no way out. She hoped that Rods would, at least, have a quiet word with the pair and perhaps make good on his promises concerning troublesome people and The Max’s airlock. But that did not help her much now. She thought for a moment then fumbled in her pockets. Nod and Sam and the Oids might have searched her, but if so they had not bothered to take away her knife disguised as a souvenir. She took it out with relief, then after looking around – she was in an animal pen, so no cameras that she could see – she unsheathed the knife and tested the edge. Suzanne knew how to open an artery, so she had a way out. But that was the end game. She thrust the piece of composite material back into her pocket, not quite believing that she was thinking of suicide, and examined her cell. Suzanne had no idea how she could get out, or what she would do if she got out, but it was better than lying around waiting for her fate.

Suzanne did not know she had been drugged for more than two days and that Rods and her family had worked out what had happened and were on their way to the planet.

“For the last time you ladies cannot go into the Ord port,” Rods told Joselyn and Eve Clark. They had confronted him in the wardroom of the Max inbound to the Oid planet. The Clarks had insisted on coming along which was fine with Rods provided they did not get off the ship or even show themselves at the portholes. “You’ll just make it worse for everyone, including Suzanne. I’m the only one with any real chance of surviving out there, and that’s only with Igor backing me up every step of the way.”

“Backing up, it’s what I do,” said Igor.

“I’ve got my bullet proof vest on, my trusty Heckler & Koch with a silencer down my trousers, a sawn-off pump action shotgun inside my coat, another full length to point at obstructive individuals, plus a cattle prod and cosh for close encounters and grenades in Igor’s back pack for real parties. And I’m in a bad mood. They can try to mess with me and see how far they get. Igor here has Mr Glock and his machine gun for which we’ve managed to find more ammunition. As recent events have shown the machine gun does wonders in discouraging undesirables. If and when we have to use any of this stuff, you ladies will be in the way.”

“Are you sure?” said Joselyn, wringing her hands. “It’s just not right to sit around and do nothing.”

“Suzanne came back for me. I should get her,” said Eve.

“Ladies I admire your spirit but in this case, Joselyn, it is right to do nothing and Eve, correct me if I’m wrong, but I didn’t see you use Mr .. um .. the Sig Saur which Suzanne gave you in the mound.”

“You mean that little gun? Nothing really came close enough, I guess.”

“You’re not built for this stuff, trust me. You’ll do a better job standing by to patch up the wounded which may include me. Hoss, you know what to do?”

The first mate of the Dawn Treader had stayed aboard, not having the heart to go with the other colonists after losing his partner, and had been trusted with limited control while Rods had been fever ridden. The arrangement had been allowed to continue while Rods busied himself with the affairs of the new colony in which he now had a considerable stake. He had also volunteered to go and Rods thought he would be a useful hand but three might be too many, and he needed someone to ensure that the remaining Clarks did not do anything stupid while he was off the ship.

“Wait three days, engines ticking over,” Hoss said.

“I’ll be in radio contact and you’ll be able to track Igor most places in the colony. But if I’m not back by then assume the worst because it’ll be true. Mind you, Igor should make it back, at least. They’d need a rocket launcher at close range for him. The real test will be night times. I’m not sleeping anywhere out there, so I’ll come back here.”

“I just don’t know how to thank you,” said Joselyn.

“It’s not a matter of thanking me. I can’t leave Suzanne to her fate - pain though she sometimes is. Wish me luck.”

“The best of luck,” said Joselyn.

“Good luck,” said Eve.

“Luck,” said Hoss.

“Luck,” said Igor.

“Not you, you’re backing me up.”

“Backing up, it’s what I do,” said Igor.

Rods had stepped off his ship before at the Oid planet but had never gone beyond his section of the dock. One of the creatures came to meet Rods and Hoss, as always happened, and the Earthmen questioned the creature about the badge through translators they wore as headsets. To human ears, Oid speech sounded much like a trombone playing.

“Oomph! Oomph! Oomph! I don’t know the badge.”

“There were people using that badge on the docks doing business two days ago.”

“Oomph! Oomph! Oomph! I don’t know about others. All I know is that it’s not my clan’s badge.”

Rods and Igor moved on while Hoss distracted the creature by bargaining over some goods in The Max’s hold.

At the end of the dock area two guards manned a barrier that previous generations of Earth people would have considered similar to the metal detector barriers at airports. Rods suspected that the two creatures were the entire dock security detail for that shift. As almost the only visitors were the occasional human trader, it was hardly a busy port. Fortunately, the clan that loosely controlled the dock was not the one they were interested in, so he had no need to offend them. The guards would also be bored and underpaid, or so Rods hoped.

He looked at the Oids, bigger than the others he had seen and dressed mostly in white, and they looked at him. What was a human doing at the barrier? The trader produced a gold coin, a one-ounce, mint-condition Krugerrand, one of several picked up as part of a deal near Zard space. He had polished them up for the occasion. Gold was a universal language and, to judge by the gleam in the eyes of the two guards, they spoke it well. He produced another and laid one coin on tables on either side of the unbarred entry gate. He produced the shotgun, pointing up, finger close to the trigger. The creatures grabbed the coins, eyed the shotgun and waved toward the main hall.

“Okay in,” whispered Rods into his mike.

The main hall was a large, dimly lit space with lots of columns made out of local stone holding up the roof. Rods had found a basic map which Hoss was now looking at back on the ship.

“Keep straight,” said Hoss.

They passed another Oid scanning a stack of the small containers favoured by that race with a device clutched in one paw, who looked up in horror at the interlopers. Further off in the terminal, two Oids who looked down and out also spotted the two humans. After a moment’s hesitation they moved to a stack of containers beside a point where the Earthman and Igor were expected to come. The two Oids thought they were moving stealthily but to the Rods it looked like a pair of giraffes galloping across the hall.

“Past these containers,” he whispered to Igor. “Two Oids. Present right. Do not, repeat not fire your weapon unless I give the command.”

“Not fire until command, got it,” said Igor.

They came in line with the stack of containers. Rods checked to his left. A few Oids down the hall had turned to watch this byplay. At least they had an audience. He took a step to his left front just as the party from the Maxwell reached the edge of the containers then whirled and aimed his shotgun at an Oid with a club raised, ready to strike. The second Oid, standing just behind the first, was holding a bag. Igor, a fraction of a second behind him, presented his weapon at waist height. Rods racked his shotgun for effect. The Oids froze. Rods remembered watching an old film where the protagonists duelled with weapons called light sabers. In the films, the light sabers had been used to deflect the equivalent of bullets, but Rods doubted that they would be of much use against a good, old-fashioned shotgun. The Oid lowered his club, grinning inanely. His mate dropped the bag.

The two groups faced off for a moment before Rods took a step back and lifted his shotgun.

“Have a nice day,” he said into the translator.

They moved on, with Igor keeping his weapon on the creatures for a few paces.

A little further on, two more Oids, a little better dressed than the last pair and carrying batons loomed up in front of the party from The Maxwell.

“We represent the government,” Rods heard the translator unit say. “Do not ..”

At the word ‘government’ Rods lifted his shotgun and fired over their heads, the sound echoed through the hall. The guards looked up but did nothing. Igor brought his weapon around, aiming from the hip. The two creatures looked at the human and robot for a few seconds – it seemed like an eternity to Rods – and moved aside.

“You government gentleman have a nice day.”

Rods and Igor moved on, as the human glanced around. Everyone in the hall was looking at them, but there was no point in trying to sneak around or pretend they were there on a goodwill visit. It was better that everyone got the message from the start that messing with the human delegation would have consequences. Rods strode on as if he owned the place, Igor trailed along looking from side to side and occasionally over his shoulder as he was programmed to do, open trench coat flapping.

Beyond the hall was a wide, paved street. Oid architecture seemed to run to concrete one or two story buildings with narrow windows, in varying states of repair. Above was the dome enclosing the whole station which let in the light of the system’s sun. It was past noon and still tolerably bright. Rods soon realised that he was in a shopping district and all the shops displayed clan crests. They checked along one side of the street then the other, collecting a number of idle Oids who, fortunately, kept their distance, until they found the crest described by Sam and Nod. Rods took a deep breath, pushed open the door and walked in, to be met by another horrified stare of what he took to the store-clerk cum receptionist. Two larger Oids, the store security, appeared from the back.

“Block the door, Igor. Back into it.”

The robot duly put his back to the door, just in time to stop the new, local followers of the pair from The Maxwell coming through. The business had one small window onto which a couple of Oids pressed their faces in an effort to see what the funny Earthman and his mechanical friend were doing inside. Otherwise, the establishment reminded Rods of some computer repair places he had been in on his travels, with equipment strewn over the laminated benchtops and shelves. A dusty couch, large enough to fit a pair of Oids filled one wall.

“Nice decor,” commented Rods.

“Oomph, oomph,” snapped the Oid behind the counter. “What business do you have here,” said the translator.

“A girl was kidnapped from a ship two days ago and bought by an Oid called Azar. The girl’s family..”

“Oomph, oomph... Don’t know about.. Oomph, oomph.. any girl oomph, oomph now get out.”

“This Azar was using your clan’s badge. Surely you’d want to know about this creature using your badge for an unauthorised transaction.”

“The transaction was authorised.”

“You do know about this girl? Her family would like her back”.

The Oid took a few moments to respond, perhaps in part because both Rods’ translator and the Oid had trouble with the word family. When he did respond it was with an impatient gesture to the two guards, who stepped forward. No one on the base seemed to have guns, which was fortunate, but they did have batons which they raised. Rods brought up his shotgun and racked it again, ejecting the shell he had previously loaded. Igor aimed his machine gun. The guards hesitated.

“That is a matter for the clan chief,” said the Oid at the counter.

“Where is this clan chief? I should speak to him”

“The girl does not concern me and does not concern you.”

“Let the clan chief tell me this. Just tell me where I can find him.”

“His house does not concern you.”

“So, he is in a house at this base? Where is the house?”

“That does not concern you.” The Oid’s voice deepened several base levels, so that the ground seemed to tremble, “now go!”

Figuring he had got as far as he was ever going to get, Rods backed towards the door while Igor opened it then waved a sparking cattle prod at the small crowd of curious Oids outside. They moved away and the human and robot team were out on the street with the human wondering what to do next. To head the way they had been going seemed a tolerable idea for the moment. A few minutes further on they encountered an Oid, fat and short for his species, wearing an apron.

“Oomph, oomph.. welcome humans, hee, hee!”

‘Hee, hee?’ thought Rods, maybe the translator was still tuning itself to the dialect.

“Oomph, oomph, oomph... I understand you are seeking a female of your species hee, hee?”

That was fast. The first time he had mentioned anything about Suzanne was in the shop less than a minute ago, but maybe everyone knew about the female and guessed what he was doing roaming around downtown Oidsville.

“Yes, that’s right,” said Rods cautiously. “Do you know of this female?”

“Of course, hee, hee, I will take you to her.”

Rods was not about to fall for that one. The creature was far too friendly. But if the encounter was handled correctly he might glean a few snippets of information.

“Lead the way,” he said, then muttered to Igor, “it’s a trap”.

“A trap? I go in front?”

“Not yet. When I say.”

The pair walked with their new friend further down the street and then turned left into a side street on what proved to be a grid-like street plan. Every now and then the Oid looked across and down at Rods, still grinning inanely. The human was reminded of a ventriloquist’s dummy, but at least the Oid idlers were keeping their distance.

“There are clan houses on this base.”

“Of course. Up the road we were on – the main road, hee, hee.”

“Are there many roads under this dome?”

“Outside this town, just one, good road, hee, hee.”

They came to a store with a patched up facade and grimy windows.

Just the place for a valuable kidnapped human, thought Rods.

“Go in, hee, hee,” said the Oid gesturing.

“Oh no, sunshine, after you.” Rods wondered what the translator had made of the world sunshine.

The Oid gestured again. Rods bowed and indicated the door.

“It would be very bad manners of me to go first. I insist.”

The Oid stamped his foot and indicated the door again. Rods bowed and gestured at it. He reasoned that the Oids undoubtedly waiting for him inside were unlikely to want him dead or even much damaged. That was a part of the reason he had survived this long. Alive he had value; dead he was a sanitation issue. It was not necessary for his Oid guide to go in first, but it would be one less complication in what would undoubtedly be a frenetic confrontation. Two Oid idlers were watching this byplay from down the street, the rest apparently having decided that it was all too far off the main drag for interest.

“You will follow me?” asked the Oid after a time.

“I will. I’ll be right behind you.”

The Oid pushed the door open cautiously, said something which the translator did not repeat, then passed sideways through it, as if he dared not open it wide.

“You go first,” Rods told Igor, remembering to mask his translator. “There is an Oid just to the left of the door and probably another behind, maybe two. Use the stunner.” The stunners had been reset to suit Oids. Rods hoped the voltage was right – he did not want to drop bodies until he had to – but he had no way of knowing. “Do not fire unless I give the order.”

“I go first?” said Igor, brightly.

“Yes, you’re first.”

The robot stepped up to the door, pushed it open and was immediately hit by the Oid equivalent of a Taser, with six thin wires attaching themselves to his coat and vest. Igor, who had been designed to be unaffected by such shocks, jabbed with his probe. Rods could not see what the robot jabbed but the result was a satisfying cry and a thud. The trader followed his robot through the door. Three Oids were still on their feet, not counting the guide who had stepped out of the fight. One was hitting Igor with a long rubber cosh or blackjack for precisely no result. The robot responded by running full tilt into the creature, arms outstretched and extended. Surprised, and caught in the mid-section the Oid went over with a shattering crash. Rods ducked a clumsy, overhead blow with a club from the Oid closest to him – he suspected their opponents were not trained fighters – and kicked his assailant on the equivalent of the left shin. The creature yelped and grabbed at its leg, bringing its head forward. Rods grabbed the cosh from his coat pocket and thumped the presented head. The blow, which would have felled a human, made the Oid yelp and hop out of range. The third Oid had also tried hitting Igor but gave up when Rods pointed the shotgun at him and racked it. No translation was necessary.

Rods kicked the door shut, grabbed a spike – an over-sized nail from one of Igor’s compartments – and pushed it into the floor, made of some kind of wood, in front of the door. Igor stood on it, which meant that it would require a serious effort to get it out again, and the door was jammed shut.

“Let’s all go and talk in your back room,” Rods said into the translator. That other one still breathing? Leave him where he is.”

The back room was as dusty, unloved and unfurnished as the front one. Rods suspected the place had not been used in a long time. Whatever. As far as he was concerned the place was excellent as he was able to jam the door with another spike and there was a back door down a short corridor which opened outwards, so it could be jammed from the other side. Perfect.

“Now that we have a little privacy,” Rods said “we can do some show and tell. You don’t have the girl, do you?”

“Oomph, oomph - no,” said the guide, crestfallen

“I believe she is at the Clan chief’s place, is that right?”

The creature spread its hands – a gesture that reached across species.

“We know as much as you.”

“Okay, where would the house of this clan chief be?” Rods held up his PA unit in projection mode so that the clan symbol was displayed on the wall.

The would-be guide uttered something like a low moan, looked at Rods then back at the symbol.

“You know this clan? Where can I find them?”

“Oomph, oomph, oomph... You don’t want to find this clan.”

“If I want career advice, I’ll ask for it,” said Rods. Whatever the translator made of that statement it got the point across. His would be guide shrugged. “If you don’t want this conversation to become unpleasant just tell me where I can find this house.”

Again his guide shrugged.

“Follow the main road we were on, hee, hee.” The hee hees were distinctly subdued. “Long walk up the hill. Clan symbol is on the front. It is the only place this girl would be. But there will be guards, lots of guards and they will be ready for you.”

Rods had hardly expected to surprise anyone. He probed. The building was maybe an hour’s walk for an Oid but it was possible to get transport, in the form of the small electric cars Rods had seen. There was a car rental business desperate enough to deal with anyone, even a human and a robot, back by the space port.

After some minutes of questioning it was clear that their would-be assailants had told them all they knew, which wasn’t much. Rods said, “wait here” and marched through the back door, Igor tailing along behind. Once outside they jammed the door by driving two more spikes into the floor and walked away.

The back alley was an unpaved space between buildings but the Oids didn’t seem to use them and another alley branched off it in the direction they wanted to go. Perfect. Just as they were about to turn into the second alley they heard loud oompahing from in front of the disused shop.

“Come out humans,” the translator said. “we know you’re in there. We are from the government.”

Wondering how long it would take for the ‘government’ operatives to send someone to cover the back entrance, Rods peered around the corner of the alley. Sure enough, two large Oids with clubs rolled up to stand by the door they had just left. With any luck it would take them a long while to sort out what had happened. Rods and Igor left. They had a car to rent.