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Chapter

Seven

Kethelon City

Kandria watched through the cockpit window as the mottled blur of hyperspace fixed into star-lines, and then finally collapsed into pin pricks of light as the shuttle re-entered realspace. She brought the tiny ship about and the blue, brown, and white globe of the planet Eechen consumed the whole of the cockpit window. Eechen was a cold world, much like her native Rendoa Minor, and Kandria was looking forward to being able to spend some time out of her environmental suit.

The idea brought a smile to her face. {If the Governor gets promoted, I won't ever have to wear that hideous suit again,} she thought. Though Kieran O'Rourke was a career officer and was still technically an active duty member of the Hegemonic Armed Forces, Kandria was a civilian aid, and detested having to wear a military environmental suit to survive the temperatures on Dunar. Since she was going to be bar-hopping anyways, in search of talented scoundrels, she had packed some fashionable, rather skimpy outfits to enjoy the near-freezing temperatures of Eechen.

Ruulraar, wake-up!

Her thoughts suddenly penetrated into his mind and startled him awake as if he had heard a gunshot. He had huddled up in a corner of the cockpit and napped as they traveled through hyperspace. Despite his fur coat, the Leosian did not share Kandria's love of the cold, and since she had adjusted the shuttle's temperature to suit _her_tastes, Ruulraar had dug out a blanket from the shuttle's emergency survival kit.

"Take us in to Kethelon City while I go change," she ordered as she got up from the pilot's chair and moved towards the aft compartment. "It's all automated once you acknowledge flight control's hail, so even you should be able to handle it," she added.

Ruulraar glared at her, but said nothing and slumped down in the pilot's chair. He wrapped the blanket around himself.

"Shuttle_Ice Star_," the comm system chirped after a few minutes, "This is Eechen planetary flight control, do you require automated landing assistance?"

Ruulraar leaned in towards the panel and pressed the send button, "Yesss, automated guidanssse pleassse," he spoke tentatively.

"Great, a Leosian" he heard the flight controller grumble, it sounded as if he was trying to cover his microphone with his hand, "Why is it always me who has to deal with the slave pilots?"

Ruulraar scowled, but did not respond to the flight controller's comments.

"What is your landing destination, shuttle Ice Star?"

"Kethelon City," Ruulraar responded.

"Ok, listen up," the flight controller said with obvious annoyance in his voice, "I'm going to send a navigational override request to your ship's computer. There will be two boxes on the main display screen, you just have to touch the one that says 'Accept'... That's going to be the one on the..."

"Ruulraar knowsss how to read," he interrupted the flight controller.

"Beautiful, so just hit the 'Accept' button, and you'll be on your way."

Ruulraar did as instructed, and the ship adjusted its course slightly, towards the southern hemisphere. It was another fifteen minutes until the shuttle landed, and another ten after that until Kandria was ready. She led the way through the star port, Ruulraar following closely behind with her luggage, as they headed for a hotel.

The massive KGC starliner circled the Kethelon City star port in a holding pattern for an hour, before slowly settling into its berth, like some sort of gigantic dog laying down for a nap. Kiole awoke, rather grudgingly, when a final debarkation announcement came over the ship's intercom. He slowly made his way to the ship's armory to pick up his weapons before leaving. Unlike the KGC Trade Corridor, where he had departed from, the Martian Hegemony allowed its first and second class citizens to carry firearms and other weapons for 'self-protection'.

"Enkal, Kiole," he stated as he handed a claim slip to the clerk at the armory desk. He rubbed his bleary eyes, and leaned heavily against the counter as he waited for the clerk to fetch his belongings.

"Here you are, sir" the clerk said as he brought a tray with Kiole's pistols, gunbelt, and his pilfered carbine over. Picking up a note and reading it quickly, he added, "Oh, it seems a Ms. Offen also left some items for you..."

"Huh?" Kiole asked as he strapped on his belt, still half-asleep, and very hungover.

The clerk rummaged around for a few moments and then produced an envelope, a bottle of water, and a packet of detoxifier pills. "Apparently she knew you would be needing these," he said sliding the latter two items towards Kiole.

Kiole cracked a grin, "Thanks bud." He stuffed the envelope in his coat pocket, and tore the packet of medicine open with his teeth as he walked off. Downing the pills with a gulp of water from the bottle, he staggered down the gangplank and towards the customs scanning area. As he waited in line, he finished off the bottle of water and reached back into his pocket for the envelope. Opening it revealed a few large denomination bills of Martian Dollars, and a note from Viper.

Enkal,

If you're at all mortal, you'll need these as much as I did! (a smiley face was drawn after this sentence) How much did we drink last night? Anyways, even though you're too stubborn to ever ask me for it, I figured you'd need some cash, since you're usually broke. (another smiley face) Do yourself a favor, and get a decent room.

There's a lot going on in this sector, so you should be able to find some work. You might want to check out a bar called the Drowning Pony. It's in the industrial quarter of the city, pretty rough area, but the Ponyis a haven for Eechenan activists, and pretty much anybody else trying to carry on less than legal activities.

Anyways, take care of yourself, if you need me, you have my comm ID.

-Love

Viper

(A kiss imprint from her neon-green lipstick followed her name.)

Kiole smiled and stuffed the note into one of his trouser pockets. As short as the note was, by the time he finished it, he was only a few places in line away from the customs scanner. The lines for Humans and other first class citizens moved much faster than those for lower caste species in the Hegemony. Even his newly acquired carbine was perfectly legal for a Human to own and carry, and since that, his pistols, and the clothes on his back were about the only things Kiole had to his name, he passed through customs without any trouble.

The first thing Kiole did was to find himself a base of operations. Splitting the difference between Viper's suggestion and his own instinct to stretch his money as far as possible, he found a room at a moderately priced hotel a few blocks from the starport. Though it looked dingy, it was clean, and he had his own shower and toilet in his room. He paid for a few nights in advance, and then headed out into the city to get a feel for things.

His first impression was how cold it was. Despite the fact that it was mid-afternoon, summer, and the sun was shining, he guessed the temperature was probably around forty degrees Fahrenheit. Of course the Eechena were accustomed to it, and many strolled around in short-sleeve shirts and pants, with their ample, coarse body hair covering the skin of their exposed flesh. Humans and other offworlders were dressed more like Kiole was, with long shirts and pants, and heavy coats. Spotting a second-hand clothing store along one of the avenues he strolled down, he decided to pop in and pick up at least a sweater before the sun went down, and things got really cold.

Though Viper would probably gag at his lack of concern for fashion, he was able to find a few warm sweaters made of some local fabric similar to wool. He also picked up a few extra shirts and pants so he wouldn't be wearing the same thing day in and day out. He even found a cheap, if somewhat mangled, rucksack to toss the clothes in as he continued his recon of the city.

From what Kiole could surmise, Kethelon was a fairly modern city, built since the Eechena had discovered space travel, and had probably been designed and settled specifically around interstellar trade. The city was located on a peninsula just south of the equator, making it easier for large, heavily loaded ships to break free of the planet's gravity well. The city ringed the gigantic artificial crater which was the starport. The commercial and more affluent residential areas were located on the east-end of the city, this was the area Kiole had exited into from the starport. The industrial sector of the city, along with the poorer residential neighborhoods, were located to the west-end of the starport, where the large cargo vessels docked. The city was set-up in such a fashion so that the prevailing winds created by Eechen's retrograde rotation would blow any pollution and smog from the industrial sector away from the commercial area. A maglev train linked the whole city together, and since land vehicles were therefore unnecessary to get from one section of town to the other, the streets were strictly for pedestrian traffic.

By the time Kiole had deciphered the lay-out of the city, and made it over towards the industrial sector, the sun was beginning to set. The final rays bathed the gleaming glass and metal towers of the commercial district in shades of red, orange, and gold. Looking through the smog from his vantage point in the industrial area, the sun appeared to be a pale sea-green, though in reality, Fiai was a yellow star. Though oddly morbid, due to the pollution, it was at the same time quite lovely.

"Ruulraar does not think thisss isss the type of plassse where we will find the sssort of people we need," he shouted at Kandria over the noise of the dance hall. He cringed as the persistent, thumping bass of the music assaulted his sensitive feline ears.

And I think, she responded telepathically instead of trying to talk over the noise, that if I wanted your opinion, I would have given it to you. She turned around and saw him rather pathetically holding his paws over his ears, and looking completely miserable. She rolled her eyes, If you don't like it, then you can go wait outside in the cold. I haven't had a vacation in a long time, so I'm going to enjoy myself for at least one night while we're here.

"Ruulraar will wait outssside," he shouted back when offered a less torturous alternative. It was only marginally colder outside anyways, as the Eechena preferred keeping their bars and dance halls at around the same icy temperature that Kandria favored. If he was going to freeze, he decided he might as well freeze in silence.

Fine,_she scowled, _Just remember I have your tracking implant turned on. Not giving him anymore thought, she made her way through the crowd towards the dance floor, where a fashionably dressed Eechenan male motioned her to dance with him.

Ruulraar headed for the closest exit, but was stopped by one of the club's bouncers. The bouncer was a Leosian slave, like Ruulraar, except that he had been altered with cybernetic implants. The left half of his skull was completely covered by these devices, an artificial eye, data ports, sensory devices, and both of his ears. His right, organic eye, was unfocussed and stared blankly ahead.

"You cannot exit this way without your master," his voice was cold, hollow, and mechanical, lacking the elongated 's' sounds that typified Leosian speech. "Wait for your master through that exit," with his mechanical right arm, fitted with a stun blaster on the forearm, the bouncer pointed at another door towards the back of the club.

Ruulraar obliged, and made his way through the crowd to the back exit. He looked back at the bouncer, and shivered, realizing that he very well could have ended up as the same kind of soulless, bio-mechanical monster. He shivered again at the thought that he still could, if O'Rourke ever decided to sell him off.

The door opened out to an alleyway on the side of the club which was cordoned off with a chain-link fence, some twenty five feet high, at either end of the alley. The air was crisp and very cold, hovering just above freezing, but at least there was no wind in the narrow alley. Some thoughtful person, probably one of the slaves working in the club, had set an old metal drum out in the alley, and filled it with some kind of combustible material, which was creating a decent size fire. There were several other slaves huddled around the blaze, three other Leosians, an insectoid Podanche, a Mohtehran, and two amphibian Droedeans, who looked to be on the verge of freezing to death. A single Sloerillan leaned up against the fence away from the fire, the only one of the slaves that was comfortable in the arctic climate.

Ruulraar went over and sat down next to the other Leosians, speaking his name. The others all spoke his name, honoring him in so doing. Each, in turn, informed him of their own name, and he likewise spoke each of their names to honor them. It was one of the few customs that the Leosians had preserved despite the near total erasure of their culture and language. Leosians believed that a being's name carried power with it, and to not speak it was not only disrespectful, but denied that being power. It was also the Leosians' way of slighting their masters without their knowing, by not speakingtheir names. Most Martians and other slave-owners in the Hegemony simply assumed that the Leosians' odd speech patterns, such as referring to themselves in the third person, and lack of pronouns was due to their 'feeble mindedness' and inability to fully comprehend an 'advanced' language such as Martian. It wasn't much, but every time a Leosian denied his master's name, it gave him a little boost of morale.

Ruulraar listened intently to the other Leosians for hours as they conversed. He had been owned by David O'Rourke since he was a small cub, and since he was the only slave that O'Rourke kept, he hardly ever had contact with other Leosians. Whenever he did encounter other Leosians, he was always eager to listen and learn about his people.

One of them was quite old, his mane gone gray with age. He told them a tale from when he was a cub about a group of slaves who fled from the Martian Hegemony with some sympathetic Humans and other upper class species. According to 'Gray Mane', as the he had called himself, his mother had been taken as the slave of a Verisian who had fallen in love with her. They had then met others who had fallen in love with their slaves, and still others who simply felt that slavery was wrong. The group eventually gathered together enough resources and people to acquire a colony ship to leave the Hegemony, and they headed for the Thladian Commonwealth, where slavery was outlawed. The Verisian and Gray Mane's mother had tried to buy him back to take him with them, but his owner would not sell him. They did, however, tell him the name of the world they fled to, in case he should ever gain his freedom. The world was called Feriod Four, a lush and verdant planet on the other side of the galaxy, far away from the Hegemony.

When he was finished, the other two poked fun at his story. "Gray Mane tellsss dreamsss," one of them jibed, "no Human would ever help a ssslave."

"No, it isss true!" Gray Mane insisted, "And sssomeday Gray Mane will go there!"

"Nothing but dreamsss," the other young Leosian agreed with the first. "Now, if Gray Mane isss done telling ssstoriesss, Erraal will have dreamsss of Erraal'sss own," he said laying down and rolling his back to them to go to sleep, as did the other young Leosian.

"Bah!" Gray Mane waved off their arrogance with his paw, and rolled over to go to sleep as well.

Ruulraar stared into the flames crackling from the top of the metal drum, scratching the short whiskers of his own mane, which was starting to regrow. He thought about the night Kandria had cut it off, and how she had used her mind powers to painfully twist his insides. Then he remembered the Leosian bouncer he had encountered in the club, his vacant eye, and hollow, soulless voice.

"Feriod Four..." Ruulraar said to himself.

Just after sunset, Kiole found The Drowning Pony down a side street, a few blocks away from the western edge of the starport. Stepping down into the dingy pub, he saw where the establishment got its name from. A mural adorned the back wall of a cartoon black horse, struggling to keep it's head above water while it dragged a net full of globes which were pulling it down beneath the waves. Kiole chuckled at the less-than-subtle jibe against the Martian Hegemony and its domination over all the worlds in its area of space.

The weren't very many people in the bar at this hour. Most of the staff were Eechena, but the patrons looked to be pilots and crews from the starport, as they represented a myriad of races from across the Hegemony and elsewhere. Kiole slid into a booth at the back, just beneath the net full of globes on the mural. An older Eechena waitress came over after finishing up her conversation with the bartender.

"Wha'd'ya want?" she asked rather flatly.

"Y'all serve food here, or just booze?" Kiole asked casually, ignoring the rude tone of the waitress.

"Yup we still got food at this hour," she stated, handing him a short menu.

Kiole saw a burger made from a local variety of bovine on the menu. Figuring that to be the safest thing, he ordered it along with a Stevemeister.

About an hour after he first entered the pub, just as he was finishing his meal, the Pony's real patrons began to arrive, and Kiole immediately understood why this pub had become a haven for the Eechenan dissidents. They were mostly laborers, just getting off from their shifts at the surrounding factories and plants in the industrial sector. These were the Eechena who barely made a living, and felt the effects of unregulated commerce and industry, which they could do nothing to change, because they did not have the right to vote. Their sentiments, and a scapegoat for their woes, were preached to them by literati-types, who Kiole figured hopped a tram over from the university, where they, unlike those they preached to, had all day to sit around, read, and ponder the intellectual merits of their movement.

Kiole shook his head. If the demonstrations these intellectuals organized ever came to blows, it would be the laborers who would do the bleeding, not them. Even if they were eventually successful in gaining first class citizenship, it would be the intellectuals who would benefit as the future politicians. More than likely, the Hegemony would simply get so annoyed that they would declare the Eechena a slave race, and drop a few million troops on the planet to crush any resistance.

The only thing that gives you a leg up in this life is a blaster, and a wad of credits, he thought.

Though he didn't agree with them, or even think that their movement had a hope of being successful, Kiole paid attention to their speeches and drunken ramblings. Any place where there was dissent, a person like him could find work. Smuggling, gun-running, protection, all of these services provided by people like Kiole were vital to any type of resistance or underground movement, which is why the presence of Kiole and a few other Humans was tolerated in the pub.

Early on in the evening Kiole lost his seat to a group of factory workers when he got up to use the restroom. Figuring it best not to press the issue, Kiole found a section of wall to lean against for the rest of the evening. He made a mental inventory of all the more vocal Eechena, and all of the offworlders, figuring they would be the most likely ones to have some work for him. He would return tomorrow night, and if any of them were back, he would make some inquiries.

He left the bar well before midnight, wanting to get at least one good night's sleep out of his hotel room. He hopped the maglev back to the east side of the city and got off at the starport, since it was the route to his hotel that he was familiar with. On the way back, he walked past a club, which judging by the fashionably dressed patrons waiting in line outside and the loud music audible even out on the street, was some sort of dance club. Rounding the corner, Kiole walked down the other edge of the building where a chain-link fence blocked off the alley behind the club. Glancing down the alley, he saw a group of slaves crowding around a fire inside of a metal drum. Presumably these were the servants of some of the club's customers.

Kiole scowled, seeing two of the slaves were Droedeans. The desert-dwelling amphibians were huddled together and looking to be nearly frozen dead. If it was one thing that Kiole hated about the Hegemony, and made him ashamed to be a Human, it was slavery. Excesses like this, these poor beings freezing to death while their masters indulged themselves inside, were the type of thing that bred the dissent he saw back at The Drowning Pony.

There was a Sloerillan leaning against the fence, and Kiole went over to him. "Hey, bud, you speak Martian?" he asked the lanky, fur-covered primate.

The Sloerillan merely nodded.

Kiole pulled his rucksack around and rummaged through it, pulling out some of the clothing he had bought earlier in the day. "Could you please give these clothes to those Droedeans over there, they look like they could really use them."

The Sloerillan blinked in astonishment and finally spoke, "Uh, sure."

"Great," Kiole smiled and tossed the bundle of clothes over the top of the fence, where it was easily caught by the lanky Sloerillan. The Sloerillan did as he was asked and took the shirts and sweaters over to the desperately cold amphibians, who gratefully accepted the gifts. He also handed one of the sweaters to a Leosian who was clad only in a pair of shorts and a vest, who also looked to be uncomfortably cold. When the Leosian questioned the Sloerillan, he pointed at the fence and Kiole smiled and waved. The Leosian nodded his head in thanks, and put the garment on.

Kiole continued on to his hotel room, feeling as if he had done at least one worth-while thing today.

Ruulraar looked up to see the Sloerillan's lanky arm holding the piece of clothing that was hovering in front of his face.

"Where did thisss come from?" he asked as he took possession of the thick sweater.

"That Human, over there," he said, pointing to a man standing on the other side of the chain-link fence.

Ruulraar looked over his shoulder to see his benefactor. He was fairly tall for a Human, a little more than six feet, with unkempt, light brown hair, and a short, scraggly beard. He wore a long trench coat, with his hands stuffed in his pockets, wrapping the coat around him. Ruulraar lifted up the sweater slightly and nodded his thanks at the Human. The Human smiled and waved back, and then continued on down the street.

"Why would the Human give clothesss to Ruulraar?" he asked the Sloerillan as he pulled the sweater over his head. It wasn't much, but it did help stave off the terrible cold.

"Dunno," the giant Sloerillan said as he walked back away from the fire, "he said that the Droedeans looked cold and tossed the clothes over the fence at me. I figured you could use one too. Not all Humans are bad," he added as he slumped down against the fence, "just most of 'em."