Steven Harper - Trickster

Food was another problem. At first it had been fairly plentiful, if heavy on the protein. Lately there had been less, and mealtimes were also irregular. Martina was almost never full. Every so often, the Deltas handed out sweet snack cakes, and the unaccustomed sugar sent Martina soaring-until she crashed back to earth a few minutes later. She craved starchy foods almost constantly. Bread slathered with butter, mashed potatoes swimming in gravy, pasta peeking out from heavy tomato sauce, and even plain boiled rice danced in her dreams and made her stomach rumble.

Days-if they could be called that-were spent in a variety of ways. The Alphas spent a great deal of time in mind-numbing labor such as hand-stitching robes or scrubbing floors with stiff brushes or washing clothes in great tubs. Other times the Alphas sat through meditation exercises, though these came easily to Martina and the other experienced Silent. A certain amount of time was set aside for study, mostly of Dreamer Roon's book. The more Martina read of his work, however, the more convinced she became that the man had no idea what he was talking about. His stories about Irfan Qasad and Daniel Vik were ludicrous. True, no one questioned the fact that Vik was one of the greatest fiends in all history. After all, the man had been a blatant racist who had kidnapped his own child away from his wife, collaborated with terrorists, and done his best to wipe all Silent from the face of Bellerophon. But Martina seriously doubted that the taint of his genetic material coursed through the bodies of all Silent, causing their impure N-waves. For one thing, Martina herself had been born before the founding of the Bellerophon colony and couldn't possibly be touched by the "taint" of Daniel Vik. The same applied to Keith, for that matter.

And then there was the Confessional. Martina hated it. Every moment she sat in the chair listening to Alphas and Deltas shout "Impure" at her was pure torture. She told herself over and over that there was nothing wrong with her, that she was not impure, that the peccadillos they wrung from her were nothing more than normal human behavior. Lately, however, she left the Confessional feeling wrung out, exhausted, and filthy. If the circle was supposed to cleanse her, it was failing miserably. Martina had considered mentioning this to Delta Maura, but had almost as quickly decided against it. Something told her that confessing any such thing in this place would be a fatal error.

But Keith appeared to be loving it.

Through the little snatches of conversation she had managed to steal with him, Martina had gathered that Keith wasn't completely well on a mental level. His previous owners had apparently been hard on him, and there were… other factors.

Martina stole a glance across the sewing circle at Keith. His forehead was wrinkled with concentration as he worked. His Delta leaned down and put a gloved hand on his shoulder. Keith stiffened and momentary touch of fear crossed his face. The expression was familiar, and a long-buried memory stirred within Martina. All at once she was back on the slave ship, still shivering with cold leftover from cryo-sleep. A slaver named Feder was herding her family down a long corridor that smelled of cold metal. The Weavers-Dad, Mom, Evan, Keith, and Martina-were the last ones to leave the colony ship, and Feder stayed right behind them. The new slave shackles were heavy on Martina's wrist and ankle.

Feder, a dark-haired man with a long nose and thin lips, put his hand around Keith's shoulder as they walked. Keith tried to shrug him off, but Feder only tightened his grip. The smile that crossed his face made Martina feel cold and scared inside. She wondered how Keith felt.

"What's the matter, kid?" Feder asked. "You don't like friendly people?"

Before Keith could respond, Dad's hand shot out and grabbed Feder's wrist. "Don't touch my son," he said in a low, deadly voice.

Feder's free hand darted to his waist. Dad collapsed the floor, screaming in pain. His bands glowed blue. Mom dropped beside him, wanting to help but not knowing what to do. Martina stared with wide eyes, scared and uncertain. She had never heard her father scream like that. Evan began to cry, and Keith looked dazed. Dad's screaming continued for a long time, then abruptly stopped. The blue glow on his bands faded.

"Touch me again, you bastard," Feder told Dad in a voice that carried up and down the passenger bay, "and I won't shock just you, hey? I'll shock your wife-or your kids. Now get up. No talking."

Mom and Dad slowly got to their feet. Martina's throat was thick and she stifled sobs. Around them, other slavers herded the other members of the Real People toward the large double doors at the other end of the passenger bay. Evan and his family were at the very end of the line. Bare feet shuffled and padded on the cool metal deck. Feder walked in front of Martina and her family with his arm draped around Keith's shoulders, as if the two were old friends. The look of helpless outrage on Dad's face mirrored the way Martina felt. Evan was obviously trying not to cry again, and Rebecca took his hand.

"I read some of your files before we woke you up," Feder said to Keith in a bright, friendly tone. "The whole ship is from Australia back on Earth, but you bunch call yourselves the Real People, hey?"

Keith didn't respond. The muscles on Feder's arm tightened. "Hey?" he repeated.

"Yeah," Keith said, barely audible.

"A great idea," Feder said. "Starting fresh on another planet, re-establishing tribal ways. Too bad it's not going to work out."

Silence. The arm tightened again. "I guess," Keith mumbled.

"What's your name, kid?"

Pause. "Utang," Keith said, giving the Real People name he had chosen for himself only a few months before the People boarded the colony ship. Martina rarely thought of Keith as Utang, even though Keith-Utang-used it regularly.

"Your ship's behind the times, kid," Feder said. "Now that we got slipships, these old slower-than-light heaps are just about junk. Barely worth salvaging. But people-now that's different. People never devalue, hey?"

"I guess."

"You wouldn't have wanted Pelagosa anyway," Feder continued. "It was colonized by the KLO Syndicate and the Freebanders four, five hundred years ago. They're not taking immigrants. But don't you worry-we'll find a good home for you. Might even buy you myself, hey? Boss gives us our pick at cost-and-a-quarter. Been saving up for a new cabin boy. What do you think?"

"I–I-" Keith stammered.

Martina's stomach churned. There had to be some way to help her brother, but she couldn't think of anything.

"You don't have to answer, kid," Feder said kindly. "Know why?" He clamped his arm around Keith's neck. Martina heard him gasp and choke. Dad looked ready to leap, bands or no bands, but Rebecca put a hand on his arm and gestured sharply at Martina. Martina felt a stab of guilt. Dad wasn't going to help Keith because he was afraid Feder would shock her. It was her fault Dad couldn't do anything.

"You don't have to answer because you don't have a choice," Feder said. He abruptly spun Keith around to face his family and grabbed Keith's cheeks from behind with one big hand. With a nasty grin, he gave Keith's ear a long, wet lick. Martina wondered why he would do such a thing. Then Feder gave Keith a shove that sent him sprawling.

"Now move your lazy ass!" Feder barked.

Keith waved off Dad's help and got up on his own, ankle and wristbands shining in the ship's harsh lighting. His face was hard, but Martina caught tears at the corners of his eyes. Feder herded them through the double doors into the corridor and from there into a tiny cell with two other families. The cell contained nothing but a few sleeping pallets on the floor and a single sink and toilet in the corner. It all stank of urine and fearful sweat. The coverings on the pallets had clearly not been washed in years. Two round portholes looked out into black, star-strewn space. Feder slammed the door shut, and it locked.