 
Maisewith

by

Rachael Greeves

ISBN: 978-1-937849-67-2

Copyright © 2020 by Rachael Greeves

This is a work of fiction, the first of three volumes of pure imagination. The names of people and places, the events, conversations, and experiences, in this book, are from the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be used in any form without written permission from the publisher.

Published by Dark Trails Press, an imprint of

Raven Publishing, Inc.,

P.O. Box 2866, Norris, MT

www.ravenpublishing.net

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Prologue

the Colonization of

Planet Costra

"It's time," the highly decorated general announced.

"None too soon. The air quality here on Earth worsens by the day, and sea water is lapping at our doorstep." Narrowing her eyes at her first aide and fleet commander, Jadith Reems continued, "What's the latest from Costra?"

"The coal, copper, and iron mines are in full production, the steel mills are beginning to produce, working around the clock. The Imron Power Plant is expanding as we speak and will be up to full capacity soon."

"Oil?"

"You were right that the planet is a gold mine of power-producing fossils fuels. First in abundance is coal. And they just found oil in the arid central plain. They're sure to find much more of each."

"What about our complex of labs and offices, schools, and prisons in Imron, the capital city?"

"Any part of it not completed today will be by the time you arrive in eighteen Earth years."

"What's the last report on the natives?"

"Subdued. Either pushed back to the forest in the north or in prison camps to be harvested and executed."

"They have certainly not been as difficult to overcome as we anticipated, have they?"

"No. Nothing's easier than conquering a population of pacifists. If they have any weaponry, they never used it. I guess they thought forming a human wall would keep us out. Just made them an easy target for our AA-500 assault shot guns."

Jadith rolled her eyes at the natives' stupidity, and shared a chuckle with her aide. Her fleet commander shook his head either in amazement or disgust.

"Take the children and their nurses on board and place them in the suspended animation chambers immediately—but do it in stages to make sure the kids don't see each other. Jedd and I will board last."

"Is it correct that there are still more than 1,000 paying customers not yet transported?"

Jadith brushed off the question with a wave of her hand. "I've looked at the list. There are none who have anything of significance to contribute to the colony. They'll have to cope like the millions of others who will be left behind. No sense in overpopulating our and destroying our new home as we have on Earth, causing it to become nearly unsustainable. There are inland regions where the hardiest and most persistent should be able to survive."

"Final inspection of the fleet is almost finished. Lift off is scheduled for 1300 hrs. One hour from now."

"Fine. I'll speak to the media. No one needs to know this is our final flight. Let them hope."

"All's well, then. Planet Costra, here we come!" The fleet commander said saluted and bowed slightly before adding, "I think Imron City will impress you."

Chapter 1

I don't remember going through the series of doors and airlocks that lead from a spaceship or landing pod. Nor can I remember any plan or discussion that might precede such an action. But here I stand in a churning sea of white powder—all alone, in the twilight. The pod is gone.

This is far from the first time I've ever "come to" in a strange place with no knowledge of how I got there. What is new is the environment. My nose hairs are freezing. I gather enough saliva to spit and watch it freeze and crack apart immediately in the air. I begin walking—fast. Through the wind-blown snow, I get glimpses of a towering mountain right in front of me. I feel my way to the lea side where the sheer, glassy cliff disappears and reappears in the shifting clouds of fine powder.

At least I'm dressed for the elements. My fur-lined boots come to my knees and the fiber-filled parka and pants made of percalon, a fabric impervious to wind and moisture, envelop me like a cocoon. My gloves are made of the same material with elasticity added. Goggles cover my eyes. Wherever I am, the atmosphere is breathable without an oxygen supply, yet cold enough to freeze my lungs if I don't find shelter soon. My chest already hurts.

I stride through the ankle-deep, fluffy powder along the lea side of the rugged mountain, keeping my face covered with the fur fringe of my parka hood.

The ground drops out from under me, and I'm falling, flailing, whooshing down into deep powder. Regaining my breath, I brush snow from my face. Lying on my back with just my head sticking out, I slowly realize I'm unhurt and out of the tearing wind.

I lie still for a moment, taking inventory. It's not nearly so cold here. I can breathe without it hurting. Whoever left me here gave me some protection from the cold, though they surely couldn't have expected me to survive for long. They couldn't have known I'd fall into a crevasse, or at least I think this is a crevasse. My gaze follows the sheer, icy walls of this chasm so narrow and deep that an occasional dim star blinks through the drifting snow above me.

Lying here, half buried in snow, my breathing evens out, and my heart settles to a near normal rate. I don't seem to be hurt anywhere, and I'm actually feeling comfortably warm inside my insulated clothing.

Someone, Jadith, I would guess, must not have intended that I die, at least not immediately, to give me this much protection. So, what does she expect?

Adopting me when I was just an orphaned newborn, Jedd and Jadith Reems, scientists for the Johnson, Reems, and Newhouse Space Exploration Center, cared for me as their own. But I was apparently a flawed and expensive child. According to them, I had three brain surgeries before the age of five, and two more before I reached ten. I don't know what they were for.

"A complex genetic anomaly," is all they would ever tell me. As if I'm not smart enough to understand. I graduated from Space and Science Basics at age ten. I don't think I'm dumb. But Jadith would only say, "You're okay now. You will do fine in the School for Astronomy, Bionics, and Space Exploration."

When I was six and had just finished the elite Newhouse Primary School, Jadith took my nanny and me, on a long space flight. We were in suspended animation for years, I was told, as we traveled to the planet Costra to attend "better schools," than were available on planet Earth. Jadith said, "A little more schooling and you'll be working for Space X, qualified to join us in the cause."

After graduating from SABSE at age fourteen, I still didn't know what "cause" I was supposed to be pursuing as a member of Space Corps X. And Martina, the company's vice-president and medical examiner, never explained the reason for all the tests she gave me: IQ tests, memory exams, and medical procedures, many while I was anesthetized. When I woke up, she'd ask questions about what I remembered and seemed disappointed in my answers.

I've lost a lot of time in which I don't remember anything. Maybe that's the reason for the tests. When I was ten, Jadith told me I'd have no more surgeries, but I know I've had at least two. Maybe as many as four.

All right, Maisey, are you going to just lie here until you die? I chide myself. Do I have a choice? I try moving my arms and legs and find I can. I know it's impossible to climb out. And if I could there's only wind, ice, and snow up there. So, I wiggle to get my feet under me and push through the deep snow toward the mountain wall.

To my surprise, the dark slit in front of me is not black rock—or ice—but an opening, a fissure, I guess.

I duck into it, and, once inside, I'm able to stand up and still have head room. I follow the narrow passageway. It's much warmer here, and I'm walking on a firm dirt-covered surface. I drag my hands along the walls as a guide, and feel each step carefully, before transferring my weight forward. It's getting darker and warmer as I leave the outdoor light and cold behind me.

As I creep along in total darkness, I automatically close my eyes. Somehow that makes it less scary. When I open them, I see a faint light in the distance. Another opening? But I've been slowly descending as the tunnel floor slants downward. Are my eyes just adjusting? No, there is definitely light ahead of me in the distance. I quicken my pace, and, without warning, my feet slip out from under me and I fall backward, reaching out for something to grab.

The wall is no longer in reach, and I'm sliding. I push against the ground with both hands in an effort to stop my acceleration as the slide steepens. It doesn't work. The floor is smooth, cold, and wet, probably pure ice. Steam rises from below, getting thicker by the second, I close my eyes and hold my breath, prepared to land in a pool of hot water, hoping I won't be boiled alive, but helpless to avoid whatever lies below.

Instead of splashing into an underground hot spring, I slow to a stop. I'm in a large, warm, and humid chamber filled with soft blue-green light.

I toss back my hood, pull off my gloves, and unfasten my parka. The steam emanates from the trickle of water that pools in a natural basin about three meters wide before falling over green rocks and disappearing from sight. I am forced to remove my goggles as they frost over.

The sulfur smell is strong, my eyes burn, and it feels like my throat's closing up. I must get away from it.

Holding my breath, I stride across the large room to where the fog thins and an archway reveals an opening into another room. The light is whiter here, though I can't determine the source. I see three ways out of this chamber and choose the largest opening.

As I walk, I wonder. Will I die of thirst or something else? Will the Pod crew ever find my remains?

Stop it, Maisy, I chide myself. You aren't dead yet. There must be another entrance to this place in order for there to be so much light.

I was lucky, I think, to have fallen before freezing to death—lucky if I can find drinkable water and a food source—or a way out of here and a rescue.

I'm sweating, so I remove my parka and gloves. I put one glove in each parka pocket. As I do so, I feel something hard. Taking my glove back out, I reach in and pull out a small electronic device about three by five inches. I swipe it and it lights up. The words, Maisewith's Diary scroll across the screen. It's a mini tablet with a key pad, but only one program, a word processor. I guess they expect me to keep a journal of everything I see and do. So, I am here for a purpose. They don't expect me to die, but put me here to explore. Did they tell me that? Not that I remember, and there are no instructions on the pad. I see a network logo and touch it. The words, No Signal light up. Makes sense. I'm underground, though I don't know how far.

Maybe I should start recording what has happened so far. Not yet, I tell myself. First try to find food and water. I'd think they would've supplied nutrition. I search pockets, but there is nothing else. I press on.

The broad, level walkway continues, smooth and solid—some kind of green-blue stone with little variation and no cracks or breaks in it. I look up, searching for a light source, and see the most amazing ceiling. Millions of crystals glitter like a starlit sky, only much denser. Are they reflecting light or producing it? Whatever, it's like being on the inside of a giant geode. A little farther on, I hear the whisper of flowing water. I quicken my pace and soon come to a small pool. It's about an arm's length across and perfectly round. Water gurgles up from the bottom, runs for a dozen yards and disappears again into a slit in the rock floor.

I lie on my stomach, scooping water into my hand to taste it. It's good, pure, and cold, with a slightly sweet taste. I lower my face to the surface and drink and drink. I roll to my back and stare at the glittering ceiling for a few minutes and then turn over and drink some more.

My thirst satisfied, I give in to exhaustion. Using my parka as a cushion and my pants for a pillow, I fall into a deep sleep, and for once I don't dream. When I wake, it's impossible to know how much time has passed, but I feel rested. The brightness of the room is the same, so bright I have to squint. Unlike many times before, I wake exactly where I went to sleep. I remember everything from the moment I found myself alone in the white void of the world above me. That's different from when I often awoke feeling as if I'm missing large blocks of time and activity. I get up and continue on, exploring the tunnel while I review my life, trying to figure out what I'm missing that would lend some sense to why I'm here—wherever here is.

I've lived on Costra for ten years since landing there when I was six. Costra's years are nearly the same as Earth's. Lately I've felt my supervisors' increasing disappointment in me. Maybe it's because of the long sleeps or the disturbing dreams, or the time that passes with no awareness. Do I really sleep that much? Jadith actually seemed angry the last time I told her my frighteningly realistic dream. She said I might need another surgery, so I quit telling her or Martina anything they didn't ask.

I squeeze the pad in my pocket. My assurance that someone will come back and look for me. Is there any chance they'll find me? I know I don't want to die. If I live, I aim to find out what they knew about my brain that they wouldn't tell me. I want to know why I had to have all those surgeries. I want to know why I have blank spots in my life.

Suddenly I'm struck with a thought that brings me to a halt. Why am I so sure they will come back? I realize that's crazy. If they wanted me to survive, they wouldn't have left me without means for survival. I'd have died by now if I hadn't fallen into this cave. It's 200 degrees below zero out there. I know by how fast my spittle cracked. No, they don't want me alive. Maybe they just hope I'll make some interesting notes on what it's like to die in the cold. Too bad. If I die, you get nothing by my dead body. —If you can find it.

Do people just throw their kids away? It's looking more and more like my parents do. Jedd and Jadith sometimes seemed to care about me, why else would they fund all those medical procedures. It's like if they saw signs of abnormality, they had to fix it. Maybe because any deficiency in me was a reflection on them. This is a new realization for me, and I'm terrified.

My stomach growls and aches. I need food. I drink more water at another pool where the stream bubbles through the rock and then disappears again. The passage has widened into a small room with three tunnels leading out of it. After finding dead ends in the first two, I follow the third narrow route, which is darker at first, but widens to a room with a crystalline ceiling, though more purple than white. It's a relief to be in a more moderate light.

After seemingly endless trudging, I'm relieved to come upon a narrow stream of clear water, again. I kneel, drink, and push on. The tunnel widens, the ceiling and walls continue to glitter, shedding light that varies in brightness and color. It's an enchanting world I could enjoy exploring if only I weren't so hungry. The stomach pangs are back with a vengeance. All I can think of is food. I have no idea when or what I last ate. But I've been walking for a very long time, and I'm tired. I lie down and sleep.

I dream of the food from my childhood: rich and flavorful meat and vegetable stews, fruit and vegetable salads, bread. I dream of a table spread with casseroles, roast beef, puddings, and desserts of all kinds. But when I try to get a plate, someone grabs it from my hand and shoves me away.

I wake wishing for a slice of homemade wheat bread, hot from the oven spread with melting butter. I even fantasize chomping on a handful of Nutra-Wafers, the concentrated protein/vitamin discs we eat on the pod. Normally they're tasteless and have a disgusting texture, but they sound good to me now. That's how hungry I am.

With nothing else to do, I keep going. The floor changes in texture and color, rougher with sand on top of the rock. It's staying pretty level, if not rising a little. The crystals still shine. When I'm tired, I find a little alcove shaded from the light. I lie down and sleep again. I wake with no sense of how much time has passed. But I'm hungrier than I've ever been before.

After plodding on for what I'm guessing is another day, I'm so absorbed in thoughts of food that I don't really register the faint hum coming from the distance ahead of me. When I finally notice, it sounds like voices that raise and lower in pitch, sometimes stopping and then picking up again. I push on and notice the air has changed. It's moister and, uh, more organic, I guess. Could I be smelling a garden? Life? Oh, I hope so.

There is grass under my feet, now. I hurry to leafy bushes I see ahead. Pushing through them, the tunnel opens into a vast outdoor...wait. It looks like outdoors, with foliage and grass up to my knees. But it has the same ceiling of glittering crystals embedded in rock, high above my head.

Where there are plants, there must be food. I push through some large, thorny bushes and see rows of tall plants. I stare. The hum is louder, voices, I'm sure of it.

When I step into the open, all sound stops. I stand still scanning the area for movement. Instead, I see eyes. First just one set of emerald-green eyes, then, as I focus, several more of the same color. At last I see a pair of blue ones. They wink at me.

Chapter 2

As I stare, a human, quite bare, rises from where it was crouched in a row of plants to its full height—rather his full height, I see—and stares at me. The young man, steps forward. He says something that sounds like words but is not understandable.

"English, maybe?" he asks, "Do you understand me, now?"

I nod, taken aback by his smooth, pale skin. All of it, for he wears not a stitch of clothing. I focus on his face as I feel a blush coming on.

Behind him, the bodies housing all those green eyes stand and start talking in the same foreign language the young man first used. Their eyes are wide open, and their voices animated. They move closer, surrounding me. They look human except for the fine golden hair of varying lengths that covers all but their hands, faces, and their protruding human-like ears. The skin on their faces and hands is a sort of pale purple-tan. Mauve, I guess. The shades vary, but not by much. They follow the young man to where I stand in knee-high grass.

"Don't be afraid. They're welcoming you," the young man tells me. "They want to know where you came from and how you got here."

"I, I...," I stammer and halt as curious fingers run through my thick, curly, black hair and over my cotton t-shirt and knee-length shorts.

A very tall male...thing—I don't know whether to call it animal or man—steps forward and bows his head slightly. All the rest fall silent and step back. He speaks in a gentle voice, pantomiming by rubbing his stomach, making eating motions, and pointing to me and then waving to all those standing staring at me. I don't know if he's saying, "come peacefully, and we'll have you for dinner" or "come and eat with us."

The boy—yeah, his smooth face makes me think he can't be much older than I am—smiles and translates.

"Galso says, 'forgive us. You must be hungry. Let us first eat, and then perhaps you'll tell us who you are. Will you join us?'"

"Yes, I am hungry. Please tell him thank you."

Galso, apparently some kind of authority or spokesman for the group, turns and leads us out of the grass and onto a narrow path through a huge garden. We walk single-file, Galso in the lead, me next, the boy behind me, and then all the other golden beings trailing silently.

It seems I've arrived at dinner time. Or maybe it's breakfast or lunch, I have no idea of the time of day, but when I see and smell food, I nearly faint with desire. Boy, as I've begun calling him in my mind, tells me to sit, after Galso motions me to a comfortable seat near, but not at, a table. He nods to a female, who smiles and nods in return. She picks up a brown, oval platter from a stack and walks around the table filling it with food. She brings it to me, smiling as she places it in my outstretched hands.

Forgetting everything but my hunger, I pick up something red and put it in my mouth. Oh, wow! The flavor's better than anything I've ever tasted. Juicy, sweet, and tangy all at once, it calls for more, and I stuff food in my mouth. Aware at last of the silence, I look up to see everyone staring at me. I burn with embarrassment. Where have all my manners gone? I was raised to be polite and to adhere strictly to protocol.

"I'm sorry. I, I forgot...I mean I was rude..." I stammer.

Boy says something to Galso who replies.

"It's okay," Boy tells me. "Galso apologizes for staring. Go ahead."

Galso calls, and the other creatures line up from smallest to largest and go around the table, filling plates, chattering among themselves. When Boy fills his plate, he sits on the ground next to me.

"Do you want more?"

I look at my empty plate and nod, then change my mind. "I'll wait until everyone has eaten."

"Take mine. I'll get back in line."

His plate has about half as much food as was first on mine, and I feel greedy. I try to protest, but he's already gone.

Several young golden creatures sit on the ground close to me with their smaller plates. They talk among themselves with many furtive glances in my direction. Boy returns with another tray and sits directly in front of me.

"When everyone is finished, they will ask you many questions. In the meantime, I thought you and I should get acquainted." He takes a big bite of bread, chews, and continues. "My name is Ithwick. What is yours?"

"Maisewith," I say. "Maisewith Reems."

"Reems!" His head shoots up, and his eyes, fully open, eyebrows raised, asks, "Reems? Really?"

"Why is that surprising? It's rather a common name where I come from."

"Yes I suppose it is. Perhaps I shouldn't be surprised that we share a common name, but it must mean, at least, that we come from the same world."

"I was born on planet Earth and then moved to Costra where I've lived for ten years."

"Me too, on both counts. My parents, actually foster parents, were Jedd and Jadith Reems. They gave me their last name and raised me after my parents were killed in a crash when I was an infant."

My mind races. Jedd and Jadith? I know of no other foster child. Could it be a different Jedd and Jadith? It has to be, as I have no brothers or sisters. But what are the chances of two sets of Jedd and Jadith Reems? Ithwick is speaking.

"How did you get here?"

"I'm not sure. I have no memory of arriving. I just woke up standing all alone outside."

"What do you mean outside?"

"Well, somewhere above here, I guess. I was standing in a field of ice and snow, and it was very cold. I walked to the only landmark I saw, a tall, lone mountain, trying to get out of the freezing wind."

"And how did you end up here?"

"As I walked along the side of the mountain—it was tall, smooth and vertical, rising up on my right—I fell into a crevasse."

Ithwick keeps quizzing me, but I interrupt. "What about you? How did you get here?"

"I woke up here. Almost this exact spot. It was kind of terrifying, with the natives crowding me, enveloping me, really, getting me warm. I almost died of hypothermia. I couldn't speak their language at first but finally figured out that they'd found me somewhere 'up' and brought me in to save my life. I've lived with them ever since. Good people."

"People? Is that what they are? They kind of look human, but I wasn't sure."

"Oh, yes. Intelligent, empathic, compassionate, and wise human beings. They call themselves Laeperians."

"What?"

"The name of this place, this planet or moon or whatever it is. Laeperia. They've lived here for more than a thousand years after their ancestors' spacecraft from another planet crashed with ten survivors. This entire population descended from those ten people. Their hair and eye color are just like the original ten. There were eight females and just two males to father all the women's children."

"I guess that explains why their furry bodies, green eyes are all alike, with no more variation than one sees in a wild animal species."

"They have the same basic color. It's in their genes, and at first, you don't notice there individual physical differences. Soon, you'll notice the shades of hair and eye color vary more than just a little. And they have different facial features, just not as pronounced as those of our ancestors—until you get used to them. And definitely they have diverse personalities. Take the twins over there," he said, pointing to two young females sitting nearby. "Loca, the one nearest, is very stubborn and often involved in arguments. Her twin sister, Mylan, is loving, kind, and a peacemaker. Both are extremely intelligent, as are all Laeperians"

Galso approaches and half bows before me. He gives Ithwick an order, which he passes on to the girl, Loca. The other one, Mylan, jumps to her feet, bows and takes our plates away.

Galso speaks, and Ithwick translates. "I trust you are sufficiently fed and willing to talk. Now, you must answer us. Please come."

"Okay," I say.

Galso turns, Ithwick motions me to follow Galso and then falls in line behind me. As before, the rest of the Laeperians come behind us.

I'm led through a large natural archway into an area that has some man-made structures. The room is as big as the biggest stadium I ever saw, but it has the same crystal ceiling as the rest of the cavern. Rows of chairs in a semicircle face a raised stage on which five chairs sit behind a table. I'm told to sit in the center chair. Ithwick sits immediately to my right, and Galso sits next to him. The woman who served me, sits to my left. The other chair is empty.

"Maisewith, meet Muleen," Ithwick says. Dipping his head to the woman seated beside me, then he says something in the language I don't understand, but I hear my name. Muleen touches my arm and smiles, revealing lovely white teeth, and says, "Maisewith." Her tone is soft and melodic, and her pronunciation perfect. "Muleen," I say, dipping my head, and her smile broadens.

She speaks rapidly and Ithwick translates, "She says, 'Relax. You are not on trial. This is a get acquainted meeting.'"

Galso makes a speech and then turns to me with a question that Ithwick seems to answer. Galso speaks again and Ithwick translates.

"I have told him you come from the same two worlds that I came from. He wants to know how you got here."

"I must have been brought here by my family or their associates, but I don't remember it. I just woke up on a cold, white, windy plain. All alone."

After Ithwick translates the next question, "How did you not die?" followed quickly by a second one, "How did you get inside?"

I explain that I was dressed warmly but would still have frozen if I hadn't fallen into the crevasse and found the hole in the mountain that led to warmth.

"What hole?" they want to know.

I explain as well as I can, but confusion in the form of murmuring and lively chatter by those in the audience grows until Galso speaks one word sharply.

Apparently, what I describe is unfamiliar to this hairy bunch. They've lived here a thousand years and don't know the extent of their cave? Finally, when I describe the steam and the pool of toxic water, a man in the audience stands up. With a sign from Galso, he strides to the stage and takes the chair next to Muleen.

"Meet Holtot," Ithwick says. "He will speak now."

Holtot stands and speaks excitedly for a long time. Finally, Ithwick translates, or I'd say summarizes, for his words to me are about a tenth of what Holtot said.

"Holtot knows where you mean. He went there once as a boy. It was against the rules, for as long as anyone living can remember it has been off limits, in fact we've all been told that there is nothing beyond the forest on the other side of the garden. That is why everyone was so surprised to see you. Now we're learning that there is, and why it is forbidden territory."

"Why?" I ask.

"Shh," he says, for Holtot is speaking again.

Others in the audience stand and speak.

Galso gives some kind of order, and about fifteen people slink to the end of the platform and wait, heads hanging. He addresses them harshly, and sends them back to their seats.

Galso turns to me with a kind smile and gentle words which Ithwick translates.

"You are welcome among us. Do not try to leave because there is nowhere to go.'" Ithwick stands and faces me. "Now we are excused, and I'm supposed to show you to the sleeping rooms."

I follow Ithwick to the back wall, which is made of some sort of wood, maybe bamboo, or something like it. There are many doors. Ithwick opens one, and we enter. The room is dark except for a row of faintly glowing circle of lights on a long shelf by the door. Ithwick picks one up and pulls off the cover. It's a lantern, with a top and bottom made of a flat piece of carved wood, held apart by small wooden dowels. Inside is a chunk of gleaming crystal. It lights the room, which has a ceiling made of the same material as the wall and doors. Beds line the walls on each side of the room.

"There are ten rooms like this. Each one has twenty beds."

"That's only two hundred beds. Surely there are many more people than that living here after a thousand years. Do they take turns sleeping?"

"There isn't room for more, Maisewith, and nowhere else to go. And no. Everyone eats together when Galso says it's time. We are all on the same strict schedule."

Ithwick pulls a pallet from a closet next to the door and brings it over to place on the floor between the last bed and the wall. "You take the bed. I'll sleep on the floor next to it, so we can talk. There will be others in the room, and though they don't speak English, for it is forbidden, most of them understand at least a little. They picked up some words when I was first trying to learn their language. I'd say a word in English, pointing to something, and then they'd tell me the Laeperian word. Never underestimate their intelligence.

The occupants of the room are a mixture of men, women, and two children. There is no privacy and no sign of shyness as they prepare for bed. A door at the back leads out of the walled-in area to a long bench with holes next to the sheer rock wall. Ithwick points and says, "Toilets." A stream of water flows continually somewhere beneath them, washing everything away in one continuous flush. Men and women alike sit on them, taking turns. Opposite the toilets, people wash hands, teeth and faces in a long trough with continuously running water, ending in a long tub, before overflowing to fall into darkness below. The water is warm, and a few people sit in it. Ithwick tells me it's spring-fed. There are at least three or four springs that the Laeperians have tapped into, some hot, some cold and at least one in between. The washroom, as this chamber is called, has is only slightly less bright than the other parts of the cave. Crystals in the cavern's ceiling are more widely spaced and there are none in the wall. Still it's plenty light...more than I want in a common bathroom. A mirror on the wall above the washing trough makes the room seem larger than it is.

Ithwick introduces me to everyone we pass, but the names are a series of unfamiliar sounds. Nor can I tell the furry creatures apart, which doesn't help in trying to remember names. Other than differences in size and gender, they are all the same in my eyes. I mention this to Ithwick when at last I lie down on the narrow bed, about half a meter from the one next to it.

"You'll learn. I thought the same when I first came, but you'll get to know the distinguishing characteristics of each one in time."

"Have you missed people of your own kind, since you've been here?" I ask.

"What kind is that?" he asks with anger tinging his voice.

"I didn't mean any offense, but," I say, spreading my arms to take in all of the inhabitants of this cave. "You know what I mean. Humans."

"You think they aren't human?" Ithwick asks, still huffy. "Except for their beautiful hair, there is no discernible difference between me and say, Tyla." He motions to a girl who smiles at him as she walks to a bed across a narrow aisle from us. "Well except that she's female."

"Sorry. I'm sure you're right. No offense like I said."

"I know. Sorry if I sounded cross. I was just reminded of the wars on Earth where people got so divided over little differences. White people thought they were so much better than people like you, that they were oppressing and killing and starting wars over little differences in skin color or religion or anything else the felt superior for. Made me ashamed to be white. And it was the same on Costra. The white invaders against the natives." Ithwick took a deep breath. It seemed like he was trying to suppress a sob, caught in his throat. Finally, he continued. "And it's not like that here. I've been accepted as one of them from the first time I woke up in their care. You'll be accepted too. Maybe the nicest thing about living here is the lack of bias."

I'm all too familiar with bias, being one of only two or three dark skinned people in primary school on earth. I remember wondering why the other kids said mean things about my hair, my skin, even my eyes. It's more covert on Costra, but it's there.

Lights go out, one by one, as people cover their lanterns. The door to the washroom is closed, and it's finally dark. I'm glad. I don't think I could sleep if it wasn't.

We talk in hushed tones for a while, but I soon grow sleepy.

"Let's sleep, Maisewith, I'll tell you Holtot's story tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," I murmur, wondering how the days are decided here. How can they tell time without a rising and setting sun? But I'm too tired to ask. I'll ask tomorrow.

Chapter 3

I sit at the edge of the garden and listen to Ithwick repeat Holtot's story:

"We all know the legend of our beginnings as Laeperians, how a ten-person crew and twelve scientists set out on a mission from our home planet, Jalspar, to the nearest moon of their neighboring planet, Falstar. The moon, Laeperia, seemed to have water or at least they thought it might, but they weren't sure because of the thick clouds that surround it. They wanted to find out if whatever lay beneath those clouds could support life. High winds interfered with the landing, and their ship crashed. Only two men and eight women escaped before the space ship caught fire and burned. The rest were lost. Those who survived were fortunate to have landed at the base of a mountain where a faint glow led them to the entrance to this cave where we live today. They found an abundance of water and plants including a forest of trees growing in the sandy soil. They planted the seeds they brought with them. They found the native chombar plant with edible tubers and medicinal leaves of the palpa tree. They had enough to survive while they waited for a rescue.

"As time passed, and without any form of communication, they came to realize that no help was coming. Their communications system and everything else on the ship had burned to ashes. Observers on Jalspar probably assumed that all had died. Jalspar, so our tradition tells us, is a poor world that had scraped all their resources to launch the controversial mission. It is no wonder they didn't attempt a rescue. They probably abandoned the space program altogether.

"Those first ten people, our ancestors, after exploring every part of this cave, declared that nothing beyond the forest was life sustainable. That was after one woman from their party fell into a boiling pool of toxic water and died instantly. The others had to flee, for the air was poisonous. The nine survivors were sick when they got back here where the air and water are pure. They made it a rule that anyone caught entering that passageway would be punished—if they survived. And so it has always been."

"That was just his introduction and news to me," Ithwick tells me. "I was told that I couldn't go past the trees, but not why. I never even knew about the passage until you came, or about the poisonous pool until you told us in the assembly. I didn't know all the history until Holtot gave his speech. Here's the rest of what he said."

"I, Holtot, while listening to the oral tradition in my youth, became curious. I wanted to see for myself, so, during sleep time, I rose and sought out the passage. I went in and found the way lighted with the same fluorescent crystals that light our known world. I could smell nothing amiss and the water was pure. So I kept going. But it was a long way, and I was afraid of being missed. I turned back, but not before the air became warmer and began to smell funny. I remembered the story of the poisonous air and pool. It is proof that such a place exists, but I don't know how she survived."

"He meant me, of course," I say "Does he think I have some special resistance or something? The chamber was steamy and the smell of sulfur very strong. My goggles were so steamed over I had to remove them, but as soon as I could clear them, I put them back on. And I left that chamber. The smell lessened as I got away from it."

Ithwick nods.

"He did seem a little angry at you, I don't know why, because he went on to say that your description of the passageway, with the light and the stream, were all exactly as he saw them. He said he didn't go far enough to see the pool with its waterfalls, but since everything else you described, including the odor, was accurate, you must be telling the truth."

"What did the others say? The ones that Galso called to the front."

"Galso asked if anyone else had ever ventured into the forbidden passage. Those who stood said they had, but not far enough to see the boiling pool. They all promised they would never go again and begged forgiveness for not telling everyone."

"Galso seemed to be scolding them. He went on for quite a while. Were they in trouble, or is that just the way he talks?"

"He can be really gruff," Ithwick says, "but first he commended them for telling the truth. He used the experience to impress everyone that going there could have dire, if not fatal consequences, though you are proof that it's not immediately lethal. He also gave them extra work time. They must rebuild the barrier to the tunnel. He wants it hidden camouflaged so no one will ever be tempted to go there." Ithwick shakes his head and adds, "and when he was almost shouting and it looked like he was about to burst an artery, he said they would each have to face trial, ending with Holtot. They'll have to explain why they kept a secret. They could be executed for such a lack of transparency."

"Executed! That's an extreme punishment for doing a little exploring."

"Not for exploring. By not telling anyone until now, they broke Galso's precious first rule."

"Did they know they could be put to death for that? If so, I'm surprised they confessed. I wonder how many others were guilty but didn't say anything."

"Probably none. It doesn't work that way here. Deceit is the one and only crime with the death penalty. Since it is a small population, 'it is imperative that there is complete transparency.'" Ithwick lowered his voice to sound like Galso. After looking around to be sure no one had overheard, he continued. "Secrets are against the law. Holtot risked the ultimate punishment by revealing that he had kept one. Once he confessed, the others had to, for fear they'd be found out and punished. By confessing they hope to attain forgiveness. Everyone understands the need for honesty, and so no one would dares lie, not even by failing to answer a direct question such as the one Galso posed."

"Why did they confess, though? Did they think others would somehow find out after all this time?"

"I think they got scared, sure their guilt would show. Many, if not all, seem to think that Galso can read minds. They took a chance, hoping for a better chance of survival if they begged forgiveness than they'd have if he found out first."

I gulp. I'll have to be careful. I learned to be secretive, deceptive, even sneaky when I lived with Jadith and Jedd. I had to sneak and lie in order to protect myself and try to find out what information was being withheld from me and why.

Ithwick must have read my thoughts, for he said, "Being a foreigner, they may give you a second chance, they did me. I told one stupid little lie before I learned about the death penalty. I was about to be executed, when Muleen spoke up for me. She said that since I was a newcomer and had not known the laws, I should have them read to me and explained before being punished for what I didn't know. When it went to a vote they all agreed that I could have another chance. And now, since I've explained the rule, you might not get a second chance. So only speak that which is impeccably true."

"Death penalty! That's completely crazy!"

"They claim it's necessary to teach a lesson no one will ever forget."

"What is their method of execution?"

"Maisewith, I pray you will never find out. It's designed to inhibit further disobedience to this most important law. Everyone must watch. I guarantee, seeing it once will discourage all manner of deception."

"I'll try to be totally honest, but I need to know the rules, all of them, and the consequences of breaking them."

"That will probably come up in our meeting with Galso tomorrow."

"Another assembly where I'm on the hot seat?"

"No, just you, me, and Galso. But it could be even hotter. I'm not sure Galso was entirely satisfied with what he learned yesterday."

Our meeting with Galso comes early in the morning. At least I guess it's morning, because it has been only a short time since everyone rose from their beds and went off to work in the garden. No breakfast, but I'm not hungry. What I ate yesterday, still satisfies me.

To begin, and with Ithwick translating, Galso tells me that I must learn the language as quickly as possible. No one is comfortable hearing us talk in a language they do not understand. Until I quit speaking English, at the end of each "wake time" Ithwick must tell everyone in an assembly what we have said to each other.

I don't relish the idea that every word I say will be announced to everyone. I'll learn the language faster than anyone will think possible. It's what I'm good at. I will soon understand what they're saying—like when they look at me and make quiet comments.

Galso gives a cryptic list of the rules. There are now five, he says. He added one after yesterday's session.

• 1 Always tell the truth, exactly and completely, keeping nothing from the whole of the population. Hide neither words nor actions from others. (Offenses punishable by death)

• 2 Encourage others with smiles and kindness. Maintain a positive attitude and protect others from displeasure or harm. (Offenses punishable by solitary confinement)

• 3 Do your assigned daily work without complaint. (Offenses punishable by extra hard labor)

• 4 No unauthorized coupling, which includes hugging or kissing, which stimulates the urge to procreate. (Punishable by forced separation, wearing of genital-cover and public shaming, and if pregnancy results, death.)

• 5 Never leave our cultivated area. Danger awaits at each exit. Instant freezing through the cave entrance, and poison gases through the tunnel behind the forest. Anyone who sees or hears of a person attempting to leave must immediately report it. Failure to do so is a violation of Rule 1.

I can tell that Galso is not happy for any change to the workings of the society. It's why he wants Ithwick to teach me the language quickly. He gives us time off from work to do it.

"Remember every word each of you speak, for you must translate for everyone," he warns Ithwick.

"Will you?" I ask Ithwick later when we are alone. "Do you believe he can read your mind—enough to know if you are telling everything or not?"

"No," Ithwick says, smiling. "But I know he wishes he could."

After the daily meal, an assembly is called. First on the agenda is a recount of every word Ithwick and I have spoken in English. At least I guess that's what he's telling. He speaks rapidly in a language that includes clicks and whistles.

When he's finished, Galso calls Nadina, the woman who confessed to going to the boiling pool. He asks questions, and she answers. When done, Galso calls for a vote and she is unanimously 100% forgiven of breaking Rule 1 because she expressed contrition, offered a good excuse—not for going, but for keeping it secret. She said the reason she hadn't told anyone, was she feared others would be tempted to follow. She hoped they wouldn't now that she had owned up to it. "Don't go beyond the trees," she said. "The rule is for your safety."

Apparently, that satisfied everyone.

I ask Ithwick what the punishment would have been if the vote had been less than unanimous.

"That's unlikely. This community is like a bunch of lemmings. But, she probably wouldn't be put to death, maybe isolated with a gag order. No one would be allowed to speak to her, nor she to anyone. If she disobeyed, her tongue would be cut out, if Galso had his way—and he always does."

If I had a choice, I'd leave this place right now, before I fail to follow their strict rules for honesty.

"How can you stand to live with such rules?"

"Because of the alternative, Maisewith."

Of course! It's stay or die. Suddenly the shining crystal walls and ceiling transform into unforgiving prison lights that allow no privacy or personal freedom.

Chapter 4

We sit knee to knee at the edge of the garden, Ithwick and I, memorizing vocabulary. A young girl walks by as Ithwick tells me the word for hands. I repeat it, or at least I think I do, but the girl laughs, holds out her hands and says the word. I try to say it like she does, but she shakes her head and says it again. She repeats it slowly showing me how I should shape my mouth and hold my tongue against my teeth, letting it drop with a small pop at the end of the word. I try until I get it. She laughs again and says something else.

"The way you were saying it means, dirty laundry," she says, according to Ithwick's translation. She says something else with her arm raised and circling over her head.

"'Good persistence,' Ithwick translates. 'You learn well.'"

I notice a look pass between her and Ithwick.

Eeww. Really? I stare. Yes. Really. I feel the sparks—and though I want to slap her, I guess I can't blame her. Ithwick is extraordinarily good looking with his straight, slightly freckled nose, strong jawline, and baby-blue eyes, shining with intelligence, as twin dimples dart in and out of his cheeks. His broad shoulders and muscular chest...well, yeah! Who wouldn't be attracted to him? Just because he and I are the only two of our species...Yeah. That's it. Despite what Ithwick tells me about the Laeperians being human, the idea of this handsome, smooth-skinned person making love to a hairy apish female turns my stomach.

I look away. Maybe if they wore clothes, they wouldn't seem quite so... so primitive.

It probably wouldn't help, though. Ithwick doesn't wear clothes either, and he seems noble—almost divine. I try not to let my eyes wander too far south of his face, though. I think I actually blushed when he suggested I don't need to wear clothing, either. Apparently, I took it the wrong way. I'll keep my clothes on as long as two threads hold together. Not the warm outerwear, of course. I tug at my shirt, pulling it down to cover the waist band of my shorts.

"That was Tyla," Ithwick says as the girl walks away. He launches into the lesson again. I repeat words after him, struggling to pay attention. At first, they seem easy, not so different from the vowel and consonant sounds of English, but just like the word for hand, there are nuances that are harder to achieve.

When it's time to sleep, and everyone in our room has covered their lanterns, Ithwick speaks to me softly in Laeperian. I don't answer, although I know he has said, "May you wake refreshed."

A moment later, he repeats in English, "'May you wake refreshed,' is what I said. Did you forget already?"

"No," I say in Laeperian. "Thank you for teaching me."

He chuckles. "I know what you meant. What you said is 'thank you for losing me.' The words for lose and teach are similar. A hard click in the middle makes it teach."

"What a hard language."

"You'll get it. You're very smart."

"You met with Galso," I say, for Ithwick was called into his chamber after the daily assembly. I wasn't invited. "What did he say?"

"While teaching you, I'm supposed to learn more about you."

"What more does he want to know?"

"Everything. At least enough to determine whether others will follow. He's concerned with overcrowding, but it's not the Laeperian way to refuse food and shelter to any who come."

"Has there been anyone besides you and me?"

"None who lived."

"But some came and died?"

"Before me, the people occasionally heard a low humming sound. They didn't know what to make of it, but when it went away, with no harm done, they ignored it. This happened three times. The fourth time they heard it, they decided to look outside. They cleared the barrier of the opening to the outside, and saw a big black bag close by. One dashed out, stumbled over a body, and dragged the bag back in. I was in it, and they revived me. They said the body they saw was nearly covered in snow, hairless like me, but smaller—and frozen solid."

"Some child dumped as we were?"

"Apparently," Ithwick says. "So now when anyone detects the humming sound, we look out. I built a periscope so we can see outside without opening the door to let in the cold. Some of us heard the sound a few sleeps before you came, but when we looked, we saw nothing."

As our lessons progress, and I'm getting good at it, we are assigned work. I'm working in the garden alongside Ithwick, who quizzes me as we work. I look up as Tyla approaches. Funny, I'm already able to distinguish her face from the others. It's pretty. Apparently Ithwick thinks so, too, as he stands and gazes at her as she comes closer.

I turn away, too stirred up inside to trust what will show on my face. Maisewith, I chide myself, you can't possibly be jealous, so stop it. Then why do I feel like crying? Maybe because he's my only connection with home—or what I always called home. Let's face it. I'm lonely. I've been rejected and cast away by people who were supposed to care for me—like I'm nothing.

When I look up from my frenetic weed pulling, Tyla is gone, and Ithwick is working beside me.

"I recognized that girl, Tyla. I guess I'm learning to distinguish the natives' different characteristics," I say.

"Good. I knew you would. Do you think she's pretty?" he asks, shyly.

"Yes. For a Laeperian."

"You'll get used to them. Really the only difference from us Costrans from Earth is that they have thicker hair on their bodies. You should see them as human by now, but you don't, do you?"

"I suppose I will, in time." I pause and look at him out of the corner of my eye. He wears a happy smile, and I know he's thinking of Tyla.

"Are you in love with her?" I hope I've hidden my jealousy as I ask the question.

"Yes. I am. She's incredible. You'll agree, once you get to know her."

"Will you marry her?"

"That isn't the way it works here," Ithwick says.

He's quiet for a long time, and I'm about to ask him to explain when he goes on. "Sometimes I wish it were, but I understand the reason for the system. Our space is limited. We use all the food our gardens produce."

I wince at the familiar way he uses the word, "our." He's part of them. I'm the outsider.

"So," he explains, "population has to be controlled. When two people wish to mate," Ithwick explains, "They put their marks on a list. When someone dies, those at the top of the list may copulate until she becomes pregnant. It's a big deal because it happens so rarely. Their first time is a public affair with a big celebration."

"You don't mean people watch them have sex!"

"Yes. Just the first time," Ithwick says, as if that's inconsequential. "Then they get the privacy of a room to themselves for their sleep times. That would be the best part."

"For how long?"

"If she doesn't get pregnant in 150 sleeps, they go back to their places in the community bedrooms and the next couple on the list gets to mate, and so it goes until a child has brought the tally back to two hundred."

As we move on down our row of vegetables, he continues, his voice low and sharp. "And then we wait for the next person to die. And that can be a very long time. This is a healthy bunch. No violence is tolerated, and as you see by the ban on exploration, safety is a big thing."

I think about how I've made the list longer. Now two people will have to die before the next couple can make love.

"So, you and Tyla are on the list?" I ask.

"We will be. We talked about it. I proposed, and she said yes. I guess on Costra that's called engagement. Engaged to wait," he adds bitterly.

"So, when you're at the top of the list, you mate, have your baby, and are married for life?"

"There's no such thing as marriage here. We're one big, happy family." I detect a sour note in his voice. "Everyone looks after the child, though the mother nurses it until it's eating full meals like everyone else. No need for a family unit. Later, if we wanted, either of us could put our name on the list again. Together or with someone else. Many people do, and there is no shame in that. No hard feelings. Though the odds of getting to the top of the list twice in a lifetime are slim to none."

"And you never get to make love again?" I ask, "Haven't they heard of birth control?"

"The only birth control here is abstinence. And it's strictly enforced. Any couple caught having sex without permission is punished with solitary confinement for a period of time decided on by a committee. Not even kissing is allowed, for it 'stimulates the urge to procreate,' quoting the wording of that rule."

"Well, I'm sorry I'm here to make your wait that much longer," I say, once more feeling like a burden to this small, well-run society.

"Don't be sorry. Remember, I did the same when I came. The Laeperians are good people, willing to share what they have."

After the daily meal, Laeperians assemble to hear the things Ithwick and I have talked about in English, for nothing must be hidden from them. Sometimes I'm called upon to say what I've learned in Laeperian. I often get laughed at, but it's good natured. Part of the assemblies are trials, though brief, for those who confessed to entering the forbidding passage. So far, the results for each has been the same. All forgiven, including Holtot. I wonder what the assemblies will be about once I've learned the language and all the offenders have had their trials.

"There won't be any," Ithwick tells me." Assemblies are the exception, only called when something unusual takes place, like a trial for a violation of some rule, a coupling, an execution, and the appearance of aliens—you and me."

He's right of course. Once I learn the language and quit speaking English, there will be no need for assemblies to satisfy the complete-transparency rule that says everyone must know everything about everyone else.

I'm already breaking that rule, I think, with a shiver. I'm purposely prolonging the time that I can continue these private sessions with Ithwick, pretending I know less of the language than I do. It terrifies me to think someone could figure that out and report me, but how could anyone know? Even Ithwick does not suspect, but commends me for learning so quickly.

It's scary, what I'm doing, but once our sessions stop, existence inside this small, imprisoning rock will be more intolerable than ever.

Chapter 5

Months have passed since I stumbled into this inside world. Not really months of course. We have no moon phases to see. We're inside the moon! I don't know how time is marked here. Or if it even is, but I've been marking off sleep and wake cycles. I've kept track on the pad I found in the pocket of my outer wear, which has been bundled and stored in the closet just inside the door of the bedroom I'm assigned to. I keep the mini-tablet beneath my pillow. At the end of 30 cycles, I call it a month, and begin counting the next 30.

I have learned the language and can communicate fluently with others. I've learned the distinctive features of most of the Laeperians and can call them by name. And I can understand comments not meant for my ears as I work alongside them in the garden or the kitchen. Some don't realize that I've learned their language so well.

I've made a few friends, Tyla being one of them. I've accepted her love for Ithwick and his for her. He has become like a brother to me. A protective big brother. Tyla understands and feels no jealousy or ill will.

"We must be siblings," I say to him in a whisper when others have gone to sleep. We speak in English then, both of us wanting to remember it as part of our heritage, not that we'll ever find any use for it again. We are here for life. Though I guess that's better than the death sentence that brought us here. If anyone hears our whispers, they probably assume Ithwick is still teaching me more Laeperian words, for no one has complained. And it's true. He makes sure I know the Laeperian word for every English word I speak. If there is an equivalent. Sometimes there isn't.

"If we have the same parents, Jedd and Jadith Reems, you're my older brother. So, where were you?"

"Maybe there's more than one Jedd and Jadith Reems."

"Jadith has long blond hair, always braided and coiled like a crown on her head. Jedd is bald on top, and the fringe above his ears is brown. He has a goatee and sideburns."

"And a scar, about an inch long, on his left cheek, just below and to the left of his eye," Ithwick finishes for me.

I nod. I had a brother two years older than me, and I never knew it. What other secrets have they kept from me? From us?

"You look a little like Jadith with your blue eyes and blond hair," I say. "Are you a natural child? Maybe they wanted to 'protect' you from the stigma of having a black sister."

"No. I was an orphan. My mother died in childbirth. My father, in his grief, got drunk and drove his car off a cliff, killing him. Whether an accident or suicide, no one will ever know."

"I'm sorry," I say. "Were the Reems related? Maybe an aunt and uncle?"

"No. They said they never knew my parents, but when they heard of an orphaned infant with nowhere to go, they stepped up and took me in."

I frown. I heard the same explanation of why they took me in. No one else wanted me after my parents were killed. My mother was in labor and on the way to the hospital when a drunk driver plowed into them, killing both my parents. I was born right there in the car and rescue workers took me to the hospital. The Reems took me in "out of the kindness of our hearts," as they publicly bragged.

When Ithwick gives me the address of the Reems household, I realize it's not more than two blocks from the one I lived in. We attended the same school, only in different grades. He had a nanny and so did I.

"My nanny was Russian and barely spoke English. I learned a lot of Russian words from her," Ithwick tells me.

"My nanny was from Nigeria. She spoke pretty good English, and I'd beg her to teach me her native tongue, I can still speak it as well as she can. She was good and loving to me and made me feel important. Which was nice, because in Primary School, I was the only dark-skinned, brown-eyed person in my class. Kids made fun of me and told me to go home, like I belonged to some other country."

We each thought our home was the only home of our parents. They were gone a lot on business, so we never questioned where they slept when they weren't home.

"I missed a lot of school, due to illness," Ithwick says.

"What kind of illness."

"Well, I don't really remember being sick, other than having headaches sometimes. I had a few surgeries on my head."

"Me, too. I'd like to find out what that was about." Fat chance, I realize. Jedd and Jadith made sure we'll never know.

As wakeful times and sleep times mark day after monotonous day. I grow more and more anxious to get out of the confines of this rock and more and more depressed as I know that "out" means certain death.

Depression and any words of dissatisfaction are discouraged here. More like prohibited, as smiles and pleasantries are required by the law of the land.

Muleen caught me on the verge of tears one day as we worked side-by-side preparing food. "Smile, Maisewith," she said. "You must learn the adage passed down from the founders of our society."

"What's that," I ask.

"With no choice of neighborhood, we must choose to support our neighbors with cheer."

"In other words, since you can't leave them, better love them?" I ask.

Muleen smiles and pats my shoulder. "You've got it. Attitudes must be controlled when a family of 200 individuals lives in such a confined space."

It makes me wonder how many Laeperians are hiding discontent behind their ever-present smiles.

"How do you manage to stay so positive, Ithwick," I whisper in English when we are lying on our cots just a half meter apart. "Having gone to school, traveled through space, lived in wide open spaces with room to not feel crowded among millions of people on two planets, how can you stand the confinement?"

"It requires focus on the advantages," he whispers back in Laeperian. "There are so many things to be thankful for here to make up for what I miss in a former life."

"Like what?"

"Well, life, first of all. Friendship, orderliness, acceptance. No fighting, no one killing each other for no better reason than having a different skin color or religion."

I think Ithwick is pretty hung up on the racism on Earth. It wasn't exactly absent on Costra either, but I don't understand why it's such a big deal for him.

"Not that you had to worry about that where we lived. You had the right color of skin. You came from the right family, one with plenty of money and prestige."

"Do you think I have no empathy?"

"Seems like there is more to it than that."

"Fine. My best friend when I was in Basic, before leaving Earth, was a girl from a Middle Eastern country. One night she and her entire family were shot and killed in their beds because some racist thought people of her race and religion should not be allowed to live in our country. Or to live anywhere for that matter." Ithwick wipes his eyes with his thumb and lowers his voice. "Now I love Tyla, and I don't have to worry that some maniac is going to kill her or kill me because I look different."

I feel a sharp and familiar pang of fear. On Costra, Ithwick would surely have reason to fear for Tyla's life. I was familiar with that kind of fear both on Earth and on Costra where aborigines were being forced off their land. When I was still on earth, Jadith never let me go anywhere without a chaperon with my best friend, Salena, whose skin was even darker than mine. "How will anyone know you belong to us if we're not around to protect you?" Jadith asked.

Not that her 'protection" was the gift she thought it was. When with Jedd and Jadith, people just smiled politely and then ignored me. At SABSE, the bullying continued. I was the only black student amongst kids from elite white families, scientists and doctors, mostly. Sure, I was the daughter of the most important of all of them, but still, I was ostracized.

I close my eyes and remember Corva Callaway's face twisted in disgust as she yelled, "Maisewith's a liar," turning it into a chant that fifteen girls picked up and kept going. Only Ruthita Adams, my best white friend, stood up for me.

"Stop it!" she yelled. "That's not nice to call someone a liar."

She took my hand and suggested we go to a different part of the playground.

"Why do they lie about me and then call me a liar?" I ask.

"Maisey," Ruthita said with a concerned expression lining her face, "they're not lying. Don't you remember? You really did do that experiment in front of the class. It was amazing and you were so...so...methodical, and, I don't know, like you were all business. No smiles or fooling around, just in charge and doing everything in order. Your voice even sounded older, but it was you. You definitely did that experiment."

"Then why don't I remember it?"

"I don't know, Maisey. It's really weird. Maybe you should pretend you remember. Just tell the others you were just kidding about not remembering, and then they'll let it go."

I should have taken her advice. I told Jadith instead, and she said she'd talk to the teacher. She did, and that made it worse. The kids stopped talking to me and looked at me like I'd grown an extra eyeball in the middle of my forehead. They stayed as far away from me as they could. A few weeks later I was back in surgery.

I guess I don't miss that part of my former life. Ithwick has a point. But I don't feel better as I think that I have no choice. Follow the rules or die. Live in this place forever. Adapt—like Ithwick has. All I've ever wanted, I think, is to be independent, my own person, making my own decisions. I guess that will never be.

Waking from a dream of being on Costra in seventh grade with my favorite teacher, Doctor Lee, I smile and sit up, ready to prepare for school. Slamming back onto my pillow, I stare at the wooden ceiling as lights from a half dozen lanterns reveal the ugly truth of where I still am. Imprisoned in the Rock. Not getting ready for school, but for work. Today I get to weed row after row of bokstra, a turnip-like plant that is growing nicely but won't be ready to harvest for several more wake/sleep cycles.

I miss school. I miss learning. It seems that in the 200 sleeps I've been here, I've learned everything there is to know. There is no school because there is no knowledge needed beyond how to grow and harvest crops, prepare food, make furniture and implements, and memorize the Laeperian oral history, most of which I already learned from Holtot's story. There is no such thing as a book, let alone an electronic communicator of any kind. There are few children and the ones that exist are sparsely spaced in age. Now I understand why. Every birth has to wait for a death.

Most of the Laeperians are old, which leaves a lot of hard work for the young. The only people near my age are Tyla, and a little older boy named Galing, a man I'd guess in his twenties named Colmac, and a girl just beginning to show budding breasts, making her somewhere around the equivalent of 12 or 13 in Costran years. Her name is Koki, and she looks at me with adoration, following me, and somehow managing to work beside me most of the time. There are the twins I met on the first day, and one toddler whom everyone adores and looks after, and a boy of about 9 or 10. All these numbers are my guesses and wouldn't mean a thing to anyone else. As far as I can tell, no one keeps track of ages or years. Or dates of any kind. Time marches on with no change.

Except for dreams. My sleep is often filled with people and animals from my past, and I wake with such a sense of sorrow, I can hardly keep the tears from falling. I keep my sobs hidden, but I am homesick. Not so much for Jadith or Jedd, as they were gone more than they were there for me, but for school, travel, my pets, my nanny, and most of all the small measure of freedom I had. I long to be free to move. Free to make choices for myself. More free than I've ever been in my life. I could never wait to grow up, thinking I could find my own career apart from the Reems and their plans. But it didn't work that way.

When I took the required health and first aid course in Basic, I fell in love with anatomy and physiology. My spirits soared as I learned first aid and how to resuscitate a person. How to save lives. I signed up for the advanced course, enjoying everything I learned. When I graduated Basic and all students were asked to choose their career for placement in secondary school, I chose medicine. I knew I wanted to be a doctor.

Jadith quickly put an end to that. Although everyone else in my class made their own choices, Judith was enraged when she heard mine. She messaged the school and told them it was a mistake and I would be going to the School for Astronomy, Bionics, and Space Exploration. When I objected, she said, "Your natural talent for linguistics makes you a natural for diplomacy. You'll work for the government in a much more important job than medicine."

"More important than saving lives?" I asked.

"Look at the big picture," she said. "Your work will affect millions, not just an individual life here and there. There are plenty of others who can do that."

At least in SABSE I was constantly learning. Here, not so much.

Chapter 6

Koki asked me, yesterday, when we were working in the garden. "Why does your smile look sad? It doesn't get to your eyes."

She's an unusually perceptive girl. So I told her about my dreams. Or tried to. Then I realized that there is no Laeperian word for dream and no way to describe an animal beyond the small insects and worms we find in the garden soil. What use are words to describe what doesn't exist?

"Ithwick, how do you say dream?" I ask as I kneel beside him in a row of greens.

Ithwick laughs. "I tried to describe it once. The closest I could get was dukomo re bokal esita, which means false stories while sleeping. If people here have dreams, they discard them as signs of a deteriorating mind and are forced to recite the tenets for life—the rules.

I'm sure they'll think I'm deranged, but what I dream is more like memories than false stories. I had a dog on Earth but had to leave it behind. Jedd got me a hogul when we got to Costra. "Did you have one of those incredibly cute creatures that looks like miniature bears?"

"No, but I'm familiar with it. A cute and cuddly little thing, one of the few domesticated animals on Costra. I preferred a canabat. An ugly bird, but I could teach it to talk."

"I named my hogul Con and loved it, but since it was not allowed at school or on the pod, I didn't get much time with it."

Dreams filled with animals make me yearn for a pet. This place is so weird with no birds, mammals, or reptiles. I say as much to Ithwick.

"We're inside a big rock," he repliess. "It was mostly empty before the people from Falstar crashed here. They brought seeds for many kinds of plants, but not fauna."

"But the trees, or most of them were here, right?"

"Yes, and some of the grasses."

"But you'd think a place with breathable air and potable water, and plant life would attract animals. At least fish and amphibians."

"Oh, there are microbes in the soil. There are bugs. I've seen mites, or something similar, under the bark of the trees and there are snails in the soil near the spring that feeds the garden. I even saw a creature that looks something like a pollywog, but it darted out of sight underground when it saw my shadow." After a moment, he continues. "You know how cold and hostile the environment is out there. Nothing could live, or if it could, it wouldn't be adapted to the warmth inside."

I sigh and go back to the field to plant seeds gathered from the latest crop of pulsate. Others are busy preserving the pulsate fruit. Nothing is ever wasted here with 200 mouths to feed.

Koki follows me and asks what I meant by animals. Koki is fascinated by what I try to explain from my former life, but eventually, Galso asks me to stop. The people here have never known any other world, no other existence, and they never will. "You are only making them wish for something they can't have."

I see his point. Life is so limited. Work, cook, eat once a day, sleep, get up, and start all over. The only interruptions are occasional meetings to discuss any problems or infractions of rules. Though my fate is set in stone—literally—I cannot imagine living like this forever. There has to be more. There just has to be.

It's my turn to prepare vegetables for the evening stew, peeling and chopping, until there is enough to feed 200 people. Galing sits beside me and gives me a little nudge. When I turn toward him, he nods toward his lap, and my eyes follow his. Yikes! He's fiddling with his genitals! My mouth drops open and my face burns. My chair slams to the floor as I jump up and run to the garden. Looking back, I see Galing has gone back to peeling payats, the large brown tubers that taste something like carrots. Ugh. I remind myself not to eat any.

Ithwick laughs when I tell him what Galing did. "Don't take offense. The males here do it all the time. It's the traditional way of telling a female he likes her." Ithwick laughs again. "It's not like we have valentines to send."

"It's not funny! I feel so violated."

"Don't. It's the custom here. If she likes him back, she touches her breasts, exposing her nipples—and that's as far as it goes. Everyone knows the rules."

"Gross! What an awful custom."

"Better than groping each other, as the kids in my high school used to do. The boys couldn't seem to keep their hands off the girls whether the girls wanted them to or not."

"I know. I don't want that, but I definitely don't enjoy seeing a boy play with his private parts." The image of the swollen purple, hairless appendage is branded on my brain forever.

"They aren't so private here. If hair doesn't cover a body part, Laeperians figure its meant to be seen. I know, it takes some getting used to, but you'll get to the point where you can walk around without clothes and think nothing of it."

"I'll keep these clothes on until no two threads hang together," I declare.

Ithwick laughs. "I bet you don't know what a Laeperian's feet look like, because your eyes have never strayed lower than a person's waist, if that far."

I start to protest but realize it's true. I have no idea what their feet look like.

"Even me," he says, chuckling. "When you look at me, your eyes are always on my face."

"Exactly where they should be," I retort.

"Watch out," Ithwick warns. "Here comes Galing, and I think he's on a mission."

Sure enough. Galing strides toward me, his emerald eyes glistening. I look back at Ithwick only to see him disappearing behind the tall kassell plants on the other side of the garden.

Galing stops in front of me. "You are pretty. May I add your name with mine to the list?"

I'm shocked at the forthright proposal. I can't imagine mating with a furry beast. I know I shouldn't think of him as an animal, but all that hair! I don't hate Galing, but after what he just did, I don't like him, either. Besides, I'm only sixteen. Maybe close to seventeen. I have only a vague idea that my birthday is close, maybe past, maybe yet to come. But the biggest reason I shake my head and say, "No, I'm sorry. I'm not ready," is because I don't want to be here.

I know it's futile to ever expect something different, but I feel like a prisoner, claustrophobic in the limited livable space of this geode. I know there's no escape, but still. Tears edge my eyes as Galing blinks his. He turns and plods away.

The Reems left me to die. Instead they've given me a life sentence in a prison guarded by lethal elements. I'd be better off if I'd never found this place, just died outside of hypothermia. It's not a bad way to go.

I'm lining up for the daily meal when I hear a screech. I look to the corner where Metrika, the obvious mother of the toddler, a boy named Boris, holds him above her head and shakes him.

"Help me," she cries, looking around. She gives him another shake and yells, "Breathe!"

I dash toward her and elbow my way through others gathering around her. "I know what to do," I say, pulling Boris from Metrika's hands. I lay him on my arm, his head in my right hand while I try to clear his airway with my left forefinger. I touch something smooth and round, but I can't get it to budge, succeeding only in lodging it tighter. I try pressing on his sternum to force air from his lungs to push it out. It doesn't work and Boris's face is a very dark plum color and his eyes roll back so only the whites show. I grab a sharp obsidian knife from the counter top, palpate the location of the vocal cord, and jab the knife below it.

"Give me a straw," I yelp as someone grabs my arm. But Boris is already drawing a breath. Someone hands me a short tube made from the hollow stem of the cupa plant. I insert it into the small incision and Boris breathes deeply through it. As his color returns, I hold my finger over the tube and Boris coughs hard, pushing out a sowree fruit, the grape-sized yellow fruit that tastes like a cross between a lemon and a kiwi and is the main source of vitamin C here. It's a part of each daily meal.

Boris cries, loud and lustily.

Metrika soothes the little Boris, I remove the tube and staunch the bleeding. With Kaltka and Muleen helping, we close the slit in the trachea using the sap Muleen provides that works like glue to hold the cut closed. "It won't come apart. I promise. We call it garberry magic."

I want to leave the cut through the skin open until I make sure no infection occurs, but Kaltka has already applied the garberry sap. "It will be fine," she says.

"You saved his life," Metrika exclaims, clutching him to her breast where he immediately latches on to a nipple.

"Let him," Muleen says. "He's in need of comfort."

He suckles until milk starts pouring from his nostrils.

"Enough," Muleen declares. "From now on, only soft food, and we'll take turns feeding him."

"He has a big hole in the roof of his mouth," Kaltka says. "That's why the order to quit nursing him so soon."

'May I see it?" I ask.

Muleen takes the toddler from Metrika and holds his mouth open. "It's long and not very wide, extending from the split in his lip. We mended his lip with garberry sap, but he licks it off before it can bridge the gap in the bony roof of his mouth."

"Let's put some sap on a clean leaf, like this one," I say, picking a flat leaf from the salad. "It will fit between his gums, so when he licks he just presses it tighter against the slit."

Boris has fallen asleep in Muleen's arms. When Kaltka has a leaf ready with garberry spread evenly across the middle of it, Muleen gently opens his mouth. Kaltka places the leaf firmly in place. Boris fusses and squirms. Muleen hands him back to Metrika who soothes and cuddles him as he quickly falls asleep again.

"We must watch him carefully, to be sure the leaf doesn't come loose and choke him," I warn.

"It will probably come away in small pieces, and the center part with the glue will stay long enough for the bridge to be firm, closing the hole in his palate." Muleen surmises. "Good thinking, Maisewith."

I pay more attention to Boris after that. He is more doted on than ever by everyone. And so am I. It seems I've gained more respect as hundreds of people thank me and engage me in conversation. It feels so good to have saved a precious life. I really should have been a doctor.

"Now you smile like you mean it," Koki observes.

Chapter 7

Not many days later, as Tyla works beside me after our daily meal, washing the plates that I've learned are leaves from the palm-like karota tree. The leaves are green and rubbery until they've been picked and dried, hardening into yellowish brown platters.

I look at her feet. Hair stops just below the anklebone. The skin on top is purple, and the ends of the toes and the soles are black. I notice that her hairless fingers are also a pale purple. I assume the rest of their skin, beneath all that hair, is purple, maybe darker toward the lower extremities. I ask her.

"You should see the newborns," she says. "They have hardly any hair at all for the first thirty or so sleep times. Their skin is almost as light as Ithwick's, but with a pale lavender hue. Their feet and hands are a little darker, but not much. Even Boris's feet are not black on the bottom yet. Look," she says, leaning down to part the hair on her lower leg.

It's the same color as her face, slightly lighter than her hands and not nearly as dark as her feet. I'm surprised, and I thank her for showing me.

"What about you? she says. You keep wearing your pants so I don't know the color of your legs."

"Pretty much the same as my face, arms, and hands," I say. "Chocolate."

I take off my boot liner that com to just below my knee. I wear them like moccasins.

"Chocolate?" she asks, and I realize that is something I've missed from my diet.

"You don't have any here," I say. "A food from a bean much like the lupo beans, but a darker brown."

"Let me see your feet."

I oblige. "Lighter instead of darker, like yours," I say.

"Like the palms of your hands," she observes, "Why is that?"

"Just the way nature made us, same as you, except we have less pigment in our hands and feet, instead of more as you do."

"Well," she says, patting my shoulder, "Our differences are far fewer than our similarities."

"We could be sisters."

"Yes, we are," she agrees. "Everyone who lives here is a sister or brother, but you feel more like a sister than many of the native Laeperians do."

Her comment makes me feel warm inside. I smile as I was the carved wooden spoons, used only when the food is too soupy to be eaten with fingers.

I'm almost finished when Ithwick runs past, shouting, "Did you hear that? Follow me, Maisewith." He climbs the steep hill to near the ceiling at the far end of the farthest sleeping chamber.

I've seen the periscope before. Ithwick, proud of his invention, showed it to me one day when we finished our assigned garden duties. It's a steep climb up to the opening where the first explorers entered when their spaceship crashed. It's where they brought Ithwick in when he was dropped near enough that they heard a pod land and take off. They're pretty in tune to such sounds, still hoping that a rescue will come, I guess.

"I saw it," Ithwick shouts. "The lights on the bottom of the pod."

"Let me see!"

"It's gone now. The lights just disappeared into the clouds."

He steps back and lets me look. There is nothing to see but swirling snow. I swing the scope up a little, a pale green light penetrates the thick clouds. Ithwick thinks it's a planet. I keep looking, slowly moving the periscope to scan the swirling snow. At first I see nothing but the pale green mist, lit by the glow of the setting planet. Then, slowly moving the periscope back across the landscape I see something black as the wind clears snow from it for an instant. "There," I say, moving back for Ithwick to look. "That spot of black lying in the snow."

"I don't see...," he begins.

"Keep looking. Sometimes the wind blows..."

"Oh, I see it. A black bundle, human size. A body bag like the one I was in."

"They dropped off another human to die?"

"Looks like it. Or maybe someone already dead."

Galso and a crowd of Laeperians have gathered below, looking and listening. Now Galso speaks. "Bring it in."

There is a gasp from the crowd, and Galso speaks again. "Any volunteers?"

"I'll go," I say. "I have warm clothing."

Galso nods, and Ithwick says, "While you put them on, I'll make an opening for you. He begins digging rocks away with his hands. Galing and Colmac climb up to help.

When I come back, dressed in all the protective gear I came with, they have cleared an opening just big enough for me to crawl through. Ithwick pulls back a sheet of heavy rubberized material that he's been holding over the hole. "From my body bag. It seals out the wind," he explains.

The greenish glow in the clouds is slipping slowly below the edge of the plain, and the twilight wanes. I wiggle through the opening quickly. It will be totally dark soon. I can't see the bag now. Knowing how quickly I can freeze out here, even in my clothing, I panic. I don't know which way to go. I look back at the periscope to see where it's aimed and walk in that direction. I hold the furred fringe my parka's hood over my nose and mouth, with just my goggle-covered eyes peeking out. I walk faster, still seeing nothing. As my hands and toes turn numb, I fear I've missed it. I let my hood fall away from my face to look around. Almost instantly, I feel sharp pain in my nose and cheeks. I pull the hood back to cover my face, and keep walking.

Still not seeing the black bag, I tell myself, if I don't come to it in ten more paces, I'll have to go back. With the next step, I trip, falling flat on my face in the cold powder. Pushing up quickly, I wipe snow from the bundle that tripped me. I find a grip by pulling back the zipper just enough to get my hand in. I drag the bag as I retrace me steps. Only I can't see my footprints for more than a meter. The wind has erased them, and it's getting so dark, I can barely make out the faint outline of the Rock. The slick bag doesn't weigh very much and slides easily on the snow-covered ice.

What if I can't find my way back? The thought brings heart-stopping terror, and I'm shocked to realize I do not want to die. I go faster in the general direction of the mountain, which I can't see anymore. I close my eyes as total darkness envelopes me. Isn't it funny, how having one's eyes closed in total darkness is less scary than having them open and still seeing nothing? My eyeballs feel cold against the inside of my eyelids. Even with the goggles on, they're so cold I wonder how they even work.

I should've run into the wall by now, but I haven't, and I'm afraid I missed it somehow. I'm so numb and tired, I want to stop and lie down. My body has quit its violent shaking, and I just want to crumple into the swirling powder, curl up, and sleep. I know if I do, I'll never rise again.

What was that? I stop and listen. Is the wind calling my name? With difficulty, I open my eyes. I see a small circle of light in the blackness ahead of me.

"Maisey! Here! Just a few more steps."

I stumble toward the light—and fall into the sweet peace and warmth of oblivion before I reach it.

Chapter 8

I awaken in a panic. I'm being smothered. I'm in pain, and I'm oh, so cold! Wild animals attacked out of nowhere and are holding me down. I buck and moan. They immediately roll off of me. The light is bright, and I blink.

"You okay?" Ithwick asks, tucking a blanket around my shoulders—covering my bare body.

"What's going on?" I ask. "Who...?"

"Maisewith. You were dying of hypothermia. We stripped you and took turns lying skin to skin. It's how you treat hypothermia. I thought you were going to die." A catch in his voice shows how scared he was.

I'm on the warm floor near the long table where we serve the food at the daily meal. Tyla is rubbing my hand. Understanding dawns. I was undressed, by someone, maybe Ithwick, and I woke with two Laeperians beside and over the top of me—until I squealed, and they jumped off. I look up into the concerned faces of Galing, Muleen, Tyla, Koki, and Ithwick.

"Are you warm now?" Galing asks.

Actually, I'm not. I'm shivering, and I realize that their body warmth kept me alive. I studied hypothermia in Basic School. Ithwick must have instructed the others to help. Or maybe they knew. They probably saved Ithwick in the same way. I rise up on my elbows as Ithwick leans over the black bag beside me, his hands inside it.

"Is it...?" I begin.

"She's alive," he says. "Her heart's beating, and she's breathing. Actually, she feels fairly warm."

As I peer in, a young girlish face scrunches, almond-shaped eyes open, revealing irises so dark, they look as black as her pupil.

She stares at the ceiling and speaks slowly in English. "This doesn't look like the recovery room."

A look of terror crosses her pretty face as Tyla, Muleen, and Galso lean in to look.

"No," Ithwick answers in English. "Did you have surgery?"

He pulls the blankets from around her head to reveal a thick bandage behind her left ear.

"Yes," the girl says, alarm pitching her voice a few notes higher. "Where am I?"

Galso asks for translation and Ithwick complies.

"Tell her," Galso commands.

"You are inside a cave on the ice moon, known here as Laeperia. On Costra we called it X-1-M-2." He asks, "Is Costra where you're from?"

"Yes, the last I remember, Jadith took me to the medical center in Imron City. She said I needed emergency surgery, but wouldn't tell me why."

I reach over, put my hand in her blankets and find them surprisingly warm. So warm I wish I could crawl in under her blankets, but I say, "At least they protected her from freezing. They must have expected us to find her and bring her in. That means they know we're here." I've spoken in Laeperia, and it's caused quite a stir. To the girl in the bag, I say, "I'm from Costra, too. And so is Ithwick. The rest of the people here are Laeperians. This moon is their home and they seem willing to share what they have. You will learn more about them in time."

I snug the blanket tighter around my shivering body and wait for Ithwick to translate to Galso and the others before I ask the girl her name.

"Wheatcry," she says, and quickly asks, "Did you say Ithwick?"

I nod.

"Then you must be Maisewith. Am I right?

"Yes. How did you know?" I ask. As she turns to look at Ithwick, I ask, "Did you say yours is Wheatcry? It's kind of unusual, but I guess no more than mine and Ithwick's."

"Jadith likes unusual names, even when people make fun of her." Wheatcry says

"Jadith?" Ithwick asks.

"Jadith Reems, my mother."

I notice a bitter edge to Ithwick's voice when he asks, "Did she adopt you as in a newborn, telling you your parents were killed in an automobile accident?"

"No, they adopted me as an infant from an orphanage in The Greater Eastern Asia Republic on the planet Earth."

Or so they told you, I think.

"A little less than three years later, they brought me to Costra,"she continues.

I ask, "So you have no idea what kind of emergency precipitated your surgery?"

"I think I do now that I see where they brought me, and how they kept me alive." Wheatcry pauses. "I'd like another surgery to find out."

"What do you think..." I begin, but Wheatcry puts a finger to her lips, and mouths, "Later."

Galso speaks when he hears everything via Ithwick's translation. "We have no anesthetic. How much pain can she bear?"

"A lot," Wheatcry says in answer to the translation, "But if you hurry, it won't be too bad. My head still feels numb."

After some discussion, Wheatcry is lifted to the table, body bag and all.

"We're going to turn you to your side, but keep you wrapped, except for your head," Ithwick says."

"Tell her to hold this in her mouth," Muleen orders, handing Maisewith a small piece of reddish orange wood. "It's bark from the topono tree. A sedative."

Wheatcry chews on it while Galso selects a knife with a blade made from obsidian. Ithwick gently removes the layers of bandage from Wheatcry's head.

Ithwick works in silence, removing stitches from a flap of skin, revealing stiff mesh that covers a perfectly round two-centimeter hole in her skull

Wheatcry winces when he pulls on the mesh.

"Oh, sorry," he says. "I didn't realize how far it was embedded beneath the skin."

"It's okay," Wheatcry says, tears belying her words.

Ithwick carefully works the mesh out and peers beneath it. "I'm going to pull on this thing. If it hurts, cry out, and I'll stop."

Wheatcry doesn't cry out, and soon Ithwick holds a small, metal disc in his hand. "It was just sitting in there. No attachments, just held in place by the mesh."

"What is it?" Galso asks.

Ithwick turns it over and uses the obsidian knife blade like a screw driver, removes a cover, and pulls a disc-shaped battery out. "I think it's a transmitter. A way of spying on us, listening to our voices and tracking her location."

"I'm not surprised," Wheatcry says, after I translate Ithwick's words. "The bigwigs in SCX and their associates were beginning to suspect something when they couldn't find either of you on images transmitted from the spy satellite they have monitoring this moon.

That's a bit of information I picked up by eavesdropping. And that's why they gave you warm clothing and a recorder."

"I didn't have a recorder," I say, "but they gave me a tablet that was supposed to transmit messages, I think. But there is no signal down here, I've checked."

I checked because as long as Jadith and company can't see what I am writing, I am keeping a journal. It gives me something to do when I can't sleep. I've missed learning, and so writing about everything and everyone I see in this underground prison stimulates my mind and gives me the feeling I'm doing something worthwhile and independent.

I start to get up and remember I'm completely naked beneath the covers. I quickly pull the blanket tighter around me and reach for my clothes. I pull on my shirt and shorts beneath the blanket, while Ithwick replaces the mesh in Wheatcry's head. Muleen gives him a sticky substance to tack the skin back in place. "It's sap from the garberry bush. We use it to heal cuts and scrapes."

I lean over Wheatcry and she says, "What if there are more? She might have put one like mine in your clothes."

I put my parka on to stop my shivering, and pinch the bottom of it, feeling for another spy disk. Nothing.

"Let's look carefully through everything," Wheatcry says. "Please unwrap me. I feel like a mummy, and then we can search the blankets."

As we begin removing layers, Ithwick exclaims, "What's this?" and picks up a palm-sized instrument encased in hard polymer. "It's hot. It's a heater." He hands it to me. "Put it in the lining of your parka. We need to get you warm, Maisey. It'll be good for you to wear it if you ever have to go out again." He looks at me with deep concern. "I was so afraid you weren't going to make it back."

I smile. "What did you risk saving me?"

"An uncomfortable nanosecond. You were within reach. I dragged you in, and Galing reached out and pulled Wheatcry in."

"Do you think they put a spy disc in my head?"

"I doubt it, or they wouldn't have put the tablet, which, I suspect, automatically transmits, in your parka. Maybe since they expected you to record and send messages to them, and you didn't, they decided to put one in Wheatcry's head.

"You're right," Wheatcry says as she wiggles out of the remaining blanket and stands. She is a few inches shorter than me, has straight black hair, cut in a bob on one side, but shaved bald on the other around the surgical wound. She has a tiny figure, barely budding breasts and is dressed in pajama bottoms and a long-sleeved T-shirt. She's wearing warm slippers. An expression of rapture enhances her lovely face as she looks around and gazes at the ceiling.

"I feel like I'm inside a giant, sparkling geode," she exclaims.

"You are," I say.

I feel better since putting the heater in my parka. As I quit shaking, I lie back on the blankets on the floor. The warmer I get, the drowsier I become. I hear Galso say, "We have many questions, but first, we need sleep. We'll have a meeting when everyone rises and before we go to work."

Chapter 9

Apparently, I'm expected to be Wheatcry's tutor, and Ithwick has relinquished his bed. I'm sure this is an order from Galso, though Ithwick doesn't say so. He will sleep on the floor in a different bedroom until he can make a bed. I show Wheatcry the lanterns and washroom, and finally her bed between mine and the wall. Once we are finally settled, I take out my tablet.

"Each evening, I mark the end of a wake period, in order to keep some track of time, though I don't know how it compares to Earth or Costra time," I explain, "and then I write about the day. It's rare that I have anything remarkable to write about, but today was certainly one of those times."

Wheatcry watches me. "Wheatcry? What's that?" She asks when I enter her name. "Oh, you mean me. I guess that is what it sounds like, but that's not how it's spelled. It's H-u-i-t-c-r-a-i. Huitcrai."

"Oh," I say. "I'd never have guessed it. Maybe it's of Asian origin."

"No, I was called Lily when I lived in the orphanage. The Reems renamed me."

"Lily's such a pretty name," I say. "I can't see why anyone would want to change it. I wonder where they get such unusual names."

"Oh, look. You misspelled Ithwick, too. Though the pronunciation would be the same, it's I-t-h-w-a-i-c."

I make the correction and then swipe the pad to close it. "You must be tired. I know I am. You'll want some rest before Galso's meeting."

"Yes, I hope I can get to sleep before my head starts hurting. It hasn't yet."

"Do you want another stick like the one Muleen gave you?"

"I still have it. I'll use it if I need to. It seemed to help."

When I cover the lamp, Huitcrai asks, "Do you ever miss Jadith and Jedd?"

I almost blurt, "Never!" but after thinking for a moment, I say, "Sometimes. They are the only parents I've ever known, even if they were gone a lot. Mostly, I miss my nanny."

"Me too," Huitcrai agrees. The next moment her slow, even breathing tells me she's asleep.

Tired as I am, sleep eludes me as my mind rehashes the day and everything Huitcrai told us. I lie awake long into the night trying to reconcile the sometimes loving, protective mother I wanted to believe with one who could use her kids and then throw them away like used diapers.

I can't sleep as my memories tumble through my brain—like the time I told Jadith about kids teasing me for not remembering things they swear I did, things I don't remember at all.

"Why do they say I gave a lecture and demonstration in front of the class? I would remember if I had."

She gave me a disgusted look and said, "Maybe you need your head examined." The next day she sent me to Martina.

Sometimes it was my dreams that precipitated a surgery. I quit telling them, but, according to Jadith, I talked in my sleep, and that bothered her, too. I remember another thing, which I now believe prompted a private meeting between Jedd, Jadith, and Martina and Howard Johnson, and the surgery I had at age twelve. I had just confided in Jadith that I sometimes heard random voices in my head. Words that had nothing to do with what I knew. When I repeated what I heard, the adults seemed alarmed. They operated again, and the voices stopped.

Later, they started up again, but I was careful not to let on. I didn't want any more brain surgeries. They left me with the feeling of loss, something important missing. The voices, which had become a big part of me are gone now. I miss them. Tears fill my eyes, as I remember the look of alarm on Martina's face for something I said. I don't even remember what. "What did you say? Where did you hear that?" she exclaimed in horror. She called another meeting and the next thing I knew I was alone on a cold, lifeless plain.

As we leave the sleeping chamber after waking and bathing, Ithwaic asks Huitcrai, "How do you feel?"

"Tired, but no headache, just a little soreness."

"Good," Ithwaic says, "Galso is anxious to call an assembly. Are you up to being grilled in front of everyone?"

"I'll be fine, as long as I can sit," Huitcrai answers.

Ithwaic translates to Galso. I see that everyone is gathering in the auditorium, most already seated.

"We'll give her the middle chair," Galso says. "It reclines and has a footrest."

As the stragglers come out of the bedrooms, Galso directs them to the auditorium. Once we are all seated, Huitcrai in the center, Ithwaic and I on each side of her, Galso next to Ithwaic and Muleen next to me, Galso asks Huitcrai to repeat her name.

When she does, the Laeperians in the room, repeat it back in unison, adding "We welcome you," Which I translate for the astonished girl.

Galso asks her to repeat her story as told so far. She does, briefly.

Muleen asks how she feels now. "Do you need a rest?"

Huitcrai says she's okay.

Galso nods, and Ithwaic tells Huitcrai, "Continue. I'll translate."

"Well, before I was taken to Imron for surgery, I knew Jadith was furious with me. I was afraid of what she would do. I guess I didn't expect to wake up at all."

Ithwaic translates, telling Galso that Jadith is their mother. Mother to all three of them.

"Some mother!" Muleen exclaims.

"Why was she so angry?" I ask Huitcrai.

"I found out more than I was ever supposed to know. I became alarmed when I overheard Jedd say, 'This isn't working either, Jadith. Maybe we need a mental retard. Someone who expresses emotion but doesn't reason well.' I stopped outside their bedroom to listen. Jadith said, 'I know of a child with brain damage. His parents work on the assembly line at the Johnson and Reems aerospace craft assembly plant. Common laborers.' And then she added, "And we need to find out how subjects are disappearing on X-1's moon. The tracker tablet in Maisey's parka didn't work. The sound was too muffled. Then she must have turned it off. But I'm sure one of the voices I heard at first was Ithwaic's. We've got to find out how that can be."

After a pause to let Ithwaic translate, she continued, "I heard Jedd get out of bed to get a drink, so I hurried back to my room. Two days later, I managed to hack into Jadith's on-line journal. I had just located a folder with my name on it when Jadith caught me. She took my tablet away from me, so all I have is suspicion that we've been used for some kind of experiment that failed."

"So they dispose of us by taking us to this distant moon?" Ithwaic asks. "There are cheaper ways to dispose of unwanted bodies."

"I think I know the answer to that, too, due to my talent for listening when people forget I'm there." Huitcrai says. "This moon is a natural deep freeze. It's because of the thick clouds that never go away. Subjects have been left here for years and later retrieved for experiments. People freeze so quickly, they can be brought back to life and reused, or their frozen bodies work well for dissection. Because they freeze solid so fast, they don't decompose."

"So they dumped us here expecting us to freeze to death. Now they know we didn't," I muse, pointing to the recorder. "What will they do with that information?"

Galso frowns. Ithwaic and Huitcrai meet my gaze. Who knows? I guess time will tell.

After the meeting, Galso orders me to teach Huitcrai the Laeperian language, while everyone else goes to their assigned work stations. We go to the bedroom so she can rest. Ithwaic gives us a smile as we pass him. He's making a bed from tree branches and a web of vines to hold a thin mattress. Sleeping on the rock floor is bearable, but too warm to be comfortable in places where underground springs heat it. There are extra pads, pillows, and blankets made from cotton-like fruit of one of the bushes at the edge of the forest. The blankets that came wrapped around Huitcrai are more than enough for her. She chooses one and the rest are stored in the same closet as my outerwear.

While Huitcrai rests, I sit on the edge of my bed and begin a lesson in vocabulary. It isn't long before she fails to answer and I hear the soft soughing sounds of sleep.

I pull my tablet from under my pillow. As I type, I think of what Huitcrai said about Jadith saying my voice was muffled. Evidently, at the part of the cave close to the opening, the tablet was transmitting. I check for signal and get none. This room is far enough from the opening, and lower. The wooden walls and ceiling are insulating, too. I'll have to be careful not to leave my tablet on when I take it outside the bedroom. Its batteries are charged by solar power. Of course, there is no sun here, but, thankfully, I found that the crystals in the main room will power it. I found a hiding place for it on a ledge where I can store it during the day.

I type about the things Huitcrai has told me and my thoughts about them until I fall asleep too.

A couple of sleep times later, a commotion in the garden catches my attention as Huitcrai and I sit on flat stones for our language lesson. I see the twins tugging on something small and black as Loca shouts, "Give it to me. I saw it first."

"No," Mylan says. "I found it."

I jump up and run to retrieve it when I see what it is. "Give me that. What are you doing with my tablet? You know it isn't yours. Don't you ask before you help yourself to someone else's belongings?"

"No, we don't," Mylan says, looking at me in surprise as she lets go of the electronic pad.

Loca, who was pulling so hard she falls down, flings the tablet. It bounces off a wall and crashes to the floor. I reach to pick it up, but someone beats me to it.

Galso towers over me, holding the tablet over his head.

"May I have it, please. I'll put it away."

"You may not."

"It's mine."

"There is no such thing as mine in this community," Galso says. "I thought you'd been here long enough to know that. Everything belongs to everyone. You see what a problem it is when an individual claims something?"

"What? That would mean that anyone could wear my parka and pants, use my goggles..."

Loca interrupts, "No one wants to. They stink!"

I know that's likely true. I perspired a lot coming through the steaming chamber to get here.

Kaltka who is standing nearby, says sweetly, "Loca, can you think of a nicer way to speak about that? If not, you should probably not say it."

"Then I'd get in trouble, because it's true. Her things smell bad. Is that better?"

Kaltka says, "That's why we wrapped them in kulpy leaves and put them on the top shelf where they won't bother anyone."

Galso interrupts, sends the twins to the garden to pull weeds, and glares at me. "I don't know what this is, except that it is evil, I won't have it in my society."

"But I need it. It's..."

Perlay, a middle-aged female who has been standing silently beside Kaltka touches my arm. "Won't you come with me, Maisewith. Have you seen the kulpy tree?"

I watch in horror as Galso drops my tablet in the drain that falls to an unknown black void to be flushed away to some underground vault or river.

"No," I yelp, reaching for Galso's arm, but Perlay grabs my hand and gains my attention. I see a warning written in fear on her face and follow. Kaltka, one of the sweetest ladies I've met in Laeperia, takes Galso's arm and says, "I've been meaning to talk to you about the next planting. I've noticed that we tend to run out of..."

But I don't hear the rest as Perlay hurries me across the garden. When we are in the forest she whispers, "I saw that you were about to argue with Galso. No good can come from that. I've noticed he has his eyes on you."

"What does that mean, Perlay? What can he do to me for standing up for myself?"

"He has more power than he claims," Perlay says in a low voice. "But please don't repeat my words to anyone."

"What words? What's wrong with anything you said?"

Perlay looks around as if afraid she's been overheard. I can't imagine what she's afraid of.

In a normal voice she says. "Galso gives us direction, and we look up to him, but he always asks the entire population before making decisions that affect us all."

"He didn't ask anyone before he threw away my..."

Perlay elbows me, and I look where she's looking. Loca is hiding only a short distance away. She sees us looking at her and puts a finger to her lips. "I'm hiding from Mylan."

As Mylan approaches, she yells that she spies her sister, and both twins turn their attention to Perlay and me.

Perlay says, "This is the kulpy tree. Smell its leaves. Notice how big they are. We use them for many things.

"Thanks for the lesson, Perlay." I say. I squeeze her hand to let her know I understand that the lesson includes the warning, Don't cross Galso.

Chapter 10

It's been more than ninety sleeps since Huitcrai came. We know because she devised a way of keeping track after Galso threw my tablet away. We collect twigs, put them inside our lanterns. When we have thirty, we replace them with one that's twice as long and start over. We now have three long ones and two short ones.

Huitcrai has adapted to this life joyously. She has many friends among the Laeperians. She speaks their language fluently, never reverting to English even when it's just the two of us. She chats happily with those around her while she works. She and Koki have become fast friends, leaving me alone more often. Sometimes I envy Huitcrai her outgoing personality. But I'm glad she's here. Especially at night when we can talk privately, since I no longer have my tablet to record my thoughts.

Hoping for a break in the monotony, I listen for the sound of spacecraft. Even though I've never heard one, I climb the hill at the back of the auditorium every chance I get to scan the outside world through the periscope. I search for any change in the ever-white, shifting landscape of a cold flat world. But, there is nothing new to see.

I'm on my way back down the hill when I hear a shriek louder and more piercing than any I've ever heard before.

The screaming heightens. I'm stunned for a moment but soon join the Laeperians running to the eating area. "What is it?" I ask, pushing through the gathering crowd.

"Someone has died," Galing says.

The sound swells into a loud keening, shriller than all the sirens on Costra.

By the time I reach the eating area, a woman is lying on the table on a blanket. Galso leans over her as Muleen gently closes her eyes. I recognize her as Kaltka, a jovial woman who often worked beside me in the kitchen. She used to sing while she worked, and I loved hearing her voice.

"What happened?' I ask of anyone who will answer. No one does.

Blood is splattered and pooled on the ground where she must have fallen, and long leaves of the maize-like kassell plant are wrapped around her wrist.

"It was an accident," Perlay blusters. "My hand slipped, I mean she slipped. I don't know."

As answers are gradually prodded out of Perlay, Galso looks on with his arms folded over his broad chest, his expression intense, his brow furrowed.

The women had been working on a large chunk of obsidian, one on each side, breaking off shards to use as knives and other tools. Perlay said she'd just managed to break off a large slice of obsidian and picked it up to show Kaltka. When Kaltka raised her hand to take it, she accidentally raked her wrist along the razor-sharp edge of the new blade.

"Why didn't you try to staunch the bleeding?" Muleen asks

"I didn't see she was hurt at first. Not until she fell. Then I tripped in my haste to get to her and fell on top of her."

I notice Bilkar, a young woman I've often worked alongside, shaking her head. Tears pour down her face.

Galso regards her, and with a slight nod, announces, "Meeting. Everyone come," and heads to the auditorium. For the first time, I take a seat in the audience. Huitcrai clings to my side. On the stage, Galso sits in the middle chair, Perlay on his right, and Muleen on his left, with Bilkar beside Muleen.

Kaltka's body lies lonely on the table as everyone obediently takes a seat in the cavernous, crystal-lit room. He tells Perlay to stand and tell everyone her account of the incident. The acoustics in here are amazing. Sitting near the back in a room with 200 people, I hear every word clearly. Perlay repeats what I heard her say at the table, adding, "Before I could get to my feet, I saw it was too late to save her. So much blood. It made me dizzy. I am going to be sick. Please believe me."

She wipes at blood stains on her hairy arms and chest.

At Galso's command, she sits. He asks Bilkar to stand. "Tell us what you saw."

Bilkar is trembling, and her voice is broken by sobs, but she clears her throat and begins, "I was coming with an armload of wood for the meal's fire and noticed that Kaltka and Perlay were working on the same block of glass rock. I hurried because I thought it was dangerous for them to be standing so close. Chips can fly. As I came closer Kaltka raised her hand to take another blow at the rock. Perlay, instead of backing away, stepped closer and reached across the block with a sharp blade." Bilkar bursts into tears. Galso waits.

"Go on," he says when she's able to control her sobs.

"It was too late for Kaltka to stop her downward plunge. She may not even have seen the blade. Her arm struck the sharp edge just between her hand and forearm. Blood spurted everywhere. I dropped my load and rushed to try to stop the bleeding, but Perlay saw me coming and dropped on top of her. She blocked my way, and when she stood up. She pushed me back." In another burst of sobs Bilkar wails, "Kaltka was my friend, and I couldn't help her."

Muleen puts her arms around Bilkar as she crumples into her chair.

Galso watches for a moment and then says, "Muleen?"

Muleen stands and reports, "I came running when I heard Bilkar's scream. I was too late. Kaltka's life had already flowed from her. Her wrist was sliced to the bone."

Tears stream down Muleen's cheeks as well. She quickly drops beside Bilkar and wraps her in an embrace as their low keening pitches together.

Galso turns to Perlay. She flinches.

"Why?" he demands.

"It was an accident. I didn't see her arm coming down. I didn't mean to get in the way."

A male Laeperian stands in the audience. Galso acknowledges him. "Bexel, come forward."

When Bexel gains the stage, he says. "I may know the motive."

Who asked for a motive? She said it was an accident! I think, wishing I could stop whatever Bexel has to say.

"Speak." Galso's gruff voice rings loud and clear.

"I am the keeper of the list. As is my duty, when someone hangs at death's door, as the aged Verlok is now, I inform the couples whose marks are at the top of the list. That is Kaltka and Atheron. Perlay and Koshin are second. If Kaltka told Perlay, perhaps she wanted her dead to move her mark to the top."

"Did she tell you of her good news?" Galso asks Perlay.

"N...n...No," she stammers between body-wrenching sobs.

I'm shocked when I see my young friend, Koki, stand. Galso acknowledges her and beckons her to the front.

"I bore witness," she says, her voice shaky, "and according to the rules, I'm obligated to tell."

"Tell," Galso orders.

"I sleep next to Kaltka and Perlay sleeps next to her on the other side. I put my light off last sleep time, and just as Kaltka reached to cover hers, Perlay said, 'Why are you so happy?' And she was. I'd noticed it too. Kaltka's face was shining, and her smile was full. Kaltka answered in a whisper, but I heard her. She said, 'Verlok will depart in a few more cycles. Then it will be my turn to couple with Atheron.'"

"And?" Galso prompts.

"Well, when Perlay answered, I thought she sounded angry," Koki continues. "She said, 'You'll have to be rid of the hairless aliens first.' That's all I know. Just that Perlay heard Kaltka's news."

Galso dismisses Koki and Bexel and explains, "It was decided between Bexel and me that we should continue the tradition of the list when Verlok leaves us, for even though we have exceeded 200 by two, for some time, we are more than keeping up. With the healthy, young outsiders doing their share of gardening, we have more than enough." He turns to Perlay, and demands. "Is it true? Did Kaltka tell you?"

Instead of answering, Perlay jumps from the stage and runs, blindly, wailing, "No, no, no."

"Take her to Lockup." Galso's order has barely left his lips before three young Laeperian males grab her and drag her to a small chamber on the far side of the auditorium and secure the door.

"Now we vote," Galso says, "Those who see a lie in Perlay, stand."

Everyone stands. All the Laeperians that I can see stand against Perlay. I don't. Nor does Ithwaic. "How can they be so sure?" he whispers.

Huitcrai squirms. "What's going on? Why are they standing?"

"To condemn Perlay to a horrible death," Ithwaic says, his voice bitter.

Before we are dismissed, Galso makes an announcement.

"Next wake time, a passing ceremony for Kaltka. All will attend.

"Wake time two, a First-Rule lesson and the ending of Perlay and deceit. All will attend.

"Wake time three, a preparation day. Chosen ones and their nurturers will attend.

"Wake time four, a coupling. All will attend. Now as you were." He strides off the platform to a door behind it.

When he enters his special chamber with Muleen behind him, we all flow out of the auditorium. I avert my eyes as we pass Kaltka's unattended body, still lying on the table.

Huitcrai waits until we're working side by side in the garden to ask me what Galso meant. "I've figured out that he means we'll have a funeral or some kind of memorial service for Kaltka next wake day," she says, "but does he really mean that Perlay will be executed, without any more of a trial than that short bit of circumstantial evidence the next day? And what did he mean by lesson? We have to watch so we won't be inclined to murder someone?"

"Not murder," I say between clenched teeth. I'm so angry I can hardly contain it. I wonder what would happen if I approached Galso, screamed in his face and told him to release Perlay. Tears fill my eyes as I remember Perlay's warning about Galso. She was genuinely afraid of him. Rightly so, obviously.

"Maisewith? Didn't they just find her guilty of murder?" Huitcrai repeats.

"No. Worse than that in Galso's twisted brain."

"What then? What is worse than murder?"

"Deceit," I say bitterly. "If they hadn't all decided she was guilty of lying, they wouldn't put her to death." Bitterly, not caring who hears me, I recite Galso's all-important rule. "Complete transparency and honesty are essential to the survival of the community, so a lie or any kind of deceit including withheld information..."My voice breaks and I stop.

"So, what happens at wake-time two?"

"I guess we'll see, whether we want to or not. Ithwaic once told me it's something I never want to see."

Huitcrai groans, then asks, "What is preparation day?"

"I have no idea. At least we won't have to attend, whatever it is."

"And coupling?"

I repeat what Ithwaic told me about the list. "Only when someone dies is anyone allowed to copulate, and then only with permission for the couple at the top of the list. That one couple is allowed to be together until a baby is born to take the dead one's place."

Huitcrai is frowning and shaking her head. "Then what did he mean that everyone would attend? Surely having intercourse is a private affair."

"Not from what I've heard. It's part of a big celebration."

"Ewww. I would hate that. I'll make sure my name is never added to the list, "Huitcrai says.

"I totally agree. I was asked once, and of course I refused."

"I guess they don't waste any time for mourning the dead," Huitcrai says.

"Maisewith," Koki calls, coming quickly to where we work in the garden. "I have a message for you from Muleen. You are to go at once to the meeting room."

"What meeting room?"

"You know. Behind the stage. Where Galso and Muleen went after the trial. They are waiting for you."

Trial? Some trial! I think as I walk through the garden, the eating area, and the auditorium to Galso's chamber. I hope I'm not next. But why else would they call me? Did someone tell them I withheld information regarding Perlay? I didn't. Or maybe I've been overheard speaking English to Huitcrai after the lessons ended. As I think of how Koki spoke up about Perlay's lie, sealing the woman's fate, I cringe. Koki and everyone else here are guided by fear for their lives, so they tell everything they know.

Transparency, bah! It means ratting on each other. I try to think of anything someone might have overheard me say that could be construed as a lie. On Costra, as a means of self-preservation, I learned to keep quiet about what I knew, what I thought, and how I felt. Habits are hard to break. By the time I reach the meeting room, I'm ready to plead for my life without even knowing my crime.

The door is open. I say, "You wished to see me?" with an even voice that doesn't betray that I'm literally shaking inside.

Muleen rises from a chair and beckons me in. Galso is gone; for that much, I'm thankful.

"We need to get better acquainted, Maisewith," Muleen says. "You've been here more than 300 sleep times, and we have never talked about female things. I've been negligent."

I'm confused. Am I in trouble for not being more open about my periods? Is being discreet about personal hygiene considered lack of transparency? Why this concern now? She must be leading up to something. I stare, waiting for her to explain.

"Laeperians, as far as we can tell, are little different from you, Ithwaic, and Huitcrai. We are more interested in the ways we are the same, than any minor differences."

She looks at me expectantly, so I say, "I can only speak to the obvious. You have more hair on your bodies. Other than that..." I let my voice trail off.

"Yes. I'm sure you've noticed we all have the same anatomy: the same number or fingers and toes, the same wide hips for the females, the same hanging pipes on the males, allowing them to stand to relieve themselves of urine, while we females get to sit." She studies my face before adding, "Their pipe has other purposes, too, as I'm sure you know."

I feel my face burn and know it must be bright red. I can only nod.

"What about your biological cycle? In Laeperia, as was the case, of course, on Jalspar, the planet our ancestors originated from, new life comes from the union of a male and a female. She holds the egg and his sperm gives it life. She carries it in her body for 250 to 300 sleep cycles and then an infant springs from her loins. Is that how it is in your world?"

"Yes. I don't know how sleep cycles compare to days on Costra, but I think it's close to the same."

"Of course, the woman must be ready."

I stare. Am I supposed to answer that?

"We know, of course, that you have cycles where you leak blood from your female orifice. We all do. Yours seems to be heavier and last longer but occurs with the same regularity."

"Yes," I murmur, still blushing. It took me a while when I got here to see how little menstruation bothers the women here. They just let it leak down their furry legs and then sit in the water to wash it off at the end of the day. I found absorbent leaves to tuck in my underpants.

"Of course, those as young as Koki and Huitcrai, have not begun, I've noticed," Muleen continues, "so our reproductive development seems identical."

"Yes. I guess."

"You guess?"

"I mean it would seem so. I haven't been as observant as you have."

She gives me a look and continues, "We've determined that it is approximately five to ten sleep cycles from the time the drainage ends that a woman is ripe for developing a child."

She waits, but I say nothing.

"Is it the same for you?"

"I think so." I wish she'd get off this subject and tell me what I'm here for.

"When a woman here gives birth, she also produces nourishment for her baby from her breasts which swell to great fullness."

"It's the same where I come from," I answer stiffly.

"It seems there is very little difference between us, then, is there, Maisewith?" Muleen asks with a satisfied smile.

I shrug. "Not much difference." And physically, there really isn't, but what's her point?

"You may return to your work. I'm glad we had this discussion."

"Um, yes. Thank you, Muleen," I mutter as I leave.

That was weird! I expected to be reprimanded at least or locked up and tried for some unknown misstep, not a sex talk. Did she think her lecture would make me feel better? Maybe she wants to show me how much alike we are, so I will feel like I fit in. That's kind of sweet. But it also shows how different we are when it comes to modesty—or is it body-shaming we humans on Costra are so good at? I guess in a society where complete transparency is the rule, running around naked and talking freely about bodily functions—including sexual intercourse—men openly drawing attention to self-stimulated erections, is as normal as talking about the weather, which of course, I remind myself, isn't a good analogy since the weather here never changes.

Chapter 11

Tears dampen the faces of everyone I see as Kaltka's body is gently placed on a frame over the fire pit in the eating area. It's where all our food is cooked, and the only place where a cleft in the high ceiling vents to the outside, somewhere high above us. Atheron, a man I hardly know, and Kaltka's would-have-been mate, steps forward and lights the kindling beneath the woven branches on which her body rests. As he steps back, he begins a low wail that rises slowly to a high-pitched, keening whine. Everyone joins in, matching his notes.

The acrid smell of burning hair assaults my nose. I choke. The fire roars as, one by one, Laeperians come forward and pick up a piece of firewood from the pile and place it in the flames. As they do, they raise their voices. "Farewell, my sister. May your journey beyond the cloud be swift and easy." and "May your light ever shine from the worlds above." Similar wishes and words of bereavement are expressed over and over as the fire roars higher. It's becoming unbearably hot as everyone who knew her, which is all of Laeperia's 200 inhabitants, adds fuel to the fire and chants a blessing for her next life.

I'm thinking of escape when I feel a nudge. Muleen hands me a stick, indicating it's my turn. I take the stick and close my eyes, seeing the face of a dear friend, as Kaltka had become, instead of the blackened flesh and bones among the burning wood.

"Farewell, dear Kaltka. I'll miss your kind smile."

The fire burns through the night as Atheron stays awake to tend it. By wake time, there is nothing left but badly charred, half-consumed bones. Atheron has gone to his chamber to sleep while others gather the bones. They carry them to the bathroom at the back of the chamber where I sleep and drop them into the chasm into which the water falls into unknown depths after it leaves our bathing tubs.

I feel sick. My weariness with this place increases to loathing. The fire seems to have used up all the oxygen, and everyone drags about. I hated the monotony, but it was better than this sorrow and the sickening sights and smells of death. The cave entrance is partially opened to let out some of the smoke that has drifted into all the rooms, and icy air flows in. Soon, men are forced to cover the opening to block out the cold. By the time they finish they are blowing on their hands to warm them.

I'd like to forget the funeral pyre and go back to pulling weeds. But no one moves without an order. We wait, tense and solemn.

At last Galso orders everyone to the assembly auditorium. I seek a chair in the back, but someone redirects me. "The back is for the aged. Move forward," he says.

No matter where I try to sit, I'm told I'm too young to sit there. "Move forward." Finally, I sit between Ithwaic and Huitcrai in the next to front row. I conjure up memories from a different world to keep my mind from what is about to happen. It seems I can only remember the lies I told, glad I can't be punished for what happened in a faraway world where I lied in self-defense, where Jadith encouraged me to lie.

"I saw you handing out fliers at the symposium," I remember my nemesis taunting.

"Me too," said her cohort. "When we went up to talk to you, you acted as if you didn't know us. Just handed us a flier and said your spiel in that stilted voice you get."

I didn't know what they were talking about, but I knew enough by then not to deny it. "Um, sorry," I managed. "They tell me exactly what to say and warn me not to talk to anyone."

"Why can't you talk to your friends?" As if they ever wanted to be my friends.

"They say I'll miss someone important who needs a flier." That sounded lame even to me. But then I made the mistake of telling Jadith about it, because I was tired of being told I did something I didn't do. I demanded an explanation.

"You did the right thing to answer like that, dear." She patted me on the back as she praised my lie.

"But what is the truth? If they saw me there, why don't I remember it?" I asked.

Jadith sighed, and I see that her mind is working, conjuring a story that will likely be untrue.

"It wasn't you," she finally said. "That's why you don't remember. Jedd is in a contest to see who can build the most life-like robot. Yours was the face he used as it was the easiest for him to duplicate, being the most familiar to him."

As if Jedd ever paid that much attention to me, I think, as I sit here analyzing it.

"So where is it?" I asked Jadith. "I want to see it.

"Oh, it's not here. He let Murphy's team borrow it," Jadith said rather too quickly.

All lies, as it was easy to tell. Did she ever tell me the truth about anything?

"So where was I while the robot was at the symposium?" I persisted.

"I don't know." Jadith's voice turned harsh and impatient. "Probably sleeping. You do that a lot, you know."

Yes, I remember many times when I would wake up or come to in a different place from where I last remembered being, wondering how I got there and what I'd missed.

Ithwaic nudges me. Galso is mounting the stage, carrying a knife, a pointed stick, and ropes made of vines. I shudder and swallow hard. I want to run. As I shift forward, Ithwaic grasps my hand and holds it tight. "Try to leave, they'll drag us back," he whispers and nods at men standing under the archway on both side of the auditorium. "Just close your eyes and fill your mind with something else."

One glance at Ithwaic's ashen face tells me he doesn't want to be here either. Huitcrai stares without moving and seems to be locked in a trance. There is no sound, not a murmur from the one thousand people that fill the room.

Four strong Laeperians carry Perlay, each man holding one of her arms or legs. She makes no sound until she sees the instruments of torture. Then she screams and writhes, fighting those who constrain her. Galso hands Atheron a cloth—when did he come on stage?— and holds Perlay's head. Atheron forces the cloth into her mouth. Her screams turn to moans and gagging sounds.

I squeeze my eyes closed and move away in my mind. I remember finding myself standing in the frigid wasteland of snow and ice and remembering nothing of how I got there or anything that took place before. I thought I would die of the cold until I fell into the crevasse and entered the underground world. My memory of the sulfur chamber is so vivid it blocks out the horrors taking place on the stage.

But Galso's voice booms and pulls me back. "When ears hear the news of a friend's long-awaited fortune, but are not gladdened, those ears will hear no more." I open my eyes for a second and see Galso hand Atheron a knife made of razor-sharp obsidian, exactly like the one I recently used to peal a tuber. I hear a shrieked, "Noooo!" and realize it came from my mouth as Ithwaic grabs my hand and pulls me back into my seat. A stout Laeperian moves from the doorway and stands at the end of the row, crosses his arms across his broad chest and glares at me.

Trembling, I close my eyes and fill my mind with a memory to block out Perlay's groans.

"Closed eyes in this room shall soon see their own misfortune," Galso roars.

I open my eyes and one quick glance shows blood streaming down the side of Perlay's face. I meet Galso's penetrating stare. He seems to be looking at me alone before his gaze moves on to others. I stare forward, focusing on a pale blue, crystal wall, but the stage remains in my periphery. My mind searches for anything outside this room to think on, but Galso's voice is too loud. "Eyes that see another's fortune and turn their hearts to envy shall see no more."

I panic. No. I won't watch. I won't listen. Eyes still on the wall, I reel my mind back to a time long ago and a place far away.

The smog is worse than ever, and my gas mask barely protects my throat. My eyes burn. I'm walking with Jadith tas she tells me I'll soon board a spaceship to take me to a paradise, called Costra.

"What's it like?" I ask her.

"You'll be able to breathe without a mask. Every day. There are no times on that planet when the pollution is so bad that one can't breathe. The Earth is dying, Maisewith. There will not be many more chances for people to get off this planet."

"What will happen to those left behind?" I asked as I clung to her hand.

"They'll have to find a way to survive. That will require a long trek away from the cities. I've heard there are still some animals that have survived in distant wilderness. People who are tenacious will find a way to get meat and grow vegetables. It will once again be the survival of the fittest."

Galso's loud voice penetrates my thoughts. "Proceed, Atheron."

A collective gasp breaks my concentration. My eyes open wide at the sharp screams of the twins in front of me. I make the mistake of glancing at the stage as Atheron yanks a pointed stick from Perlay's face, pulling out an eyeball, dripping blood, skewered on it. I want to run. I even start to, but Ithwaic grips my thigh in warning. Galso is staring at me. When he sees he has my attention, he roars, "A tongue that speaks words that are not impeccably true shall never speak again," Galso roars.

Little Boris, sitting between the twins, throws himself on the floor kicking and shrieking. I reach over the bench to pick him up, but a guard beats me to it.

"I'll hold him," I shout.

He shoves me back in my chair. Galso stares at me. Waiting. "Let me hold Boris. This is too much." Tears stream down my face as Galso continues to stare. He waves the guard away. The guard places Boris's now limp body on the floor. And Galso returns to his torture exhibition.

I can't stand it. I stare at Boris. He's breathing, apparently unconscious, not dead. Ithwaic squeezes my hand. "Think of something else," he whispers.

I close my eyes, do my best to block out the sights and sounds around me by concentrating hard on another memory of Jadith, my last.

"Missy, I have a surprise for you. I'm sending you on another mission, but first one last surgery. I promise there will be no other—ever."

Missy?

I asked her, "Did you call me Missy? You never have before." And she laughed and said something I was still trying to figure out when they put me on the table and pushed anesthesia into my vein. She said, "I'm taking the A out of your life, so why not out of your name. By the way, you'll never again be plagued with lost time and lost memories. People telling you things you don't remember? That won't happen again."

I can't understand why she's laughing, my last thought before I stood on a field of ice and snow that would have frozen me instantly if they hadn't dressed me in insulated clothing and left me close to a mountain that I luckily fell into. The memory grips me, as I analyze her words. One thing she said is true. Since I've been here, I've never had anyone tell me I said or did something I don't remember.

I wish I did. I wish I had no memory of anything that has just occurred. But I've lost my concentration, and Galso's voice pulls me back. "Now we stop the faithless heart that allows such lies."

I close my eyes and cover my ears until I feel Ithwaic's elbow in my side. "It's over."

When I open my eyes, I see Atheron lying face down on the floor, his whole body shaking. Galso kicks him and says, "Get up!" Then Galso stares at me. I'm frozen in fear, for his eyes stay on me as four men carry Perlay's limp body from the room.

Galso orders us file out in an orderly fashion and follow the body to the fire pit where a pyre has already been built and wood arranged beneath it. Because we had to sit near the front, we are also nearest the pyre. Kochin, Perlay's would-have-been mate—lights the fire. This time, there is no keening. No one steps forward to utter a word to bless Perlay's journey to the stars. But I see Kochin discreetly wipe his eyes.

"Turn away all of you whose deceit has been forever purged from your soul today." Galso watches as all 197 Laeperians and three Costrans turns their backs to the fire. We remain so until Galso dismisses us to our work stations.

When called to the daily meal, I refuse to eat. I can't sleep or even speak. As I listen to Huitcrai's sobs throughout the night, I berate myself for not warning her to block her mind as Ithwaic warned me. Even though I tried very hard not to, I heard enough to be horrified as Perlay was cruelly, brutally tortured while everyone watched. I'd rather be dead than living in a society capable of the torture of a woman punished, not for the act of murder, which she denied was anything but an accident, but for defending herself in a way that could be construed as lying.

I go through the motions of work in a daze of darkness and confusion, unable to get what I heard and saw from my mind. Did anyone really prove Perlay's guilt? They gave evidence of motive. They showed she lied about what she knew—if her witness is telling the truth, which we all believed. But really, Koki could only tell us what she heard. Does that prove that Perlay heard and understood the same thing? Even if she did, the torture for the crime of lying was unthinkably harsh. I could be next—I could easily be next, and I don't care, I tell myself as I sit on the ground in the garden. Galso knows I didn't watch it all as he commanded. Will he torture and kill me? Is that what he meant when he said, "Closed eyes in this room shall soon see their own misfortune."

"Maisewith!" I look up as Koki approaches. "I have a message from Muleen. "She wants to see you in Galso's chamber."

I shake my head and look away. I continue to pull bugs from dark-green salad leaves as if Koki, the traitor, isn't standing there.

"Maisewith!" Alarm strains Koki's voice. "You can't refuse when Muleen calls."

I shrug.

Koki reaches for my hand, and, rather than resist, I follow. What choice do I have? I'm sure I will be punished. How and for what, I have no idea, but I realize I do care, and I hope I die quickly if they torture me as they did Perlay.

Chapter 12

I expect condemnation and anger, but Muleen greets me with a sympathetic smile. "The purging ceremony was hard for you. I'm sorry, but as you can see, it's necessary to keep everyone aware of the consequences of deceit in a confined community. There is no room for suspicion and secrecy. It can only lead to discord. But you are taking it so much harder than most."

I doubt that. I know Huitcrai is just as traumatized as I am. And the younger kids are surely scarred for life. The others are better at hiding what they really feel. How ironic, I think.

"Maybe you don't see death in the worlds you come from?" Muleen say, patting my arm.

I don't answer. I have no words to describe the depth of repugnance I feel toward this place. For Galso and Atheron, for Bilkar, Koki and Bexel, and, yes, for Muleen. And I know if I open my mouth to speak, I'll cry. I don't want Muleen's sympathy, and wish she'd just tell me what I've done wrong and what my punishment will be.

"We want to heal your spirit before you make yourself physically ill. Perhaps some tender care will help you release the pain inside you."

I frown, wondering when I'm going to get the lecture about keeping secrets—a form of lying, according to Galso's rules. What is Muleen leading up to?

"You are a special person, Maisewith. You have contributed much to our society, and we want you to be happy. I've appointed four women to attend to your comfort. One is your friend, Tyla."

They enter, and I recognize Bilkar, Roka, and Dileen, all familiar from the times I've worked in the kitchen. I have nothing to say to them.

Muleen leaves, and Tyla takes my hand and leads me. "Come. I have a special gift for you."

In the middle of a private room stands a narrow table covered with a soft pad. "Please undress, so I can massage your body with this special oil. It's made from the root of the sowree tree, and it has healing power."

I don't want to undress, but Roka and Dileen, one on each side of me are lifting my shirt over my head. Bilkar loosens my calf-high moccasins, which are actually the liners of my snow boots. I'm too depressed to resist. As my shorts slide to my feet, I step out of them and let Tyla guide me to the table.

The oil is warm and smooth, and Tyla's hands are soft but firm. As she massages my shoulders, neck, and arms, I relax. As her hands caress my back and hips, I drift into a peaceful sleep. When I awaken, the room is dark except for one single gleaming crystal.

Bilkar smiles at me. "Come, precious one." She leads me from the table to a deep tub of water just a few steps away. The water is very warm, and there is a natural stone seat in the tub. Sitting, water up to my chin, it feels heavenly. The room smells of the sweet sowree oil and flowers from the bushes that grow wild at the edge of the forest.

This steamy room is nearer the source of the hot spring, so the water is warmer and cleaner than what comes to the last sleeping room that my bed is in.

Dileen and Roka enter and sit nearby. They begin humming, and the harmony of their song is lovely. I realize how much I've missed music since I've been here. They add words to their song, and though I don't try to understand them, they are soothing. I close my eyes and doze. I wake when the singing stops.

Dileen asks, "Would you like to hear more while Bilkar washes you?"

I nod.

Bilkar asks me to get my hair wet, so I hold my breath and slip beneath the surface. It's so pleasant, I stay several seconds. I even contemplate inhaling the water into my lungs. It can't be the worst way to die. Bilkar, who must be alarmed by the length of time I'm submerged, pulls me up by my hair. She washes my hair with the soap they make from roots of a native shrub. When she's done, she rinses my hair by dipping a pan into the water and pouring it over me. Maybe she's afraid I'll drown myself. She asks me to stand so she can rub soap all over my body. When she comes close to my private parts, I take the bar from her, and wash myself.

"You are shy," she says, smiling, as if that is just the cutest thing she's ever seen. "Do not worry. We have washed all your clothes and they are nearly dry."

I know they are amused by my refusal to go naked like everyone else. Well, they have hair!

As I sink back into the water to rinse, Tyla enters with a cup of steaming liquid and a plate of wafers. "Your tea," she says, "It will warm and relax you and give you appetite for the tea cakes."

I begin to refuse, but it smells delicious, and I'm thirsty. I sip it slowly, and like magic, I feel refreshed. When Tyla holds the plate in front of me, I lift my hand from the water and take one of the small cakes. After the first bite, I crave more.

"Do you want out?" Bilkar asks. "We have a blanket to wrap you in. Tyla wants to plait your hair."

I do want out. My fingers look like prunes, and I'm overheated. As I step out, Roka wraps me in a soft blanket and leads me to a chair. Tyla stands behind me with a comb. As my hair is longer than any of the Laeperians' straight golden hair, she says it's a treat for her to play with my curly, dark tresses. She brushes, gently working out the tangles. Finally, she begins braiding and weaving until I have a crown of shiny black braids and curls. I look in the mirror over the washing trough. I look like a queen.

I thank the women as they hand me my clean clothes. I feel better now, as long as I keep my mind from the horrors of Perlay's execution. That isn't easy, for as soon as I'm alone, I'm sure that's all I will be able to think about.

But I'm not left alone.

Bilka says, "Come, now. The celebration awaits."

"What celebration?"

"The finale for Preparation Day," Tyla answers, looking at me as if I'm the densest person ever.

"Preparation for what?"

"For coupling, of course."

"Whose coupling?"

"Why yours, of course. Didn't you know? Why else did you think we were washing and anointing you?"

I stop, stunned. Why didn't Muleen tell me? How could I be coupling with anyone. I am not on the list, let alone at the top.

"Hurry. Everyone awaits."

With Tyla and Roka on each side of me, their arms entwined in mine, and Bilka and Dileen pressing me from behind, I don't have a choice but to go along. Standing directly in front of me, ready to take my arm, is Atheron, a beaming smile stretching across his face, revealing a missing front tooth. I cringe and hold back.

"Go. He won't hurt you. It is customary for him to lead you around the table, filling your plate for you. You must take a bite before anyone else can eat," Bilka says.

She pushes me into his arms, but I draw back and dutifully walk behind him, picking up a plate. He asks what I want.

They have prepared my favorite foods, and my stomach gurgles in anticipation, though I don't see how I can eat with this new knowledge of my fate. I let him fill my plate, though, and it's heaping by the time we've rounded the table and are seated. Others follow us and seat themselves on the ground around us.

"You may begin," Muleen says, as I sit staring at my food.

Atheron nudges my arm. "You first," he says with a smile as he holds a piece of chombra between his fingers.

I take a deep breath, pick up a piece from my own plate, and put it in my mouth. Cheers and laughter erupt from the crowd, and those who've already filled their plates begin eating. How can everyone be so happy, when we've just witnessed two horrible deaths? Where is Atheron's grief from losing Kaltka? How can he stomach food after his gruesome acts of torture and murder? I don't look at him or anyone else as I eat slowly, my thoughts swirling.

When I finish with all I can eat, I rise to take my plate to the kitchen and start the cleanup I've been assigned to.

Muleen intercepts me. "No, my dear. This is your night. You do not work." She escorts me back to the private room where I was massaged and bathed.

I ask her if what Tyla said is true. "Am I supposed to couple with Atheron?"

"Why yes, my dear. You are the chosen one to take Kaltka's place. I didn't tell you, because you seemed too sad to appreciate the good news, but I will tell you now. Galso, Atheron, and I had a conference. Atheron has waited a long time to have his mark rise to the top of the list. As he is getting old, it seems unfair to deprive him of what he has anticipated for so long. We let him to choose another mate. He chose you."

"But he never asked me. I would have said no."

"You are the one Galso and I wanted him to choose. So when he did, we saw it as a good sign. Galso was afraid you'd be reluctant, so he told me to get you ready first."

"Why would you want me? I'm not a Laeperian."

"That is the reason. We want new blood in our descendants. We come from good stock—those on the space ship were chosen from the best—yet we can't go on inbreeding forever without mutations arising. It was beginning to show with the last union. You saw that Boris, our youngest, has a problem with his speech. It's from the hole in the roof of his mouth which you helped repair. You may not have noticed that Mylan's toes are fused together, and the pregnancy before Boris terminated prematurely. The infant died.

"With the arrival of Ithwaic, you, and Huitcrai, we are given not only the help of young workers, but the chance to vary our population."

"Then let Ithwaic and Tyla couple. They want to. I don't."

"That would leave Atheron bereft. Is that fair?"

"Why does anyone have to couple? You now have an even two hundred people. That's what you want. Wait for someone else to die."

"You and Ithwaic and Huitcrai are such strong workers that our crops have increased. We have seen that we can provide for more than two hundred. We may gradually increase that limit."

"I thought I'd have a choice? What if I refuse?"

"You do not want to upset Galso. So far, he likes you. I advise you keep it that way."

Now that's a threat if I ever heard one, and I'm sure Galso does NOT like me.

But I ask, "So, what will happen tomorrow?"

"The day will start with a gathering. When everyone is assembled you and Atheron will meet on the stage, each accompanied by an attendant. Tyla will walk you up there. Galso will stand in front of the assembly and give a speech, ending with a blessing on your union. Then Atheron will give an acceptance speech. Normally you would speak next, but we will not force you to."

I suspect they don't want to risk what I might say.

After a slight pause, as if trying to read my thoughts, Muleen continues. "People in the audience will wish you well and sing the coupling anthem. Then Atheron will carry you to the bed and undress you. We thought of having you come on stage without your clothes, but decided the audience would appreciate watching you being disrobed."

My mouth drops open, but Muleen continues, giving me no time to protest. "Then Atheron will lift you to the bed, gently spread open your legs, mount, and drive his pipe into your orifice. Once he has successfully deposited his seed, the audience will cheer, and then he will carry you to this room. The bed will be returned here, and you will spend the rest of the day with him, both of you excused from chores. This is where you will sleep for the next many sleep times. When you are certified pregnant, there will be another celebration and you have the choice to go back to sleeping where you were or continue to sleep here with Atheron until the birthing."

The expression on Muleen's face and the excitement in her voice clearly indicate that she believes she has just bestowed the greatest honor on me. I'm more important than the Czar of Costra's Imron Province. My coupling is a bigger deal than the marriage of a princess.

I feel like crying.

"Now, I advise you to go to sleep as early as possible. We want you to wake refreshed for the big day ahead. Bless you, precious woman. I honor you." Muleen bows as she backs out of the room.

"Thank you," I say.

I want to puke.

Chapter 13

I awaken with a start on a tear-drenched pillow. I didn't mean to go to sleep. Hoping and praying I'm not too late, I slip out of bed, step into my boot liners, and open the door slowly to be sure it doesn't creak. I leave the private room and creep down a hallway between two rows of sleeping rooms. Pausing at the corner, I look toward the hill where the periscope stands next to the entrance. If I can get past the rest of the sleeping rooms, it isn't but a short climb till I can dig my way out. Death will come quickly. Yes. I've chosen to die. I don't want to live in constant fear of horrible torture for breaking an insane law. I don't want to mate with anyone, least of all the cruel Atheron. How can I even think of bringing a child into such a world? Before I can take another step, though, a door to one of the sleeping rooms ahead of me opens. I jump back into the room.

"Come back to bed!" someone yells. One of the twins is calling to her sister who must be hiding outside their room. "I'll let you have the good blanket."

I wait and watch until the other twin come from behind the stage, marches to the doorway of the room, and grabs the blanket. Finally, she enters, and I hear other voices before the door closes. I don't dare risk getting caught. Clearing a big enough space to crawl through will be time consuming. If anyone's awake, and I'm sure many are now in that room closest to the opening, they'll notice the cold draft, look out, and see me before I can escape. If only there were a way to turn off the blasted lights.

I decide on plan B. Without a sound, I sneak through the back of the auditorium, past more rooms before getting to the bed chamber I share with 18 Laeperians and Huitcrai. I open the door and slip in. Good. Not a single lamp is uncovered lamp. Standing still in the darkness, I listen. I hear soft snores, nothing to indicate anyone is awake. Slowly, guarding against the slightest creak, I open the closet door and retrieve my belongings from the top shelf. Boots, gloves, and goggles, wrapped inside the thickly padded pants, which are rolled inside the parka.

I slip out the door and tiptoe through the kitchen area where I stop and wrap some fruit and fresh vegetables in a calut leaf and put it inside my parka. I see some tea cakes left over from preparation day and take them too. Remembering the recorder/spy-bot from Huitcrai's head, I decide to take it, too. Knowing approximately where Galso put it, I quickly find it and batteries to go with it. If I manage to find another way out, maybe I can make contact with someone from Costra.

That's both a scary and a happy thought, though surely impossible. I know the chute I fell down is too steep and slippery to climb up. Even if I did, I'd be stuck in the crevasse without a satellite signal. I'd freeze to death quickly, but isn't that what I wanted? Better than diving into a boiling gaseous pool. Better than awaiting a prolonged, torturous death, condemned for some unknown crime. I don't want to live where torture is condoned and practiced, where everyone lives in fear of their leader. Where personal belongings, space, and choice are not things.

I hurry through the garden and into the forest, relieved when I'm finally hidden among the trees. It's everlastingly bright in the open garden, but the trees are dense and provide so much shade, that it's semi-dark. Finding the tunnel is harder than I thought it would be. Those who were assigned to block the entrance did a good job. After fighting my way between the rocky earthen wall and the dense foliage, I notice a tiny twinkle of light. I have to move back slowly to catch sight of it again. Assuming it's light from the crystal-lit tunnel, I tug on branches packed in place with dried mud. In a few minutes of frantic digging, I have enough room to toss my bundle ahead of me and wiggle through.

The floor is smooth, the crystal ceiling and walls are bright and colorful. It's a magical place where water sometimes bubbles up and runs down the edge before disappearing in a rift in the floor. I follow it back the way I came. At one familiar pool, I lie on my stomach and drink as much as I can hold, knowing that, farther on, the water will be tainted and unfit to drink.

I don't know how long I've walked, but my legs ache and my body longs for sleep. I step inside one of many branching tunnels I've seen along the way. This one has fewer crystals, and it curves, so I'm well hidden—in case anyone comes looking for me.

I wake stiff and sore, but rested and hungry. I breakfast on sowree fruit and tea cakes. First crawling, then walking back to the pool in the main tunnel, I lie down and drink.

Refreshed, I hurry on, taking long, quick strides. As I walk, I wonder how quickly anyone noticed I was missing. It would likely be Muleen, coming to wake me for the coupling. Will they come after me? There's no way of knowing, so I think about the dream I had while sleeping on the rocky floor.

It's a lovely, recurring dream, but it always leaves me sad to wake up. I'm being cuddled at a woman's breast. Her look of adoration and her bright smile, make me feel so loved, so safe, I believe she must be my mother. I think I'm maybe one or two years old in the dream.

I told Jadith about it once. I said, "I remember my mother."

She yelled at me. "That's impossible. She died when you were born. The woman was probably me."

The dream woman has golden-brown skin and curly black hair, but I asked, "Did you breast feed me?"

"Of course not, but that doesn't mean I didn't hold you when I fed you." I really doubt she ever did.

I sigh. The dream is clearly a product of wishful thinking, or maybe it's a dream version of my nanny, whom I've always adored. I plod on through what must be at least another full day until I'm too weary to go on. I've only stopped long enough to eat and drink whenever I find water.

I crawl into another small tunnel where the light is low and the ground is lumpy and cold. Being so exhausted, I think I'll fall asleep instantly, but aching muscles make it hard to find a comfortable position. Really, though, it's my thoughts that keep me awake.

Have I made a mistake? Is death really better than having sex with Atheron, producing a baby, and continuing to live in the oppressive confines of Laeperia? At least there are friends, food, and shelter.

A baby would be a diversion from the monotony of the place. But I realize it's fear and revulsion, not monotony, that compelled me to leave.

It would only be a matter of time before I'd be accused of lying in some form or other. And the baby, once born, wouldn't be mine. It would become community property with two hundred Laeperians to nurture and teach it—or rather indoctrinate it—to live in fear, follow all the rules, and pretend to be happy.

What a dichotomy! Rule 1. Always be honest and transparent. Rule 2. Always be positive and encouraging. So, if you are not happy, you must choose between breaking one rule or the other. Seems that most choose to pretend, and no one challenges the veracity of their actions.

I wouldn't want to bring a child into a world where gruesome torture is allowed and practiced. Good grief! They should have banned the little ones from watching Perlay's torture. Instead they forced them to sit in the front row. Thinking of it, I cry fresh tears. Remembering the pain of watching it and the helplessness I felt, I want to get as far from Laeperia as possible.

So, I decide, since I can't sleep, I might as well be moving.

I eat when I'm hungry, drink when I can find water, and trudge on. When I begin to smell sulfur, I stop and put on my outerwear, all of it. I put my goggles over my eyes, and snug the hood of my parka tightly around my face so the fur extends over my nose. I stuff what little food is left into my pockets.

I turn back a couple steps, fill my lungs with air, hold my breath, and rush into the poisonous miasma. Thankfully, my goggles are airtight and warm, so they stay clear in the steamy room. The yellow-green pool is lined with lumpy, yellow edges, and the water is bubbling. Lots of dark, worm-like things wiggle in the shallows around the edges. The overflow runs a few meters before dropping out of sight. A rust-colored, rocky floor on the other side of the stream that flows from beneath a slimy, concave wall offers the only path I see. I jump across.

Striding past the stinking pool, I peer down a boulder field that drops off at a 70-degree angle. I have to breathe, or my lungs will explode. I exhale slowly as I climb to a lower level. I take a cautious breath. It smells and burns my throat. I hope I can find fresher air below.

I'm drenched in sweat inside my parka. The puffy, insulated clothing makes maneuvering awkward. Trying to carry them would be more cumbersome, and I don't dare leave them behind. So, I keep going.

The light is dim in this part of the cave and gets darker as I descend. Mostly by feel, I search for footing and handholds. I climb down as quickly as the terrain allows. When I have to breathe, I find that the air has lost most of its sulfur smell. It's dank and musty, but it has the oxygen I need. I keep hoping to see light ahead, but nothing looms but denser darkness.

Why didn't I bring a clump of crystal for a lamp? I chide myself. Probably because I thought I'd be dead by now, I answer. Thinking about it, I'm relieved that I'm not dead. I have no idea what lies ahead—or below—but I'm alive and on my own, and for at least this minute, I'm glad.

But is it a minute, a day, or weeks before I die—fall, starve to death or go stark-raving mad in the darkness? Does this trail go anywhere but to an abrupt ending? Or a poisonous lake? Or a bubbling inferno of hot lava?

Will I ever see light before I die? Right now, that's all I want. I crave light. Enough to see my hand when held in front of my face would be a relief. I hush my mind. What use is guessing? Just go. One step at a time.

I'm not actually plunging. I'm creeping, aware that each step could be my last if I'm not vigilant. Gradually, the path I'm on broadens. As nearly as I can determine in the dark, I'm on a ledge, because, to my right is a precipice that drops to unknowable depths, and to my left a sheer wall, impossible to climb in the dark. I proceed on this path, carefully feeling my way with one hand on the wall and my feet inching forward, step by step, to make sure of solid ground before trusting it to support my weight.

The ledge widens and levels. The wall on my left slopes inward, curving over my head. I continue on cautiously, on a nearly level plane. As I move on, the path sometimes climbs and sometimes descends, so my progress, though slow, is forward. Away from poisonous gases. Away from a static society with confining rules.

I wonder how far and what waits to attack me in the dark...No! Hush, imagination! You'll be conjuring monsters next, and what's the use of that? And immediately a huge, shark-toothed, fire-breathing dragon springs to mind. I shake my head, stifle a sob, and keep going.

The ledge narrows again and steepens sharply downward. I'm tired and hungry. And thirsty. I've walked a long time since I last encountered water. Nor can I hear any. How welcome the sound of a trickling stream or even a drip would be. I finally stop at an area that is almost level and about a meter wide, sit close to the wall that now slants slightly away from me, and pull out the last handful of sowree fruit. The juice of the first one of the grape-sized fruit only serves to remind me of how thirsty I am. I eat another, chewing well and savoring the juice before swallowing. I eat five—and there are no more. Stretching out against the wall as far from the edge as I can get, I use my parka's sleeve for a pillow as I huddle under the rest of it—and fall asleep.

When I awaken and open my eyes to pitch blackness, I'm terrified and disoriented. For a split second I think I've gone blind. Then I remember where I am, and my spirits plummet.

I'd been dreaming of the bright light of Laeperia. I close my eyes and try to sink back into my dream. It was pleasant. I dreamed I had a baby boy, and they let me keep him as long as I agreed to share the private room with Atheron. The boy was beautiful, blue eyed, and golden haired, but not hairy all over like his father. The hair on his head was long and wavy. His skin was silky, glimmering, and ivory colored. Not genetically realistic, I know. My eyes are dark brown and Atheron's are emerald green. My skin is the color of rich coffee, and Atheron's, at least what I ever saw of it on his face and hands, is pale purple like a ripe sowree fruit. But dreams don't have to follow rules. Our son, whom we named Omega, with his ethereal beauty and enigmatic smile, was born with wisdom and grace.

A great sadness fills me. I'm so lonely that I cry for Laeperia and its people, even Atheron, for in my dream he was wise, kind, and gentle. And he had all his teeth.

I rise—carefully. The darkness is more oppressive than anything I've ever experienced. It feels like the weight of the world presses on my shoulder, squeezes my chest. I have little hope that I will ever find light, a way out, or a water source. Since I can't see, I sniff, scouting for some new smell. There is nothing. No moldiness, no sulfur, and no earthy dampness. Nothing but my faint body odor to indicate life. It's the scent of emptiness.

I regret my choice, too late, of course. I know I can neither go back nor stay here. There is no alternative but to keep going—until I can't.

I stand up and get moving. I'm so thirsty, my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth. I would lick the rocks if they were the least bit wet. They're not.

I don't know how long I walk before I hear the faint trickle of water, encouraging me to press on.

The path makes a sharp downturn. As I creep forward, the sound gets louder. Finally, my boots splash. I slip and slide until I brace my foot against a rock and land on my rear end, hands pressed against the wet, rocky ground. I get up and feel along the sloping wall on my left. I find a stream cascading from above, crossing the path, and falling, soundlessly, into the void below. I cup my hand to catch some and taste it. Thankfully, it's potable; at least it tastes okay. I lean in, pressing my lips against the wall where the water falls in a thin stream, and drink my fill. I sit and eat three chombras and the last two tea cakes. Leaning into the waterfall, I drink until I finally quench my thirst. I sigh, lean in, and drink until I can hold no more, for I may never find another source of water.

Heading down the steep incline, I keep hoping to find a place level enough to lie down and sleep. I feel like I've been walking for weeks. But the descent just gets steeper. Finally, when I reach for my next step, I feel nothing. The embankment to my left is now a sheer wall, towering over me, squeezing me to the void on my right. What I've been calling a path has ended.

I lose my footing and fall, landing on my butt on a very narrow and sloping ledge. Bracing myself with my hands on the edge to keep from sliding off, my legs dangling, I press against the sheer wall at my back and catch my breath and wait for my heart to quit pounding. I close my eyes, knowing that opening them again will make no difference. The darkness is the same dense black. Tears run down my cheeks as I think of Ithwaic, Huitcrai, Tyla, and even Muleen in her exuberant joy. She must have been so disappointed to wake and find I was gone. I really wish I was still there, where, briefly, I felt special. Mostly, I wish I could see.

I explore the terrain with my fingers and find a grip along the narrow ledge. It's just wide enough for my fingertips. I roll onto my stomach and reach down with my feet. Good. My left foot finds an outcropping to stand on. After making sure it supports my weight, I reach down with my right foot. It reaches—nothing. Just empty space. I try to kick against the wall, but there is nothing but space below my waist. I'm clinging to an overhang. I pull myself up so that my weight is resting on my left foot, and cautiously let go with my right hand to feel for another handhold. I find a protruding rock, pull myself a little higher, and reach again with my right foot for something to step on. Still, there is nothing within reach.

I try moving left and find another handhold. When I pull my left leg up in search of something to stand on, I'm dangling. My fingers ache from gripping tiny nodules of rough rock. Just when I think I can hold on no longer, I find an outcropping with my left foot. I relax my fingers—just as the rock beneath my foot crumbles.

I fall, flailing for something to grab onto.

Like in a "falling" dream, I feel instantaneous terror. But this is no dream, and I don't jerk awake to find myself safe in bed.

I slam, hard, my knees buckling beneath me. Pain in my leg and a single bolt of nerve-induced light shoots to my head. The ground spins. I claw the rocky earth to keep from falling off the edge of the swaying and swiftly tilting world.

Mercifully, my pain and terror fade as consciousness deserts me.

Chapter 14

What is shaking me? Whatever it is, it hurts. Must be an earthquake, jostling me from side to side, as I awaken to intense pain in my lower leg. I reach out with both hands to steady myself against the dizzy sensation that rocks me. Instinctively, I open my eyes and immediately wish I wouldn't do that. It's still depressingly dark, of course. I squeeze them shut—and see a sudden flash of light through my eyelids. Then it's gone. Or is it? I squint one eye open. Flickering lights reveals dark gray walls and eerie shadows. Bracing myself with both hands, I try to stop the ground from moving.

My leg doesn't hurt anymore, and my hands are all pins and needles as I try to steady myself. The surface I'm lying on doesn't feel like rocky earth, but some kind canvas-like material. Maybe that's just result of losing feeling in my hands. I seem to be bobbing and weaving, but I don't know if I really am or if I'm just so dizzy it feels like it.

I hear footsteps and grunts and—voices? I try to raise my head and find I can't. I'm losing feeling in all parts of my body, which no longer responds to my commands. I feel like a helpless blob. I can blink my eyes, but everything from my feet to my lips are numb.

Is this what death feels like? With that thought, everything fades away.

When I awaken again, there's light—steady, this time, instead of bobbing. Squinting, I see I'm in some kind of chamber about three meters square. It's crowded. I'm surrounded by hideous, upright, bipedal creatures as I lie, suspended, at their waist level. I'm on a gurney of some kind, and I think they are holding it, or at least the one by my feet seems to be. The others are staring at me, conversing, it seems, in low voices. When I hear a deep voice behind me, I try to move my head to see who—or what—is speaking. Big mistake. The room spins, and I close my eyes. Where in the world am I? Or the better question, what world am I on? Or, is this the hell Jadith warned me I was bound for?

As a wave of nausea passes, I stare at the creature near my feet as that's the only one I can see without moving my eyes, ad moving my eyes makes me dizzy. Its head is covered in some kind of protective helmet that has a headlamp attached. I wish it would turn off. I lower my eyelids to a slit to block out the beam and focus on the creature's face. It's bare, orange, and scaly, with large, wide-set, violet eyes with no lashes, a broad, lipless mouth revealing shark-like teeth when it talks. It has no nose. At least it's not spewing fire. Its body is covered in some thick, gray material.

Numb from head to toe, I wonder if I'm dying and this is my final dream, a nightmare of giant proportions, even for my imagination.

The creature grunts and widens its mouth in what is either a smile or a snarl when our eyes meet. Others start talking faster, at least, that's the closest I can come to describing the babbling sounds they emit.

I hadn't realized we were moving until the upward motion comes to an abrupt stop, and an oval door slides open. I'm blinded by white light. So maybe I've gone to heaven after all? Probably not. The light hurts my eyes even when they're closed. I'm bobbing and weaving again as the gurney I'm on is moving quickly. The creature at my feet has turned and is leading.

I hear a door swish open. Opening one eye to a tiny slit, I see gleaming white-washed walls and several more orange-faced creatures swarming around me, muttering in voices that raise and lower in excitement. They don't look like angels, so I guess I'm not in heaven.

They seem to be asking me questions—which I couldn't answer even if I understood them; my tongue is thick and my brain, sluggish. But I decide I'm not dead.

As my eyes slowly become accustomed to the light, I squint at those in front of me, having learned that moving my head has unpleasant consequences. I have a question of my own—no, two questions—I'd ask if I could.

1. Am I on your menu?

2. Why can't I move my body?

"I don't understand you," I finally mutter, though the words come out all mushed up around my half-dead tongue. If only I could have a drink.

They stare at me. I repeat the words in Laeperian. More confused expressions. In English, I say, "Water, please," and manage to touch my tongue to my lips.

They understand the gesture and quickly bring a container with a glass straw. I close my lips around it, grateful to be getting some feeling back. The water is clear and cold, and just a tiny bit sweet. I smile and say "thank you," this time in Laeperian.

With gestures and more grunts from them, I realize they're asking where I came from and how I got there. It's impossible to answer them.

One, a female, I believe, judging by the two cone-shaped protrusions on her chest, raises one of three fingers at the end of her narrow hand, in an I've-got-it gesture. She disappears from my narrow view. I look at the hands of the ones I can see. They all have three long, bony fingers and a thumb, reminding me of chickens' feet.

The female is back, and I wonder, what are these creatures? Some kind of cross between lizard and mammal with maybe a bit of bird thrown in? They obviously took a different evolutionary track than us Earthlings.

The female shows me a thin rectangular piece of dark, glassy material. She strokes it once and it lights up. A tablet! Again, I wonder where I am. I thought I was still inside the Rock where the most advanced technology is Ithwaic's periscope, which is nothing but moving mechanical parts with mirrors. The female turns the lighted screen toward me, and I see a map of galaxies. With her fingers, she closes in on the middle of the Milky Way, moves the view a little to the left, and points to a two-star system not far (in light years) from the planet earth. I remember it from my space science classes as the system that includes Costra.

As she narrows the focus, I can see Costra and several other planets in this binary system. Three of these planets, or so I was taught in school, are capable of supporting life. Costra orbits Cori, the larger of the two stars while X-1 and X-2 orbit Xiri, the smaller sun.

The female points to a moon of one of the planets. It takes a second, but I recognize it from my studies as X-1.M-2, meaning the second moon of planet X-1. If I'm right, it must be Laeperia. My guess is, I'm still on, or rather inside of the frozen moon of the planet the Laeperians call Falstar, known on Costra as X-1.

As the female zooms in on a view of the moon, she points to a long, mountain range extending from the moon's horizon and tapering to a brown plain. There are other features, some craters and shallow valleys, where water may once have flowed. The land looks parched, with only swirls of snow or clouds. Either ice or water in the deep concaves. It's unlike the snow-covered expanse where I found myself that day that seems so long ago. That makes me think this moon has a light and dark side or rather a cold and not-as-cold side, kind of like that of Earth's moon, meaning the same side always faces X-1 in what my science teacher called, "captured rotation."

The female zooms in closer to an apparently man-made structure next to the steep end of the mountain until I can see it's dug into the side of the hill, something like the entrance to a mineshaft. She taps the structure and nods, pointing to me, then to herself, and back to the building.

She holds out the tablet letting me know she wants me to show her where I came from. With the numbness wearing off, I can move my hands and arms, though they still tingle. I tap the tablet at the moon's horizon and make a circular gesture, trying to tell them that I think I came from the same mountain, but the other end. I rise up on my elbow to get a better view of the tablet, but a sharp pain in my leg shoots through me. I reach for it and wince.

The female sets the tablet aside and summons another one who stands nearby. She says something to me and points at my leg. If she's asking if that's where it hurts, the answer is yes, so I nod. She brings a large pair of scissors, made of shiny, white metal and begins cutting my outer pants. I cringe to see them ruined, but don't try to stop her. The pants drop open, revealing the blood-soaked lining and my splintered tibia! It pokes through torn, bloody skin by several centimeters.

With a smile, she says something that sounds like it's supposed to be reassuring, then nods to a male standing nearby. I think he's the one who carried the foot end of my litter, though it's hard to tell. They all look alike. He pulls a long-barreled handgun from his pocket and aims at my leg. I try to protest, but before I can utter a sound, a ray of bright light flashes, and my leg instantly goes numb. Gradually, the leaden feeling moves upward through my body until I can't move at all. I close my eyes.

I have no idea how much time has passed when I come to in a room with an intense overhead light. I'm on a solid bed, covered with a warm blanket. Several of the orange creatures stand around, looking at me. A metal table of instruments stands nearby.

A female, seeing my open eyes, speaks to me and reaches for something on the table. She holds up two parts of a bone. My fractured tibia! My leg! But before I can express alarm, she puts them back and holds up a rod made of silvery, white metal. She puts it back and pulls a picture from the wall. An x-ray, showing my leg with a newly-constructed leg bone of the exact shape and size as the missing tibia. Actually, what I'm looking at is much more than an old-fashioned x-ray. When rotated, it shows all the muscles, tendons, blood vessels, and bones in living color. Everything is properly attached, holding the new bone in place from my knee to my ankle. I feel no pain. Just sleepiness.

With a big, terrifying grin, she says something that rings with victory and places a gentle hand on my forehead. She moves her cool hand downward to close my eyes. I leave them that way, comfortable, but tired.

When I awaken again, another female is standing by. She scoots my feet off the bed and, with her other hand, she lifts my shoulders. A male joins her, and together, one holding each hand, they pull me off the bed, and I'm standing. I feel no pain. No numbness. I don't limp, but walk with the easy grace I've always had. My leg responds as it always did. I'm simply as good as new. Maybe better. I'm dressed in a soft, warm, one-piece pajama.

They show me to a table where a bowl of steaming stew and a plate of bread are set. One of them motions for me to sit, so I do. I pick up the spoon and look at them for approval. They nod and bare frightening rows of teeth, in what I hope are smiles. I begin to eat. The first bite is delicious and reminds me that I'm ravenously hungry. I don't worry about being poisoned. If they plan to kill me, I might as well enjoy my last meal. I'll eat, and then I'll explore this strange place and find a way to communicate with these kind, intelligent beings.

Chapter 15

A giant lizard blocks my way out of a dark cave, keeping me from the bright sunshine that lights the distant exit. I crave the light so much that I make a dash for it, but the long talon-like fingers of the lizard grab me by my face and dig into my eyes.

I sit up, blinking wildly.

And I can't see. The darkness is as dense as it was in the cave before I fell, and for a moment, I don't know where I am. Was my nightmare a premonition?

I hear a low rumble and feel a slight vibration. Am I dizzy again? The thundering sound fades, and the bed stills. Yes, I'm on a bed. So everything I remember about my rescue by the orange people must be real. Right? Yet, there is absolutely no light. I rub my eyes. I blink, first slowly then rapidly. Still, I cannot see the faintest outline in my black surroundings. I've gone blind!

I clearly remember being helped by lizard-looking creatures. They fixed my leg. They fed me a delicious meal of stew and bread. After I ate, a scaly, orange, big-eyed biped led me to a small room and this soft bed. It grunted something, bared its frightful teeth in what I hope was a smile, and turned to the door. Grateful and exhausted, I pulled the cover up to my chin and closed my eyes.

Trembling, I rise from the bed and shuffle the short distance across the room, hands outstretched, to where I believe the door is. When I reach the wall, I feel for a door frame. At first, I feel nothing but smooth wall in both directions from where I'm sure I entered. Going more slowly, I discern a small straight, vertical crack in the wall that extends from higher than my reach to the floor. I search for a doorknob or a button or indentation, but there isn't one. I can't find a light switch either. I sink to the floor, my heart pounding. I can't live in a world that's always dark. I know some people, the blind, do, but I don't think I have the courage. I remember thinking that if I ever got out of the cave, I'd avoid dark places for the rest of my life.

Buck up, Maisey, you don't have a choice. I remember something one of my teachers told me a long time ago. "If the future is unknown, and it always is, live in this minute only. Do what you can now, and you'll be ready for the future when it gets here."

Slowly, I rise from the floor, and with my hand brushing the wall, feel my way around the room.

The walls are straight with no irregularities. In three steps I come to a corner. I turn left, dragging my hand along the wall. I encounter no impediments in the six strides to the next corner. I turn, following the wall three more steps to the bed. I feel my way around it and back to the wall, which turns inward, away from me into a closet-sized recess. It's shallow and narrow and has what my exploring hands tell me is a commode. There is a basin next to it. When I brush the wall above it, water pours over my wrists and into the sink. I feel for a faucet, but find only a thin slit in the wall from which water gushes when my hand is directly below it.

Okay. I have water. I cup my hands and drink. Yes. One thing to be thankful for.

Just past the basin, I meet a wall and follow it out of the nook, turn and take one more step to the corner, six strides to the next, and soon I'm back to the narrow line that—I think—marks the door.

I pound on the wall where the door should be again, and again, harder each time as I shout, "Help me! Let me out!" With my ear to the wall, I listen for a response, but all is as quiet as the room is dark.

I thought the orange people cared about me. They were nothing but kind. Do they know that locking me in darkness is the worst punishment they can inflict on me? But it didn't seem like they wanted to punish me. I don't know if I'm blind or imprisoned in a room with no light.

I walk across the room until I run into the bed. Crawling into it, I bury my face in the pillow, and close my eyes. The darkness isn't as depressing that way.

The aliens—well, I guess I'm the alien here—the orange people seemed so kind and generous, even showing me the map to orient me, and smiling, though, with their fangs, it looked pretty scary. Then they closed me in and turned off the light.

And now? I'm a prisoner, apparently abandoned, and I don't know why. I review all I know about my captors. Obviously, they're technologically advanced far beyond the earthlings on Costra. They have running water on demand in a mountain cave on a hostile moon, for heaven's sake!

And my leg! How did they do that? What is this miracle material they used to mold my new bone? And the gun that numbed my body and put me to sleep? What is that? Their looks are terrifying, but they allayed my fears with kindness. They fixed me, clothed me, and fed me.

Those teeth! What if they plan to eat me? They're clearly carnivores, and the meat in the stew was tasty, but not a familiar flavor. Maybe they've developed a taste for human flesh. I've heard that people sent to planet X-1 never returned. Is the darkness really blindness? And is it part of their plan? I want to live. I want to see. And I don't know if I ever will. And I cry.

I remember a time when I was six years old. It may have been my first night on Costra. I awoke from a nightmare in an unfamiliar room almost as dark as this. I screamed. Jadith came in and turned on the light and pulled me into her lap while I told her my dream—which I don't remember now. I begged her to stay with me and to leave the light on.

She said she wouldn't do both but I could choose whether I wanted the light or her presence. I chose her. She turned off the light and lay beside me on the bed, holding my hand.

"Maisey," she said, "The dark is not to be feared. It holds nothing that isn't there in the light. Just because you can't see, doesn't change anything. All darkness does is let your other senses work better. Remember that."

For a second, I really miss Jadith. But then I realize, I'm homesick for those rare times when she seemed to love me. And now I don't believe she ever really did. But there is wisdom in the words I remember.

I have other senses. Lying perfectly still, I listen. There's a low drone, the hum of a machine, I guess. Nothing else. I breathe deeply through my nose. The air is clean. Maybe artificially purified, for it smells sterile, like having the ionizer on all day for Jadith's allergies. Even the pillow and blanket smell as odorless as pure water. I sniff my armpits. Nothing, though I know I sweat profusely on my trek from Laeperia. They must have washed me when I was anesthetized. Makes sense if they're going to eat me. They wouldn't want me to stink.

Exhausted from crying, I sink into a dream where there is light. Jadith and Jedd, at the breakfast table, praise me for the report from my teachers. The dream fades and I wonder if that ever happened.

I don't know how long I slept, but my nearly bursting bladder awakens me. I feel my way to the toilet. When I'm finished and stand, the toilet flushes with a whispering sound. Back on the bed, I listen, waiting. Every once in a while, just as I'm dozing off, I hear a distant boom, and feel a faint tremor. I believe I'm still inside the mountain, and there is open space below me, accessible by elevator. Are they setting off explosives?

Bright light suddenly floods the room. Even with my eyes closed, it's too much, and I fling my arm over my eyes. A voice mutters what might be an apology, and the light dims. I squint at an orange female standing in an open doorway. I'm so relieved that I'm not blind, that I start crying again.

"Moracht," she says, beckoning with one talon-like finger. I rise and go to her—and the light. As soon as I clear the doorway, two big males, one on each side of me, clasp my arms and march me down a dim corridor.

They seat me at the same table where I ate before, and remain standing, one on each side and a half step back of my chair, as if I'm some kind of threat that must be guarded. At least I'm in the light. I can see.

The female places another bowl of stew and a plate of bread in front of me, and sits across from me. She isn't eating. Just making sure I do? So I'll be fat enough to eat?

I think of refusing, wondering if they'd still butcher me if I starved myself. I decide it doesn't matter. They'll do whatever they're going to do, and I'm hungry. I pick up the spoon, hoping that if there is poison in the food, I'll die quickly.

When I'm finished, I don't feel sick, but I'm nervous under female's solemn stare. When someone takes my dishes away, she plops the spy disc that I brought with me from Laeperia onto the table.

Oh! She thinks I'm a spy. That may explain everything.

I look at her, trying to figure out how to explain that I meant no harm in bringing the recording device. She asks a question, that I can't understand. She holds them up in front of my face. Her stare is accusing and angry.

"Oh. Those," I blurt, shaking my head, and holding my hands up, palms out. "They were planted in my friends head by people of Costra. I shouldn't have...I mean, I wasn't spying."

She shakes her head, sighs, and pockets the device.

With some instructions to my guards, she leaves the room. I remain seated, sure that if I tried to stand, I'd be pushed back into the chair. A different female comes with a tablet like the one I saw yesterday. She smiles and pulls a chair close. Stroking the glassy surface, she reveals simple pictures with some sort of hieroglyphics that must be the word for the item pictured. She pronounces it slowly and repeatedly, and then points to me and nods. I repeat the word, making a mental note of the markings beneath it. For pictures of a mature female, male, child, and infant of their species, the words are Mayla, Molla, Cheech, and Loree. I'm not sure if mayla and molla mean mother and father or just man and woman. She shows me a liquid in a clear glass and says, "tottar." I repeat it, assuming it's the word for water.

I'm happy to be learning, using my brain for something besides worrying. The lesson continues for a few hours until I let my teacher know I need a break to relieve my bladder. The guards walk me back to the room where I slept. They wait. When I'm finished, they walk me back to the table, where food awaits.

After I eat, the lesson continues. I quickly absorb their language, both the oral and written words. After another potty break, the guards escort me back to the table and some kind of sandwich or wrap. I haven't worked up an appetite, but I don't know how to politely refuse—or how they'd take it if I did, so I eat. I'm surprised by the sweetness of it and a flavor I can't identify, but find pleasing.

When I finish, the guards lead me to a large room filled with exercise equipment, and have me jog around the perimeter. It feels good to use my legs. And to finally have them let go of my arms.

I still should be recovering from yesterday's surgery. How is my leg working so well and painlessly? How are the muscles and tendons already so firmly attached to the artificial bone that they don't need time to heal? My leg responds as well or better than it ever has.

After five laps around the arena, the guards take me back to my cell where my language teacher meets me with a small, clear disk. "You might like a light," she says. She strokes it to turn it on and off. I thank her in her language. A smile lights her eyes as well as exposing teeth that I'm gradually getting used to. She backs out the door, it slides shut, and the light goes out. I'll be their prisoner until I can convince them I'm not a spy. I'm grateful that they're teaching me the language to give me that chance. I want these high-tech beings as friends, not enemies.

Chapter 16

Sleep does not come easily, as my mind whirls with thoughts like Why did I bring the recorder in the first place? It was a dumb thing to do, but I'd thought that if I found a way out of the mountain, I would speak into the little spying device and tell anyone listening that I had information and they should come get me. Obviously, I didn't think it through. The chances that a Costran space ship would be close enough to receive a transmission was probably about one in a bazillion.

Of course, I didn't expect to run into living, highly intelligent, and technologically advanced beings. So, instead of my ticket home, the recorder has made me a prisoner with no idea of how long they'll treat me like this. I think they'll give me a chance to defend myself once I learn the language. Will they believe me? I'll have to convince them I'm just an unwilling tool. As I review what I might say, and the native words to say it in, I finally drift into sleep.

I'm standing in a sea of white, all alone, dressed in many layers of heavy winter clothing. I begin removing it. With each item I shed, the weather changes. The sun shines more brightly, the sky turns an ever brighter blue until I'm naked, with only a gold chain around my neck on which a tear-drop shaped glass pendant hangs between my small, firm breasts. The snow is gone, and the grass beneath my feet is warm, soft, and green. The fully-leafed trees in the distance beckon me. I bound effortlessly, my feet barely touching the ground in a long flying dance.

I don't reach the trees, though, because a boom and shaking bed wake me to the black room.

I sigh and reach for the disk beneath my pillow. Before I find it, light floods the room, and I cover my eyes. When the light dims, I squint at the door. My teacher beckons me. When I ask politely in her language, she lets me use the toilet first.

I follow her down the hallway, escorted by the same two guards. At least they look the same. It's hard to tell. At another door, the molla (I've learned it just means a female of her species.) takes my hand, and the guards step back. We enter a small chamber with a floor drain. My teacher tells me to disrobe and stand over the drain. Immediately water pours down on me, cold, at first, taking my breath away. It soon warms up, and my teacher surprises me by pouring soap in my hair. I gulp as she starts scrubbing. I've not had such personal attention since the ladies in Laeperia prepared me for the coupling. As the suds runs down my body, she soaps my arms, chest and back. I take over as she approaches my pubic area. She smiles and lets me as she squats to clean my legs and feet. Once I'm thoroughly rinsed, she leads me out, and the water shuts off. She hands me a towel and uses another to dry my hair. Is this some kind of ritual kindness, or do they think I don't know how to clean myself, based on the odor I came with?

Dressed in a clean one-piece jumper that's too long in the torso and sleeves, we go out, and the guards usher me to the same table. I eat the same kind of stew and bread and, as soon as my dishes are cleared away, resume the language lesson.

With the help of the pictures, I learn quickly. In the middle of a lesson, I find the words to ask, "How long will I be a prisoner?"

My instructor leaves me with one word, that I know means, "Stay!"

As the minutes pass, I attempt conversation with the two guards.

"Hello, My name is Maisewith. What is yours?" I say, facing the guard on my right.

He gives his head one quick shake and looks away.

I turn to the other one and start to speak. He says one harsh word that can only mean "Shut up."

I shrug and turn back to stare at the empty table.

Finally, the female who was so nice to me before she found the recorder, sits across from me. "I will ask the questions. Answer me if you can."

I nod.

"Where did you come from?"

"The other end of this mountain," I say, "Inside it."

"Before that," she snaps.

"Costra," I say. "Or at least that's what we call it."

She places the tablet in front of me, and I quickly find Costra and point. "Botek," she says.

"I guess that makes me Botekian," I say, pointing to myself. "What are you?"

"Boteki," she corrects, then hesitates, frowning. I guess she decides it won't hurt for me to know. She points to planet X-1. "Prologi," she says. Pointing to herself, she says, "Prolog."

"Prolog," I repeat, thinking of prologues that come before the first chapter in some of the stories I've read. It's fitting, I think, as they are surely first in technology if not in existence. I can't help smiling.

She smiles back.

"Before you can be released to roam freely, you will have to be..." She says a word I haven't learned.

I repeat it as a question, as I shake my head.

She pulls up a picture on the tablet of a tall, tube-shaped chamber that appears to be about a meter in diameter and three or four meters tall. She plays a video that shows a fully-dressed Prolog female walking into the cylinder and the door closing. "Molla in," my instructor says." A moving light around the interior of the chamber descends slowly from top to bottom. At the same time, on a split screen, the entire bone structure of the molla is shown. It looks almost exactly like a human skeleton. As the light ascends, it displays internal organs and musculature. When the light turns off, the molla walks out.

"No pain," I'm told, as the long first finger that reminds me of a bony, scaly talon, swipes across the screen to reveal a picture of skin, showing that every part of the Prolog has been scanned. I noticed on the scan of the organs that hollow tubes leading to the lungs originate at a small slit, something like a gill, on either side of the

face near the ear and above the mandible. Never do the tubes intersect with the oral cavity or the trachea. A much better design, I think. No choking on food or saliva. One could drink and breathe at the same time. I wonder about their evolution—wonder if the orange, scaly skin is in response to a harsh, maybe hot, dry climate and yet the gill-like slits for breathing make me think of fish.

"May I do it now?" I ask, pointing to the image of the scanning machine on the tablet.

"No," she says. "We don't have a scanner here. You must wait for transport."

"When?" I ask.

"About one Prologi year."

My mouth drops open, and before I can speak, she adds. "It equals three fourths of a Boteki year.

"I am a prisoner until then? I ..."

She interrupts to say, "Not prisoner, a guest. A closely watched guest," she adds with a smile. I appreciate her sense of humor, but, if I'm a guest, I'd like to be a trusted one.

I try to convince her I'm not a danger or threat and that I couldn't harm them if I tried. I sputter, searching for words, but she merely stands and leaves.

My teacher returns to resume the lesson. Before she begins, I interrupt. "Name?" I point to her. "Maisewith," I say pointing to myself. "A molla from Botek. A Boteki molla called Maisewith. What are you called?"

She smiles and answers, "Teranik, a molla from Prologi. A Prolog called Teranik."

"And her? The molla who just spoke with me?"

"Zeraf."

I point to the guards, but Teranik gives her head a quick, vigorous shake. Either they have no names, or I'm not supposed to address them.

Time passes slowly, with no change in the schedule or in what I'm allowed to see. And I thought Laeperia was boring! But, I'm not only becoming fluent in the Prologi language very quickly, but whether they mean for me to or not, I'm learning a lot about Prologs and their society.

This moon, which the Prologs call Probius-2, is one of three moons orbiting Prologi. It's the only one of the three that has the necessary ingredients for life—water and oxygen, though its hostile environment is not conducive to life outside a shelter.

They are dubious, at first, and then intrigued with my account of life inside the rock on the other side of the moon's equator. They ask many questions, some of which I can't understand or don't have the words to answer.

To speed up my learning, Zeraf gives me a tablet to take to my room. It allows access to one program—a dictionary.

I'm grateful for something to do, and my vocabulary increases quickly with lots of cross-referencing of words. I'll have the whole thing read and memorized long before time for transport. I've always had a love and fascination for languages, and have been told my aptitude for linguistics is my greatest gift.

After many tries, I access another program and learn about the mining that causes all the rumbling and shaking that goes on around the clock. It's why there is a lot of open space beneath me. It was one of their mine shafts that I fell into. I was lucky to be found by workers returning to their sleeping quarters at the end of their shift.

The program is a log of the quantity of minerals mined daily. The list includes four items, and I look them all up. The main one is inidiclost, a rare, precious, and versatile metal, one that is coveted throughout the known universe, and found only on this moon. It's apparently the most guarded and protected secret and may explain why I'm in so much trouble for coming here with a spying device.

When escorted to my room, after another tedious day of reviewing vocabulary that I feel I've mastered, Teranik tells me, "No more language lessons. You know it all. Zeraf says you know too much, so tomorrow you begin useful employment."

So, they know I broke into the program. Not very smart when I'm trying to gain their trust. But I was both bored and curious. And now? I'll continue to be not only a prisoner, but also a slave? I wonder what useful employment means and suspect, from Teranik's tone, that it may not be to my liking. Maybe I shouldn't have been so snoopy.

Chapter 17

Bright light pierces my eyelids long before I've had enough sleep. Teranik awakens me.

"Report immediately for your morning meal. From now on, except for time to sleep and eat, you will work."

I hurry to the toilet. My guards turn their backs and wait to grab my arms as I come to the door. They take me to the table. I'm surprised to see Zeraf waiting. She smiles—or is that a snarl?—and tells me to sit.

"I notice you've shown great interest in our industry." Her voice is cold.

Ach. So much for gaining her trust!

"To give you better understanding of what you seem to be looking for, I will allow you to take part in it."

I translate "allow" as "force" as I'm sure there's no choice involved.

She stands and waves to a Prolog standing at the door. "Nolek will take you to your work station. Do as she tells you."

The young female stares at me in either astonishment or fear. Apparently, she's never seen an alien like me before. She's no taller than I am. Most adult Prologs are at least a head taller. Her complexion is lighter and smoother than the other Prologs I've met. Much lighter than that of the guards who still stand near. I guess their job is to see that I don't bolt or pull a weapon from thin air or whatever daring feat they're afraid I'm capable of executing.

Nolek says, "Come with me, Maisewith, but first, put this on." She hands me a suit like the one she's wearing, a one-piece, gray, padded, coverall. I put it on over my pajamas, the only piece of clothing they've given me to replace the clothes I came in, which I haven't seen since my surgery. The sleeves are too long, so I roll them up to form cuffs around my wrist.

In the clutches of my ever-present guards, I follow Nolek out the door and down a hallway to an elevator. Nolek says a word, and the door opens, and, as soon as the four of us enter, it closes and drops fast, leaving my stomach in my throat. When I follow Nolek out, I find the air cold, musty, and dark.

I shiver, not so much from the cold air as from the memory of my long trek through the pitch-black darkness. My heart races, and I find it hard to breathe. I stop, seized by a wave of homesickness for the warmth and light of the crystals in Laeperia.

Nolek taps my shoulder. "Maisewith, Are you well?"

"Sorry," I say, as I struggle back to the present, telling myself I'm safe now, but "self" is hard to convince.

Nolek leads us through a long, narrow tunnel, that slants slightly downward. Too narrow to walk two abreast, one guard walks in front of me and the other behind. We stop at an intersection where two other tunnels join at a dusty chamber where a bin of supplies hangs on one wall. From here, I can see, a huge hollowed-out room full of dust and activity. The noise coming from machinery that pulverizes rock and spews it onto a long conveyor is deafening. I cover my ears. Nolek looks at me questioningly, pulls my hand away, and looks.

"You can't close them?" Nolek sounds astonished. She turns so that I can see into her large ears. A flap opens and closes over her ear canal.

"Nice, I say. I wish I could do that."

Shrugging, Nolek hands me three items out of the bin and says, "Put these on."

One is a headlamp—very bright as Nolek swipes it to turn it on for me. Next is a pair of goggles, too big to properly seal around my eyes. Wish I had the ones I came with. The other, a band a few centimeters wide, has a loop at each end. Nolek demonstrates, pulling it across her face and hooking the ends around her ears. A filter at the end of each side covers the gill-like slits of nares in front of and slightly below her ears.

The part of the strap that crosses her flat face is narrow except where a filter covers her mouth. I look at mine and shake my head. The filters against my jaws would be useless. The filter in the strap across my face does not cover my nose without leaving airspace all around it. My nose keeps it from sealing over my mouth.

Nolek stares at my face and says, "You breathe through that thing, don't you?" touching the tip of my nose. "This isn't going to work."

Duh! I hand it back.

Nolek shrugs. "Just try not to breathe." The dust in this chamber is already irritating my throat. She turns to go into the big, much dustier room.

I protest. "Wait. Am I going to die doing this? I don't think so. I'll go back to being a prisoner before I choke to death."

I back away, turn, and run to get out of the billowing dust. I don't hear anyone behind me, but Nolek's right in my face when a guard grabs my arm and jerks me to a stop.

"You can't go back up there. We would both be in trouble." A look of concern crosses Nolek's face. "I'll move a table here and bring you rocks to sort. Okay?" She nods at my guards. One of them stays, holding my arm while the other helps Nolek carry a table to where I stand.

"You can work here," Nolek says, handing me a hammer and chisel. "Bahrn will fashion a filter for you so you can work beside me tomorrow."

Someone, Bahrn, I guess, empties a pail full of stones on the table. Then lifting my chin, he looks closely at my mouth, nose, and turning my head from side to side, my ears. Wide-eyed, he shakes his head. He pulls a tool from his pocket and scans my face with it. I guess he's taking measurements. "Very strange," he mutters as he walks away.

"I'll show you what to do. Look for the inidiclost in every stone. You can see it in this one." Nolek hold up a gray rock with shiny black and white stripes. "This is the inidiclost. It's the strongest metal in the known universe, and as far as we know, it's found only here in Probius-2. Don't worry about hurting the inidiclost. You can't."

I take the hammer and chisel while Nolek watches. On the first blow, a shiny, black, glass-like rock breaks off. I hold it up and say, "Obsidian."

"Takodica. That piece is too small to be of value. If you find a shard as long as your finger, set it aside. It's useful, but common. It can't be molded like inidiclost can."

If inidiclost is so impervious, how can it be molded, I wonder, but out loud I ask about the other two metals, brilikat and duntalak that I read about.

"How do you know about them?" she asks, and before I can answer, she says. "Not important."

She picks through the ore in my bucket, pulls out a rock the size of my fist and points to a strip of gold, Yes. A good chunk of real, shiny gold! "Brilikat," she says. "Do not save. We have overstock. Same with duntalak." She holds up another rock that's mostly green. I believe it's copper ore.

As I pound on the rocks, my pile of sparkling white metal grows. All the pieces are small, none larger than my fist, so I don't see how they'll ever make anything useful. The pulverized stone with a lot of gold and copper, goes back into the pail beside my feet. I wish I could take it back to Costra. I'd be so rich. Occasionally, an obsidian chip breaks free. When I find one as long as my middle finger, I set it aside. The next one I find has a razor-sharp edge. It's almost as long as my thumb.

I search my coveralls for a pocket, but unlike Nolek's coveralls, mine don't have any. I slip the obsidian into the cuff of my sleeve without either guard noticing. I'm not sure why I did that, except that it's a small act of independence, something I've sadly missed lately.

Chapter 18

A cough that tears at my throat wakes me up from a nightmare in which I'm breathing particles of fine glass. The pain doesn't stop when I awaken. I find the way to the toilet without turning on my lamp, relieve myself, and stumble back to bed. I grab the edges as a wave of dizziness spins the room. I feel like I'm falling. I squeeze my eyes shut until the vertigo finally subsides.

Bright light floods the room and the door opens. Nolek scolds, "Still abed? It's time to work. Your breakfast is ready, and Bahrn has a filter to fit over that lump in the middle of your face."

It's called a nose, I say in my mind. Out loud, I croak, "I'm sick. I can't..." I don't attempt to finish. It's too painful.

"What is wrong with your voice? It grinds like a crusher."

"It's..." I begin, but a coughing fit stops me. "I hurt," I finally whisper as I hold my chest.

"Get up and follow me," Nolek says. "You can tell Zeraf while you eat."

"I can't eat," is all I get out before coughing again.

Nolek disappears, the door closes, and the light goes off. I begin to shiver violently as I huddle under the thin blanket I've pulled up to my chin. I drift into a horrific nightmare until the light comes on again, and then dims to a level that permits me to open my eyes.

Zeraf enters and commands, "Come with me."

I groan, sit up on the edge of the bed, and wait for the room to stop whirling again. My head throbs.

Zeraf takes my arm and pulls me to my feet. I make it to the door, where guards wait, before everything goes dim, wavy and, finally, black.

I wake up on a table in the room where my leg was repaired.

"Maisewith, I'm Golak, a physician. Your lungs are infected with dust from the inidiclost ore. The rocks we crush for the valuable minerals contain a toxic substance we guard against. It's vitally important to keep it from entering our respiratory system. You should not have been exposed without proper masks and filters."

I stare at the male Prolog who leans over me. Is he telling me I'm going to die?

"Your throat is severely inflamed," he continues, "so I don't see how you will eat. This would not happen if your air passages were better protected as ours are. Strange how yours come from the center of your face in such close proximity to your oral cavity. I don't see how you could eat and breathe at the same time."

I don't try to speak.

"Bad design." He sighs, and his eyes look sad. "I inserted a tube through your mouth to your stomach, so we can give you nutritious liquid without danger of it entering your airway."

So that is what has been irritating me since I woke up. I thought I had a hair in my mouth, and I'd been working my tongue trying to get rid of. It must be a very thin tube. I quit fighting it.

"Your body temperature is greatly elevated from what it was when you came here. On Prologi we have an herb that might heal your infection, but we don't have any here. You must wait for the next transport."

I attempt to ask a question, but I can barely whisper.

He shakes his head and touches my shoulder in a show of sympathy. "You may die of the infection, but if your lungs heal, I would advise reconstruction surgery of your airways, connecting them to artificial nares we can place here." He strokes the back of my jawline in front of my ear. "That will be better in so many ways than having air exchange with pathways to your lungs housed so close to your oral cavity and passages to your digestive tract." He sighs again, looking sad.

I get it! You don't like my design; do you have to go on and on about it? Of course, I say nothing. I don't want to open my mouth and add to the pain.

Shaking his head again, rather hopelessly, I think, he says, "That would have to be done on the home planet. We don't have the resources here." He turns and leaves, shoulders slumped.

A tear slides down my cheek as I'm carried to my room and locked in the dark. Left to die. This was not how I envisioned ending my life, but there are worse ways, I suppose—like the torture Perlay suffered.

I sleep, in and out of the delirium of fever dreams.

Someone comes with a syringe to insert a liquid into the tube that hangs from my mouth and is attached to my one-piece pajamas. They place a soft cold-pack on my forehead. I have no way to mark the passing of time. I don't know how often they come. Sometimes it seems like hardly any time has passed between feedings; sometimes it seems like an eternity, and I think they've forgotten me.

I awaken, drenched in sweat, and cautiously get out of bed. My throat is no longer sore, and my head doesn't ache. The pain in my chest is mostly gone. What remains are sore muscles from all the coughing I've done since the beginning of this illness, which, I've decided, was a bad case of pneumonia.

I'm walking toward the toilet when the floor shakes, knocking me off my feet. A loud boom breaks the silence, followed by a continuing rumble and the shrill sound of a siren. I hear people running, shouting.

I feel my way to the door and pound on it. "What's going on? Let me out."

My voice is weak and strained. No one comes. Finally, the noise fades, the floor is still. I crawl back to the bed and search for my light disk. I can't feel it under the pillow, but I prick my finger on something sharp. Yanking it back, I put it in my mouth and taste blood. Avoiding further grappling under my pillow, I search the bed and the floor beneath it for my light, but finally give up as my strength wanes and I'm forced to lie down. I'm trembling.

I breathe tentatively. Too big a breath makes me cough again. Calm yourself, Maisey! I try to imagine that could have led to the explosion and apparent chaos. An earthquake? A cave-in caused by blasting more rock? People could be buried under a mass of inidiclost or their way out blocked, the elevator disabled.

As I helplessly wait, lying on my slightly tilted bed, my mind races. The noise was so great, I can imagine the rooms on this level collapsing. I'm inside a mountain, after all. My thoughts swirl as I fight panic. If anyone is left, why don't they come after me? Where are my guards when I need them? Actually, I'm probably the least important person on the planet. I mean moon. If there are survivors out there, and I haven't heard a sound for a long time, they could easily forget me and leave me here forever. Maybe they're all dead. If so, my survival is totally up to me. I may have to rescue myself.

Right Maisey? Just how do you propose to do that?

Utter exhaustion mutes my anxiety and fear, and I sleep.

When I awaken, I don't know how long I've slept, but I know I'm still alone in the dark. If anyone survived, I doubt they will come for me. Either they can't, or they don't care, expecting me to die anyway.

I get on my hands and knees and crawl over every square meter of the room, systematically, from one end to the other. I belly crawl under the bed, and finally, sweeping my hand against the wall, a light flash brightly and goes out again. I move my hand slowly until I touch the disk. It lights up and stays on, so. I wiggle backward out from under the bed with it.

What a relief to be able to see. I pan the light around the room. It is basically unchanged. I'm still locked in a small, almost empty cell, with little hope of rescue. If only I can find a way to open the door.

I cross to where I remember it opening and search the wall for the thin line that marks the edge of it. If I can find it, and if I can find something thin enough to run up and down that line, maybe I'll find a latch, or a button to trigger the latch.

Shining my light disk on the wall and moving slowly, I find the edge of the door. It's so tiny a slit, my fingernail will hardly go in. I notice it's slightly wider at the top, now, and tighter at the bottom, a shift caused by the explosion, no doubt.

I still have the thin tube hanging out of the corner of my mouth. But it isn't stiff. I feel along it to where it attaches to the shoulder of my pajamas and find the stiff, metal end where they inserted the fluid that fed me. It's long enough, and I think it will fit in the crack. All I need to do is cut it from the tube and from my clothes. Easier said than done, I soon find out. There are no connections I can find. The metal tube seems to be fused into the tubing. Thin as it is, it doesn't break no matter how hard I try to bend it.

Tired, I lie down again. This illness has really sapped my strength. As I rest, staring at the ceiling, my mind wanders. When I left Laeperia, the geode at the other end of this mountain range, I was choosing death. I planned to die by freezing or the alternative, sulfur poisoning. Would I have chosen to leave if I'd known that I would end up dying of starvation in solitary confinement with nothing to do and nothing to see? I shouldn't cry, but I'm crying anyway. One thing I know for sure is that I don't want to die. But if I have to, I wish I could go to sleep now and never wake up. But from what I've heard about dying of starvation, I'm sure it won't be that easy.

Chapter 19

As I doze, the light disc slips from my hand and falls behind the bed, plunging me into darkness again. Too tired to go after it, I lie still, eyes closed and wallow in regrets. I ask myself, would sex and pregnancy have been so bad? It would have been a change from the monotony. Wouldn't I love having a baby, even if it was half golden-furred ape. Gosh what a mood I'm in, harboring these repetitive and useless thoughts. I correct myself. Laeperians are not apes. They're as human as I am. And regrets won't change my fate.

Thinking about it, I admit I didn't leave to get out of coupling with a hairy old man. Not just that, at least. It was more because getting pregnant would seal my fate to live in that place forever, or as long as they allowed me to live. I left to escape the cruelty of their judgment, the harshness of their rules. Perlay wasn't punished for murder, and no one listened to her or gave any credence to her claim that it was an accident. To Galso and his followers, it didn't matter whether she meant to kill Kaltka or not. When Koki repeated a conversation not meant for her ears that seemed to prove Perlay lied, that was all they needed to inflict the most terrible torture and death imaginable.

I fled the injustice. I fled the pervasive fear that compels people to speak out against their friends. When I was called to talk to Muleen, I was terrified that I was going to be next for some infraction of their all-important, # 1 rule. And it would've come. Though it hadn't then, it would eventually, because I would never betray anyone. I could be accused of withholding information or of making up a lie, however insignificant, and I'd meet the same fate that Perlay suffered. When I left, I thought I was choosing a better way to die. I'm not sure this is it.

I hate Galso. I hate Koki and every one of the mindless Laeperians who voted for Perlay's execution. I hate their whole system of phony smiles and goodwill, when such evil tyranny lurks beneath the surface.

With the image of Perlay's suffering vivid in my mind, I'm not sorry I left. I just hope Ithwaic and Huitcrai never fall victim to the rule.

All this crying has made me thirsty. I stumble to the basin and wave my hand over it. No water streams from the wall. There is no water in the toilet either. Great. I get to die of thirst. At least it will come more quickly than starvation. But, oh the torment!

Don't cry! And I try to stop myself from sobbing, thinking I can't waste body fluids on tears. But I just cry harder.

I awaken, dizzy and disoriented. My throat is parched, and my mouth so dry my tongue sticks to my palate. I can't believe I need to pee. I must have slept hours. Maybe days. I stagger to the toilet. I hate to pee, as it's precious liquid leaving my body, but my bladder insists on relief. Yet once I finally get my one-piece pajama down—not easy, with the feeding tube that's in my mouth attached—it seems like a false alarm. Not much pee and what there is really stinks. Another sign of my dehydration. I really want to get out of here and find some water.

As I sit, eyes closed, I try to think of options. I need to try the door again. With my pajamas draped around my knees, I feel for the tube attachment and discover there is no pin or fastener of any kind. The metal end, as long as my finger, is somehow welded to my clothes. The only way to get it off is to cut a hole in the cloth. I need a knife.

The obsidian shard! Whatever happened to it? Could that be what was under my pillow? I know I didn't put it there.

Pulling my pajamas up to my waist, I feel my way back to the bed and run my hand under the pillow. I jerk my hand out and suck on my finger. I taste blood. Great, another way to lose fluid! I'm surprised it's even possible to bleed, pee, or cry. On my knees, I grope under the bed until my hand brushes the light. I pick it up, move the pillow, and shine the light on the obsidian. I pick it up carefully.

How did it get there? Whoever undressed me must've found it in my sleeve. What a laugh they must have had. Look, at this. Isn't our little alien a hoot. She thought she'd steal a piece of takodica for a weapon. Let's put it under her pillow and see what she does when she finds it.

I shake away the embarrassment and wonder. How was this sharp rock supposed to help me? The edge is razor-sharp, and I try it in the slit of the door. It won't go in far enough to do any good before it's too thick to fit. So, I use it to cut the tubing at the junction between the flexible part and the metal end. It works, but before I can clamp down on the loose tubing, I feel it slide down my throat. I swallow, and it's gone.

Oh, well. It's the metal end I want. I take off my pajamas, so I can probe the thin crevice that defines the door. I feel a chill when I'm naked. I'm sure this room is colder than it was. I'll have to hurry so I can put my pajamas back on.

The metal tube is thin enough to fit in the slit between the door and the wall. I slide it down the crack until it catches, too tight to go farther, then up as the opening widens toward the top. I feel no latch, and nothing happens. On the other side, the line marking the edge of the door is barely discernible. The tube won't fit.

"Tokika atch." (stand back)

Did I really a voice from the other side? It's so faint, I think I may have imagined it. I put my ear to the door. "Help!" I shout as loudly as I can, but it's pathetic. I try again. "Can anyone hear me? Help!"

"Tokika ridikt" (Stand away!) the voice says a little louder. I back away from the door and step toward the bed. An explosion slams me against the bed frame and I fall to the floor. A moment later, Zeraf leans over me, shining a light in my eyes, feeling for a pulse, and asking me something. I can see her mouth move, but I hear nothing but a loud ringing in my ears.

She lifts me, throws my blanket over me, and carries me over her shoulder through the cavernous opening where the door used to be. I'm surprised by her strength and the speed of our travel. The hall is dark and dusty. I recognize the room where I eat, but it's dark and out of sight in a moment. I feel icy air. Doors to outside are wide open.

We pause no more than a second before entering an airlock. As a door closes behind us another door opens. Zeraf deposits me in a reclining chair and calls for water. A canister with a drinking tube is stuck in front of my face. I suck in cool, pure water.

Zeraf pulls the canister away and says, "Not so fast." Frowning, she asks, "Where is your feeding tube?"

I try to tell her, but my parched throat doesn't work. I reach for the water, and she gives it, allowing me about four swallows at a time.

She nods as I tell her of my desperate attempts to get out. "Not possible," she says. "All the controls are outside the room. They were disabled in the blast."

"What happened?" I ask.

"Explosives set off to loosen more ore caused a cave-in. Part of the ceiling fell, filling the access, possibly burying some of the workers, and trapping any who survived."

"Are we leaving them?"

"Two of our team are making one last search for survivors who are not trapped, and then we'll go. All power to lights and heat were cut off. That's why I had to blast the door to get you out."

I continue to drink until I drain the canister and ask for more.

"Wait and let that settle. Then some food."

The door opens and three Prologs appear, one a limp form in the arms of another.

"This is all. We found her beneath a fallen cabinet in the surgical room."

"There is no one else, except those behind the cave-in," the other rescuer says.

Zeraf orders them to lay the unconscious one on the table, and she begins to examine her. I stand to look. Teranik! And she looks dead.

"What will become of those trapped," I ask.

"If there are survivors, they will be rescued."

Whoa! We're moving. No sitting in special seats with harnesses. Not even a seatbelt or a warning to prepare. We just zoom off with no more sensation than a stomach tickle like you get in an elevator. I can't tell how fast we're traveling but suspect it's faster than I've ever moved before. I probably should sit down, as I'm still weak from the infection, but instead, I step closer to the table where Teranik lies.

Leaning with one hand on the edge of the table, I ask, "Is she alive?"

"Yes, but we'll let her sleep until we get home," Zeraf says.

"And how long is that?"

She answers, "Two tachts." A tacht, she explains, is a Prologi day, not quite as long as a Costran day. I start back to the chair, feeling weak and dizzy. Zeraf takes my arm. "Come, I'll show you your chamber."

She takes me to a hexagonal room, lined with several glass enclosed cubicles, each containing a chair that she transforms into a bed at the touch of a button. Another button opens a small compartment in the wall, which contains my belongings. My outerwear and my goggles. How did they have time to gather those?

"You will stay here until I come for you. Your food will be brought to you and your toilet is here." Zeraf touches another button and a cylindrical stool rises from the floor. "Keep it closed when not in use."

She places my water canister on the table. It bounces a few times but finally settles, indicating a weak artificial gravity. She leaves, and the door snicks closed, locking me in. I wonder what happened to my guards. I kind of miss them.

Chapter 20

Prologi is beautiful, at least this section of it. It's not the barren, dusty wasteland—or the water world—I imagined. We've landed in the most beautiful city I've ever seen. The architecture is amazing, every building ornately different, but all in a matching theme and color scheme. The streets are wide with artfully placed trees, flowering shrubs, and fountains. Only pedestrian traffic occupies the street. I look up to see large and small vehicles travel through the air above the street, those moving toward us at one level, and those going the opposite direction at a higher level.

I watch as a long vehicle darts sideways into an offset space and drops to street level. A door in the vehicles side opens and about twenty Prologs disembark. Families with children as well as single men, women, and older children in uniform clothing. Students, I'm guessing. I watch one female, carrying an infant in a brightly colored sling across her chest, cross the street and enter a building. The uniformed students proceed down the street and enter another. I look for foreigners, humans who look like me, but I can only see Prologs.

"This way," Teranik says. She seems to be fully healed. How did that happen so fast?

I'm not placed in restraints, because Teranik convinced Zeraf that I would cooperate. So I do, not seeing any other choice. She leads me into a tall building made mostly of what appears to be burnished copper. The front doors and windows above them are of glass that swirls in artistic designs. Inside, the broad foyer is lined with workstations with signs on the front of each desk to indicate various departments: transportation, power, commerce, streets, housing, etc.

There is one I can't translate: Wongatrobix. It's followed by a word that means park or garden. They have a department dedicated to a single garden?

Teranik leads me to a bank of elevators. As we ascend, I ask what Wongatrobix means.

She just has time to say, "You'll see," before the door opens to an area I've seen before. It's the room with scanners that Zeraf showed me on her tablet. As we approach a scanner, I refrain from asking, "Will it hurt me?" knowing the answer doesn't matter. I'm concerned with long-term damage to my brain. Will I be the same person when I come out? Wanting to speed up my acceptance and gain Zeraf's trust so that I won't have to be guarded, I step in. I am in the center of a thin circle of light that ripples in multicolor as it rises from the floor with a slight pinging sound. Musical, actually. It stops above my head and slowly spins as it slides to the floor. I don't notice any change in the way I feel.

As I step out, Teranik takes me by the hand and we walk back to the elevators. This time we ascend all the way to the top floor, and when we step out, I'm in a room with several stations that look exactly like the one where my leg was repaired in the underground surgery center in Probius-2.

Prologs in white work over prone prologs, and at least two Costrans—well, I guess they're from Costra—humans, anyway. Teranik leads me to a surgical station with a waiting medical team. One of the medics, whom I guess is the chief doctor for this station, is looking at a screen that shows my scan. I stare, fascinated by the image of my bones, muscles and organs, separated on a split screen. The doctor hones in on the image of my brain, enlarges it, and takes some measurements. I strain to see what he's looking at. Magnified several times, it comes into view. A circular circuit board, embedded in the septum deep in my brain. What the heck? I expected my scan to be completely clean of bugs.

A white-garbed Prolog takes my hand and leads me to the table.

"Wait!" I shout. "Tell me what you're going to do."

Suddenly, I'm lifted to the table, a mask placed over my face, and the next thing I know, I'm waking up on the table looking at a disk about a centimeter in diameter lying on a tray at the end of a pair of forceps. I reach for it, and a hand grabs mine. "I just want to see it closely," I say. "It came out of my head, didn't it?"

I'm lifted off the table, set on my feet, and Teranik grabs my hand. I expect dizziness and pain. None comes.

Outside, she hands me my bundle, everything I own wrapped in my parka. It smells clean and fresh. I thank her, amazed they're allowing me to keep it, let alone laundering it and saving it for me.

We cross the street to a transportation station. As we wait, I assess my body and my brain. I recite the alphabet in Russian backward. It's still there. My body seems normal, and my memory seems to work fine, as I think back to Laeperia, Costra, and even my early childhood on Earth. It doesn't seem as if they took anything vital from my brain or damaged any motor skills.

The vehicle that comes for us is silver in color and shaped like a bullet. I board with Teranik. Though it has four seats, no one else is in it. Teranik touches a key pad, and we shoot up, slip sideways into the higher traffic lane, and zoom off.

I ask Teranik where we're going. She smiles, rather sadly, it seems to me, and says, "I think you'll like it."

We have left the buildings of the city behind and are zipping over brown and green patches of land so fast they are a blur.

Where we stop and descend looks like a verdant oasis of green fields, streams, and trees. But there is a sign floating in midair. It says Wongatrobix.

"Your new home," Teranik says as we exit the car. "Maisewith, you'll be comfortable and make new friends with other Beranodes." Prologs feel superior to humans like me who have the misfortune of having noses in the middle of our faces. It's a derogatory term, that translates to knob-face, though I know Teranik doesn't mean it as a put-down so much as a defining characteristic of the likes of me.

She walks beside me on a dirt trail that leads across manicured grass. In a few meters, she stops.

"This is as far as I can go, Maisewith. Be happy."

"What is this place?" I ask as I see a shimmer that looks like heat waves in the air directly in front of me. I hear a click, and the glimmer disappears.

"It's Wongatrobix, your home. You must go on, now. I have to go back."

"But," I say, backing up.

A flash of worry shades her expression, and she pulls a weapon of some kind from a sheath I hadn't noticed. I don't know what it does, but decide not to find out. The look on Teranik's face tells me she doesn't want to use it, but I see that she will if I resist.

"Okay," I say. "I don't suppose I'll see you any time soon—or ever—so I'll say goodbye and go."

She smiles gratefully with tears filling her eyes.

I turn and follow the road until I hear a faint click behind me. I drop my bundle, spin, and charge back up the roadway to where she stands, shaking her head. I'm slammed violently backward.

Chapter 21

I push myself up from the ground and lurch toward the invisible barrier, my hand extended at arm's length testing the air. I can't see it, but in about three meters from where I landed, my hand is thrown up in the air as if slapped by a spinning blade, thrusting me backward. "Way to go Maise" I chide myself. "You just proved what you already knew. It's an impenetrable force field, and you are still a prisoner."

At least I can see through the wall, and as I watch, the silver bullet and Teranik disappear over the horizon. I look longingly at the vast expanse of fields and trees beyond the wall before turning to explore what I can get to. My enclosure. I hope it isn't tiny. I head up the path.

Just beyond a small rise, the path branches. I see scattered dome-shaped huts, all identical. Many have gardens with vegetables and flowers. I see a half dozen people in the distance. They look human. From Costra? Probably. They couldn't have come directly from Earth. When I went with Jedd and Jadith to live on Costra, I overheard them say the transport from Earth to Costra would end with the flight that took them to the new world. Those left behind would have to scrounge for themselves, but were not expected to live long. I had secretly cried when I learned that my two best friends were among those left to die on earth.

Carrying the bundle with my few belongings wrapped in my parka, I continue down the trail. Before I get to the two nearest people, I see a teenage girl and boy, standing at an intersection of footpaths. One of them sees me and points as she jabbers excitedly. The other looks up and waves.

As I near them, the boy, who has dark hair and eyes and creamy-white skin, greets me.

"Welcome to the Womb," he says in clear English.

"Thank you. What is this place?" I ask.

"The aliens have an unpronounceable name for it, but we either call it The Womb or Fort Bliss. For a prison, it's not too bad."

"Um, I think we're the aliens here."

"They look like aliens," he says, not getting my point.

"So why are you in prison? Did you commit a crime?"

"The crime of being human and coming here. Seems the lizard-heads don't need any other reason than that."

"How did you get here?"

"Hey, it's about to rain," the girl says. "I'm not going to stand here chatting and get soaked. Coming, Felix?"

"If you let this new girl come too. We can't leave her out in the rain."

I look up to see clouds rising quickly over the trees on the horizon. Evidently the invisible barrier doesn't cover the top of this place. The girl and Felix are running toward a hut. I follow. They duck into a small, windowless dome and sit on the floor. I squeeze in next to Felix. Drops of rain spatter on the path outside the opening, pounding the roof with small staccato beats that soon rise to a crescendo of drumming that makes conversation impossible. The door is an open arch, with no covering, so we just sit and watch the rain come down, muddying the path.

It stops in about ten minutes.

"Wow," I say. "Does that happen often?"

"Once or twice a day," the girl says in a disinterested monotone.

The boy, Felix, asks my name and introduces his girlfriend, Jasmine. They are both from Costra, born there to colonizers from Earth. All they know about Earth is what they learn in school, and some things their parents have told them. Felix's mother teaches history in school, mostly about Earth, the exploration for habitable planets, and the relatively recent colonization of Costra. His dad is a doctor. Jasmine's parents are scientists and good friends and partners of the Reems. They are surprised to learn that I once lived with the Reems. "But I thought they just had two kids, that boy that died, and Aidlidah."

"What boy who died? Ithwaic?"

"No, Bradlain." Felix says. "Who's Ithwaic?"

"Oh, just an older brother. I keep finding new siblings I never knew about."

"Weird," Felix says.

"Not really," Jasmine argues. "Mr. and Mrs. Reems are famous for taking in orphans. Aidi is one of them."

"Aidi?"

"Oh, that's what we call Aidlidah for short."

"So how did you end up here?" I ask them as we huddle together in Jasmine's little igloo shaped hut. It's not tall enough to stand up in.

Felix tells me that Jasmine and Aidi were best friends, and so when the Reems and the Johnsons and Jasmine's parents decided to send Jasmine, Aidi, and Aidi's nanny to X-1, Jasmine begged Felix to come too. Her parents and the Reems encouraged it, and his parents finally gave in. As soon as they landed, they were taken into custody, and put through a scanning device. Both Aidi and Jasmine were taken in for some kind of surgery. "Then we were all brought here," Felix concludes.

The path has dried up already from the quick downpour, and we crawl out of the hut. Felix tells me I'll need to build my own hut. "Anywhere you want that's vacant," he says. "There's a nice plot next to mine. Follow me, and I'll show you where the building blocks are and how to put them together."

"I expect she can figure that out by herself, Felix," Jasmine sneers. "We did."

"So?" Felix asks. "It doesn't hurt to be nice."

Jasmine makes a face and turns back to her hut. "Fine. I've got to check on my garden."

The building blocks are near the only large building as far as I can see. Felix confirms that it's the only structure in "Fort Bliss" besides the huts. "We call it the Central Supply Depot, or the Center for short. It's where everyone comes to prepare their food, take showers, wash their clothes, and post notes for friends and for the lizard-head prison wardens."

"Wardens?" I ask. "Where are they?"

"Oh, they don't live here. They come every once in a while to stock supplies. We just stay out of their way."

The blocks are lightweight and lock together like giant Lego toys. There is only one design, thus just one size and shape possible as the pieces curve to form a dome. With Felix's help, I finish quickly.

I sigh. "How hard are these to move? I'd rather sleep in the trees, if they're within the barrier. Are they?"

I've been eying a large grove of trees in the distance. There are none near the center or anywhere else that I can see from my hut.

"Yes. But you don't want to go there. That area is taken, and you wouldn't be welcome." Felix laughs and adds, "Unless they're hungry."

I don't laugh, but choose to ignore the remark. I'll find out for myself. "How many people live here?" I ask. "Are they all like us?"

"I don't know. Never counted, and we're never all in one place at once so it's hard to know." He looked at the trees in the distance. "Most are human, but I know there are at least three or four Yetis, probably more. They keep to themselves."

"Yetis?"

"That's what I call 'em. The name comes from a legend from Earth. It was a monster that looked human-like except covered in fur."

"Felix, are you about done?" Jasmine yells as she walks toward my hut.

"Thank you for your help, Felix," I say. "I'll catch you later. I want to do some exploring. I'd like to know just how big this area is and meet some more of the inmates."

I see Jasmine cringe at the word, inmates. Felix says, "Okay. Just hurry back to your hut if you see clouds forming." He touches my arm, looks intently into my eyes, and adds, "Don't go near the woods."

Jasmine now has a firm grip on Felix's arm. I smile at her and ask, "I'm going to go see if I can find my sister, Aidlidah. Would you like to come along and introduce us?"

Jasmine squints her eyes as her nose wrinkles and her mouth purses tightly. She looks as if she's just smelled the worst odor ever.

"Just head down the main road to the third path to your right. Follow it and you'll come to their hut."

"Oh, okay. I just thought since she's your best friend, you'd enjoy seeing her surprise to learn she has a sister here."

"Was." Jasmine says. "Was my best friend. Past tense! She's really weird ever since we got here. I can't begin to relate to her now."

I shrug and follow her directions. I pass a few huts before coming to the third path on my right. It leads me around a curve to a hut with the prettiest garden I've seen yet. A young girl is sitting in the middle of it making a chain of flowers of many colors and shapes.

"Hello," I say. She looks up and bursts into a smile that lights her face.

"Ho, ho, ho," she chortles. "I have flowers."

"Nice," I say. "Very pretty." But there is something strange about this girl. She stands and I see that her pudgy figure sports a full bosom, indicating that she is older than she seems, though a half meter shorter than me.

"I'm Aidi. What's your name?" she asks.

"Maisewith. You may call me Maisey, if you like."

"I like you, Maisey," she says. "Will you go with me to the depot? I need to pee, and Nanny's still sleeping."

"Okay," I say as she takes my hand. As we walk, I ask, "It's pretty quiet around here. Is everyone sleeping?"

"People sleep in purple time. Red time is brighter."

It's the first I've noticed the world has a subdued lavender hue.

"Does it ever get dark here?" I ask.

"No. Not much. Too many suns."

Aidi is leading me across a dim trail toward the Center. It's closer than going back to the main trail, I see. Aidi goes directly to a large bathroom that has no doors, but is lined with toilets on one side and showers on the other. No partitions between any of them. I make a mental note to take my showers in "purple time," as it seems the place is pretty deserted. Judging by the number of huts I've seen, I expect that won't be the case when people start waking up.

Before going back to her hut, Aidi gives me a tour of the depot, as she calls it. There are four departments. Next to the bathroom is a laundry room with high-tech machines that wash and dry clothing. It has shelves stacked with towels, blankets, sleeping mats, and one-piece jumpsuits like the one I'm wearing, but in various sizes.

Next to that is a large kitchen with stoves, sinks, cooking utensils, dishes, and well-stocked food cupboards and refrigerators. The last room is filled with gardening tools, seeds, small hand-carts, and some other supplies I can't immediately identify. Aidi tugs at my hand, saying. "Let's go. Nanny will be looking for me."

She's right. The light has changed when we leave the center. Streaks of orange and yellow brighten the horizon. As we approach Aidi's hut, I see a woman with a complexion darker than mine, but with gray streaks in her tightly braided black hair. She's striding toward us. "Aidi, I've been looking for you." She stops and stares. "Who...? Maisey?" Her voice rises in a shriek of delight. Suddenly, I'm engulfed in loving arms.

"Nana," I cry, tears filling my eyes. I push away to get a better look at her. "Nana, what are you doing here?"

"Oh, my Maisey. They told me you died. Am I seeing a ghost?" My beautiful, loving nanny, her voice tremulous, and eyes full of tears, pulls me into another hug, and says. "Maisey, it's really you, isn't it?"

I assure her it is and that I can hardly believe she's here. Nana leads us back to her hut and offers me a chair at the edge of her garden. She takes the other, and plies me with questions. Aidi has gone back to sit on the ground in the middle of the flowers.

I tell her everything that happened since I woke up on Laeperia. When there is finally a break in her cascade of questions, it's my turn to learn about her.

When Jadith Reems came to her with the news of my death, she brought her Aidlidah, saying they'd adopted another one and wanted Nana to look after her. "Getting Aidi at that time was both a blessing and a curse. I had no time to grieve for you, yet in my heart, that's all I could do. Aidi was sweet and lovable as well as very intelligent. There was hardly anything she didn't know, and often went out with the Reems to give lectures. They called her their little diplomat and had her travel a lot.

"I was glad to have her company, but it wasn't as easy to relate to her as it had been with you. And I don't think that has anything to do with our skin color. I'd love you if you were orange or purple. It's your heart I fell in love with."

Nana sighs as Aidi interrupts us holding up a porous rock and shouting, "Nanny, look!

Nana looks, oohing and aahing over it before patting Aidi on the head as if she were a two-year-old, and telling her to go see if she can find more. I try to imagine her giving lectures and can't.

"Aidi doesn't seem...well, like an adept orator," I say, trying not to insult her.

"Aidi was born with trisomy 21, otherwise known as Down Syndrome. Her parents were among the early colonizers, both in the military, and didn't really know what to do with her. They raised her the best they could, but were happy to hand her over to Jedd and Jadith, who said they thought they could help her. And they did. Although they admitted her surgery was experimental, it turned out to be miraculous. After the operation on her brain, she became fully functioning, and her IQ rose by eighty-some points. She was still a sweet, loving, teenage girl at night time when she came home to me, but she was exhausted from her travels and appointments and didn't want to do much of anything but sleep.

"I thought of quitting and going to work for someone else, because Aidi was home so rarely," Nana says. "But before I could turn in my resignation, Jadith came to me with news that I was scheduled to take Aidi to X-1 on a diplomatic mission. They sent us here with instructions to fit in, go to school, get jobs, and learn all we could about the government and resources."

"But the Prologs didn't see it that way," I comment.

"Prologs?" Nana asks.

"The natives call this planet Prologi and the inhabitants, Prologs. It seems they have no intention of sharing their home planet with aliens."

"No. Apparently not," Nana agrees. "As soon as we arrived, ready to deliver a message about our skills and what a benefit we'd be to their culture—with the aid of flyers and signs that Jadith gave us, and Aidi doing the talking—we were taken to a huge building, believing we were going to talk to officials, but instead we were put in some kind of scanner.

When I came out, one of them said in broken English, which took me a while to understand, that I could choose between joining their workforce or going with Aidi, who was immediately taken to surgery. I chose to stay with her." Nana shakes her head and tears come to her eyes. "It's a good thing, as I don't think she could very well take care of herself. After whatever the natives here did to her brain, she was a completely different person. Still sweet and loving, but very childish. No longer smart or even self-sufficient. Functionally, it set her back at least ten or twelve years." Nana shrugs. "So here we are. With no place to go and no hope of rescue. I guess it's not bad for a prison."

Aidi interrupts to announce that she's sleepy.

"Okay. You go on in and lie down," Nana says.

"But I want a story." Aidi looks shocked.

"Of course. I'll be in soon to tell you a story." Nana looks at me apologetically, and adds, "Aidi gets up so early, she often needs a nap."

"Go ahead, Nana. I want to explore this place. I'll come back later—often. You can count on it."

Nana grasps my arm and says, "Be careful. Don't go into the woods at the far end. There are monsters there from some other world. We avoid them. I don't know what they'd do if you invaded their space."

Chapter 22

The many branches off the main path end at huts with gardens—and huts without gardens. I see people stirring, some working in their gardens, some are on their way to the center. I speak a cheery "Good day," and a few mumble it back to me, some eye me suspiciously, but most rush on, eyes averted. Maybe they don't think it's a good day or maybe it's night to them.

I continue down the main path until I near the forest. I see no huts among the trees and decide to keep walking. There's a beautiful stream and stepping stones that invite me to cross, so I veer right. After snaking my way through willows, I come to grassland, stretching as far as I can see. I keep walking, but in only twelve paces I'm slapped by an invisible force that sends me flying backward.

"Ouch. I should have seen that coming," I yelp, and laugh at myself for not even being cautious as I 'test' the perimeter. Picking myself up and checking for injuries, I decide I'm basically unhurt. I go back across the creek into the forest. A movement high up in a tree catches my eye. A bird? No, I see fur. A wild animal maybe. Or the Yeti Felix warned me about?

The furry form quickly descends and lands on the ground in front of me. I'm speechless for a moment as I stare into the emerald eyes of a Laeperian—dressed in the Prologi-provided coveralls!

"Hello," I finally say. "You surprised me."

"Who are you, and how do you know Jalspeak. No one else on this planet, except my shipmates, can speak to us."

"My name is Maisewith, and I learned your language in the Rock on the moon, Laeperia."

"That's not possible. No one can live on Laeperia! It's too cold for any species we know of, definitely too cold for natives of the planet Jalspar, which is what we are."

"Then how do you propose I learned the Laeperian language?" I ask, irritated at being called a liar.

"You're not speaking Laeperian, though you do have an accent. You're speaking the language of my people from the planet Jalspar, and I don't know how you learned it."

"But obviously I did, and I'm the one who should know, so believe what you want, and don't ask me questions, if you don't like my answers."

I turn to walk away, but another Laeperian—er Jalsparian as I guess I should call them—drops from a tree and lands in front of me. He says, "Please forgive Bornak. He's rather opinionated. I'm Orson, and I would love to hear you explain your astounding news."

Orson's brilliant smile, his twinkling eyes, and kind words diffuse my anger quickly. I relent with no coaxing at all. "I'm telling the truth. I learned your language on Laeperia, one of the moons of this planet that the Laeperians called Falstar. The natives here call it Prologi, and I learned it as X-1 on the planet I came from."

Orson gives me a quizzical look, but I wave away his questions. "Never mind. We know what moon I'm talking about. People just like you live there. Not on the surface of course. That would be impossible, but underground, inside the mountain. They call themselves Laeperians because they have never seen Jalspar. You probably know there's a high mountain range that extends, north to south, across the equator. At the end farthest from this planet, there is a cave, an opening into a huge crystal-lined cavity. The crystals not only emit light, but heat. There are trees and bushes and fertile soil for growing edible plants. It seems to have an unlimited source of water, fed by underground springs, some hot, some cold."

Two female Jalsparians join Orson and Bornak.

I acknowledge them with a nod and continue, "I was told that about a thousand years ago, people from your planet crashed on the moon. Luckily, they were near the cave and those who survived the crash and the fire that burned up the spacecraft made it inside where their population has grown to two hundred people. They keep it at that number, because there isn't room to support more."

Bornak interrupts. "Yes! We learned about that failed space mission in school. I don't remember for sure, but I think the mission was aiming for Falstar, this planet, but it crashed on the moon. We were told no one could have lived through the fire, and if they did they'd soon die from the cold. Because Jalspar's resources are limited, it took us this long to attempt another mission to Falstar."

"So you believe me now?" I ask.

"Hard to believe, but it must be true if you've been there and learned our language. But how did you know about the cave? How did you get there? And how did you get out without freezing? How did you get here?"

"Give her a chance, Bornak, and she'll tell us." Turning to me, Orson says, "You will, won't you. I really want to know all about you."

I smile at Orson and continue, "What I've told you is from the oral history passed down from the nine survivors of the space craft. They don't have any electronics or any way of recording history, other than the retelling from one generation to the next. They don't have regular school. They don't need math, science, or even reading and writing. Confined inside a rock, they're forced to lead a simple life of survival, but everyone has to learn their history and their rules."

As we stand in a cluster, I tell them about Laeperian history, culture, traditions, and the people I came to know. Four more Jalsparians gather around and ask questions. I answer as long as I can, but I've been standing in one place too long. I'm getting really tired, and before I can answer the next question, a wave of dizziness and nausea wash over me, a reminder of how ill I've been. I start to fall, but Orson catches me.

"Do you need to lie down?"

I start to say no, but another wave of dizziness overcomes me, my ears buzz, and the light goes dim to dark.

When I awaken, I'm on the ground staring into the emerald eyes of several golden-furred creatures. Orson, his voice soft, asks. "Are you all right?"

I blink, trying to clear my head.

"Just hungry, I guess," I finally manage.

"I can help," he says. "Wait here."

"No problem," I say, closing my eyes again, enjoying the support of the soft ground. I don't think I'm sick, just weak and tired from my recent illness and from going too long without food or sleep.

Orson returns with a large cookie. At least that's what it looks like. I bite into it and find it's not sweet, but has an earthy and...um...substantial flavor. It's the first solid food I've had since the stews I was served in the Probius-2 mine before I got sick from the inidiclost dust.

"Thank you," I say between bites. "It's good."

"I brought you a drink, too. You might not like it, but it will renew your strength."

He hands me a cup, and I take a sip. It's slightly thick, and red. It tastes something like a cross between sowree fruit and potatoes. Not exactly yummy, but I drain the cup and thank him.

A female, who introduces herself as Skato, brings me a sleeping mat and a pillow, and asks that I stay until I fully regain my strength. "Do you feel like you can talk to us while you rest?" she asks politely.

So, as they sit on the ground around me, I tell them how those from my planet use the frozen moon for a dumping ground for humans they no longer find valuable, and how I found my way inside instead of freezing to death. I tell them how I left the Rock, through the crystalline tunnel, past the sulfur spring, and forged on for miles through the long, dark tunnel. I tell how I fell off a cliff into the deepest mine shaft of the Prologs. I don't go into why I left.

I ask how they came to be here.

Before they can answer, I hear Felix calling from the edge of the woods. "Hey, Maisewith, what are you doing? I warned you there were monsters in there." Apparently, he's afraid to enter, but concerned as evidenced by his next question. "Do you need help?"

"What did he say?" Orson asks.

I yell back to Felix. "I'm fine. I fainted, and they're taking care of me."

"Come out, if they'll let you." Felix's voice is shrill with fear.

"Felix. I'm fine. I'm just visiting with them."

"What's he saying," Orson asks again.

"He seems to be quite afraid of you. He thinks you've captured me."

Orson grins, darts toward Felix, holds up his hands like claws, and roars.

Felix runs.

I laugh and say, "I see why he's scared of you."

"No, I've never done that before. I shouldn't have, but it was too tempting."

Four of the Jalsparians get up to go. "Time to eat," Bornak says.

Orson explains. "It's our time to go to the center."

"You mean it's segregated? There are designated times you can use it? Why?"

"No, there are no rules, just the way it works out. If we go when it's busy with hairless people like you, which is the rest of the population, they try to ignore us, but make an obvious attempt to keep their distance, shut us out, or they leave. It makes it easier for all of us if we go after they've gone to bed."

"To bed? Wow. I didn't realize it was so late. Maybe I was passed out longer than I thought."

"Yeah. Quite a while. I was getting a little worried. And we talked for a long time, yet I feel there is so much more I'd like to discuss," Orson says.

"Well, I'd better get going. Thank you so much for the nourishment and the rest. You've been very kind."

Orson shrugs and says, "I hope you'll visit again."

I laugh. "Of course. I was about to ask if that would be all right."

"Very right. Come when the other hairless creatures are sleeping. I'll be awake—and waiting."

His smile and the soft look in his eyes make me feel—I don't know—light and happy. I think having a friend, no matter how hairy, will help me forget I am a prisoner.

Chapter 23

I notice the light has changed to a soft lavender glow. Felix and Jasmine are the only people I see as I go back to my hut. They're staring at me.

"So, are you hurt anywhere?" Jasmine asks, sounding more scornful than concerned.

"No. Why would I be hurt?"

"Those beasts are dangerous," Felix says. "I actually didn't expect to see you alive."

"How can you say that? What have they ever done to you?"

"You saw them come at me, claws out and growling!"

"One. Just one, Felix, and he was only teasing. They're really nice people. You'd know that if you'd give them a chance."

"First off, they're not people," Felix insists. "They must be some kind of mutant cross between animal and human in order to have all that body hair."

"So you hate them because they look different than you. That's racist."

Felix shrugs. "So? They don't even speak English, the universal language."

"The universe is a big place, and English speakers are a tiny fraction of the people who inhabit it." I feel my anger building and know I should walk away. Jasmine's next words obliterate that thought.

"You call us racist for saying a hairy ape isn't human? You're a freak, thinking you can be friends with monkeys that parade as people. Just wait till they turn on you and scratch your eyes out like the wild animals they are."

"You ignorant bigot! Have you ever tried to get to know them?"

"No, of course not," she yelps. "I just said they're animals."

"Having more hair on their bodies than we do doesn't make them less human. They are kind, intelligent, wise, thoughtful, and humane. Quite the opposite of you, it would seem."

Jasmine's face is red as she yells. "Don't ever compare me to those monsters." I'm sure she would have jabbed her white-knuckled fist into my face if Felix hadn't been holding her arms.

"Look, I'm sorry I lost my temper," I apologize, "but I don't take back anything that I said."

"Well, I don't either," Jasmine says.

"You know," I say. "You and I are never going to agree, but we're doomed to be neighbors whether we like it or not, so let's just stay out of each other's space."

"Gladly," Jasmine yells as I start to walk away. "Who'd want to be friends with a human who makes love with apes."

I turn back and say, as calmly as I can, given the rage I feel, but won't give her the satisfaction of seeing, "You need to get to know people before passing judgment, but since you don't want to do that, just stay away from me the same way you avoid the Jalsparians."

"Wait. I have a question," Felix says, resisting her tug on his arm. "How could you talk to them? Some sort of sign language?"

"No, I speak their language quite fluently, so it was just as easy to carry on a conversation with them as it is with you. Actually, easier."

"How could you learn their language?"

"I lived with a couple hundred of them not so long ago."

"I don't believe you." Jasmine says.

"I didn't ask you to." I turn and keep walking.

Felix yells, "Wait!"

He wants to know the details of what I just told him, but I don't care if he ever knows. I certainly don't care what Jasmine thinks.

As I follow the path to Nana's hut, Aidi runs to meet me. "I was waiting for you, Maisewith. Nanny let me stay up till you got here. Can I sleep at your house?"

Nana pokes her head out the hut's arched opening. "Oh, good, Maisey. We were getting worried. You didn't go into the woods did you?"

"I did, and it was great. I made some friends."

"What?"

"Nana, I'll tell you all about it tomorrow. I'm tired, and you probably are, too."

"Can I, can I?" Aidi begs. "Can I go to sleep in Maisey's hut?"

"It's 'may I,' not 'can I,' Aidi. And you'll have to ask Maisey."

"It's fine with me, but I must warn you; I won't be good company. I'm so tired I'll probably fall asleep the minute I lie down."

"That's okay. I won't keep you awake."

So Aidi follows me to my hut, carrying her sleeping pad, blanket, and pillow. As she struggles to keep from dragging them, I take the pad and blanket, leaving her with just the pillow. Once her bed is arranged next to mine, she falls asleep quickly. In a moment, I do, too.

When I wake, Aidi is gone. I don't know how long I've slept. As I step out of my hut, the bright sun bathes the landscape in a soft rosy hue. I hurry to the center, my bladder about to burst. It's busy, and the bathroom is crowded, but now is no time for shyness. I find a vacant toilet, struggle out of my coverall, and sit before I notice a man taking a shower across from me, no more than two meters away. I look at the floor until I finish, and then quickly pull up my jumpsuit. Why can't the Prologs at least give us two-piece clothing? I leave, eyes averted.

More people are in the kitchen area. As I enter, Aidi grabs me around the waist. "Maisey, you're awake. I was afraid you died, you slept so long."

"I guess I did. I was tired. But I feel much better now." I'll feel better yet when I can get a shower, but not until the crowd clears out.

Nana approaches and hugs me. "How do you feel?"

"Fine. Much better after a good night's sleep."

"More than that," Nana says. "We kept checking on you when you didn't wake up yesterday."

"How long did I sleep?"

"Two nights and a day and a half," she says. "You must have been exhausted."

"I guess I was. I've been recovering from an illness. Sleep seems to have been the cure. I feel better than I have in a long time."

Nana shares her food with me. It's good, similar to the stew I had on Probius-2. I thank her for making extra for me. But that's Nana. Always thinking of others.

When we finish, she suggests we go back to her garden to visit. She glances at the sky and says, "We have time before the rain comes."

Seated comfortably in front of her hut, I watch Aidlidah sit among the flowers catching humongous butterflies. They have no fear of her, but land on her pudgy fingers and in her hair.

"How old is Aidi?" I ask.

"Older than she seems. Almost sixteen. It's partly the trisomy 21 that makes her seem so childish."

"Partly?"

"Yes. It's not just the Down Syndrome that makes her different. There was a very noticeable change in her mental ability after coming here, as I told you."

"Something the Prolog's did in surgery?" I ask.

"Must have been," Nana says, "although it didn't seem to affect anyone else the same way. Almost everyone here underwent some kind of surgical procedure."

"To remove whatever the Reems and Johnsons hid in their bodies or brains," I muse. "Spy bots they found in the scan."

"It seems I'm about the only one who didn't require surgery. I passed the scan, I guess," Nana adds.

After a moment's reflection, I say, "Perhaps we should envy Aidi. She seems completely happy here, with no worry about the future."

"Yes. In that way she is blessed. She lives completely in the present, enjoying every minute," Nana agrees with a smile.

"How big is this place and how many people live here?" I ask.

"Not as big as it seems. We can see to the horizon, but we can't venture very far. We found one of the boundaries the hard way."

"What happened?"

"Aidi ran off one day, heading toward a rainbow we could see in the distance. She'd gone about 20 meters behind our hut when I heard her scream. When I got to her, she was lying on the ground screaming that somebody hit her in the face and threw her. When I asked who hit her, she looked confused. Finally, she said it was a ghost and pointed. I reached out to feel for the wall. It hit my hand with such force, I nearly fell down."

"I know the feeling," I say.

"I haven't explored any farther. I have no desire to repeat the experience. Aidi seems content to stay close to the hut, now"

"Are you acquainted with other prisoners?"

"Prisoners. Yes," Nana says. "That's what we all are. I tend to forget sometimes, or try to. I see people at the center, and I've met a few, but I don't know how many there are. I would guess maybe thirty by the number of huts I see, but they seem to avoid talking to me much."

"Yes, we're prisoners, and it makes me wonder what our jailers' intentions are."

"Do you think they'll ever let us go back to our home planet?" Nana asks.

I think about this for a moment. "I guess it depends on how much mercy they have. You know they could have killed us instead of putting us here where we are an added expense."

As I think about it, I can see no benefit for them in arranging transport for us to leave. Maybe they hope to learn something by keeping us, but what could it be? Our anatomy and physiology? I hope I don't become a lab specimen. Technical information? I have a feeling they know more about why we came here than we do. I'd sure like to know what they learned from the computer chip they took from my brain. My guess is they will use us if they can, and when that possibility is gone, well, so are we.

I sigh. "I guess we'll just have to wait and see. In the meantime, we should try to live in the moment like Aidi does."

After a short pause, Nana says, "So you did go into the woods. Tell me about the creatures you met."

"Nana, they aren't 'creatures' or the monsters you warned me about. They are hairy people from the planet Jalspar. I talked to them at length. They are very kind, smart, and compassionate."

"They speak English?"

"No, they speak Jalsparian, and so do I. It's what I learned when I lived inside the giant geode I told you about."

"I'm sorry I misjudged them."

"Everyone here does. And it's not fair. I hope I can change that."

"If anyone can, it will be you. Your greatest talents, as far as I can see, are your diplomacy and your ability to learn languages like most of us learn our names."

"Nanny," Aidi says, pointing.

"Oh, look. The clouds," Nana says. "It'll rain soon. Then it'll be time to eat and prepare for bed."

"Hurry,"Aidi screams, crawling into the hut.

"I'll dash up to the center. Maybe I can get a shower and change clothes while it's raining."

"Better hurry," Nana says.

I dash up the shortcut Aidi showed me.

Unfortunately, I'm not the only one interested in hitting the showers. At least the three other occupants of the bathroom are women, so I quickly undress, pick a shower head, and look for controls. I'm doused with cold water. I gasp.

"I hold my hand under it until it comes warm," a middle-aged woman tells me. "As you see, all the water taps are controlled by motion sensors."

"Good to know," I mutter, stepping back into the stream that is now bordering on too hot. A dispenser on the wall fills my hand with soap, which I use on my hair and body.

When I finish and step out of the shower, the woman hands me a towel.

"You're new here. I'm Jo Anne Thompson. I came here from Costra a month ago, hoping for a job teaching English in their schools. That's what the ad I answered said I would do. 'An exciting career with the added adventure of space travel.' Instead I ended up here."

"Glad to meet you, Jo Anne. I'm Maisewith Reems. I came from Costra, too, but not directly."

"Oh, you must be one of Jedd and Jadith's adoptees. It's a shame how they try so hard to save orphans, and then something tragic happens to them."

"Um, yeah, I guess. How often has that happened?"

"Oh, I don't know. Over the years, beginning when they had their foundation on earth and then continuing it on Costra, I expect there have been dozens."

"Hm, isn't it curious that tragedy has struck so many?"

"Well, not to all of them, I suppose. I'm sure it was an unfortunate coincidence for the ones who died. But then they do so much space travel, I guess they should expect some loss. Not everyone is cut out for that."

"Have you met the Reems? Personally?"

"Oh yes. Fine people. I met Jadith after I signed up for the job here. She said she'd learned that helping travelers relax made their trip more enjoyable. She gave me some wine and put me in a room with soft music. It was very relaxing. I don't know how long I slept. I guess she's learned from the past and figured out how to make it safer for a newbie like me."

Yeah, right! Rather how to sneak a spy bot into you! But I just say, "So nice meeting you Jo Anne. I've got to find clean clothes."

"Follow me," she says and goes into the next room where she throws both her jumpsuit and mine into a machine. "Towels too," she says, reaching for mine.

I hand it over and grab a jumpsuit off the center pile of clothes. It's too big, but at least I'm covered before a man walks in, buck naked, gets a towel, and riffles through the stack of clothes as if there were any variety in the jumpsuits. I hurry outside, away from his sideways glances.

The rain has stopped, and I see people coming to the center, probably for food before bedtime. I'm not hungry so I decide to explore.

I almost collide with Felix as he turns a corner from the path where our huts sit, far too close to each other. I'm going to have to find a more remote site.

"Hey, there. You're just the person I wanted to talk to," Felix says.

I look for Jasmine, but don't see her. "What?"

"You don't have to be so grumpy," Felix says. "Jaz was the one being rude to you. I want to be your friend."

"I don't think that's a good idea. Your girlfriend is obviously a bit possessive. And though I appreciate your help, I think it's better to keep our distance so Jasmine doesn't feel threatened."

"Yeah? Well there's something Jasmine knows about your family that might make you wish you made a little effort to be her friend. I'd tell you, but I promised not to."

"I doubt there's anything she can tell me that I don't already know or suspect."

"Oh, yeah? I bet there is."

"Okay, what?"

"Jasmine noticed that all..." Felix whispers conspiratorially, "and I mean all of Jadith's adopted children eventually end up dead or lost. You better watch out, or Jadith will find a way to get rid of you, too."

"Not such a secret, Felix. A lady in the center, just basically told me the same thing."

I don't mention that Jadith has already tried to get rid of me and will again, if she ever finds me alive.

Chapter 24

I head down the main path, leaving Felix standing with his arms folded across his chest, his chin in the air, like he's the king, and I'm his fool.

As I near the woods, I wonder if Orson might be up and about, but realize they're probably all sleeping until the "red sun" disappears behind the horizon.

I turn toward some willows and come to the stream that flows from the woods. The bushes I saw are on the other side of the river. There are no huts in sight because of a low hill between here and the main path. Not a bad place to put my hut—until someone else decides to put theirs nearby. I keep exploring. Farther down the hill, closer to the stream, seems as good a place as any.

I go back to the hut I erected near Felix's to dissemble it. Constructed of light-weight blocks that interlock, I find taking it apart much harder than putting it together. I'm still trying to find a place to start when I hear a voice behind me. "Perhaps we can help," spoken in Jalsparian.

"Orson!" I scramble to my feet and turn to him and another Jalsparian male.

"I can't figure out how to unlock it."

"You're trying to take it apart?"

"I want to move it. I found a better spot."

Orson whistles to another male who comes trotting over. "You take the floor," he orders his friend. "Tocran and I will carry the hut."

Orson and Tocran rotate the dome a few centimeters and lift it off the floor. "Lead the way, Maisewith," Orson says.

As a female joins us, I grab my bundle of clothes and wrap them in the blanket.

"My name is Lukita," the girl says. "I'll carry your sleeping pad."

"Thank you." I pick up my pillow and trot down the trail in front of the Jalsparians, for they are moving quite swiftly, as if carrying a whole hut is no chore at all. When I get to the edge of the river, I stop and point. Orson shakes his head. "This is in the floodplain. You'll get washed away every time it rains. Let me help you find a better spot."

He walks upstream and I follow. The other three wait with the hut.

"There." He points to a grassy knoll on the other side. On it is a small clearing, with trees on three sides.

"I love it," I exclaim, "but how do I get to it?"

"Look," he says, pointing upstream. "A tree has fallen, just to make you a bridge." He's laughing. Not at anyone, but with what feels like pure delight. A log, about a half-meter in diameter, lies across the swirling water from bank to bank. He steps onto it and starts breaking off dead branches that would block the way for the hut. "Go tell the others to bring it this way," he tells me.

I half skip, half run back to them. For the moment, at least, I feel like a grand adventurer instead of a prisoner with an uncertain future. I guess I'm learning a bit about living in the present.

I grab my bundle and lead the way. Orson has the log cleared of obstruction, and we cross on what I consider a very fine bridge. In seconds I have my hut set in the lovely clearing with the opening facing a beautiful view of the stream.

"Welcome to the neighborhood," Lukita says, sweeping her arm to include the woods across the river.

"Thank you."

"Let's get back to the center. I want to eat," says the one who carried the floor. Actually, the word he uses for center translates as "house."

"Thank you for your help," I say, "but before you go, I'd like to know your name."

"Rakar," he says. "And I know yours. Orson talks about you all the time."

Looking at Orson, I ask. "Really? Nothing bad, I hope."

"He exaggerates," Orson says, winking. "And how could it be bad? I know nothing bad about you. Maybe you'll tell me."

"You coming?" Rakar asks.

"No. I'm not hungry," Orson says. "Go on, but bring back some of that brown powder so we can make some more of our energy drink."

Looking around me, I marvel at the beauty of this place. It's verdant, as far as I can see, blowing my theory that the Prologs evolved with scaly skin to survive a desert-like environment. Maybe it's more accurate to think, because of their bilateral nares, they evolved from fish. I wonder if this planet has any oceans.

"I've got to explore. I haven't seen this much natural beauty since, well, ever," I say. The only home I'd known on Earth was smog-filled and crowded with people and traffic. The small park near our house, was marred with foot paths across the withered grass. And though I heard about parks in towering mountains "out west," I was never able to travel there. I was told that Costra had fields and gardens out where the natives used to live, but I was limited to Imron City, colonized by Earthlings. I was either in school, sleeping, or, who knows? From reports of others, I was sometimes far afield, unconsciously doing Jadith's bidding.

I wander through the trees behind my hut, breathing in the delicious smell of rain-washed air and green growing things. Orson keeps pace by my side. Overtaken by a sudden impulse to play, I slap him on the shoulder, shout, "You're it," and run.

He doesn't start after me, stunned, I suppose, by my seeming loss of sanity. I stop and turn. "It's a game. You're supposed to try to catch me." I trot off into more trees.

When I hear his footsteps closing in on me, I dart toward an outcropping of rock that looks like a good place to dodge.

"No. Stop!" Orson calls just before I am slammed hard in the face and repelled backward through the air to land on my back, the wind knocked out of me.

Orson is immediately by my side, asking if I'm okay.

I shake my head, rise to my hands and knees, gasping for breath. When I finally recover, I say, "You must think I'm crazy. I forgot about the wall."

"You must not do that often. The effects on one's brain and body accumulate, I'm told.

Suddenly tears threaten to fall, and I don't know why, but I'm shaking from the shock of the blow, and I feel like a complete idiot for running into the wall three times. I'm sure I've lost the respect of my new friend.

He puts his arm around me and pulls me close. I lean my head on his chest and let the tears fall.

"I'm sorry that happened to you," he says as he strokes my hair. "And I do not think you're crazy."

Once I quit shaking, I pull away. "Thank you," I say.

He stands and pulls me up. "Come. I want to show you where I live."

We follow the river a short distance upstream and cross on the stepping stones I found earlier, and soon enter the thick forest.

"The wall is only a farson that way, so be careful," Orson warns.

"What's a farson?"

"About six paces," and he demonstrates by taking long strides.

"This way," he calls leading me to a large tree and climbing into the lower branches.

I've never climbed a tree before, but it looks easy, so I follow, thrilled as I gain elevation from one branch to the next. I've found my new favorite sport.

A little more than halfway to the top, Orson stops and says, "Welcome to my nest."

He has made a platform between two sturdy limbs, securing it with vines of some kind, wound and tied like rope. A sleeping mat, blanket, and pillow identical to the ones I got from the center make his bed. He steps out onto a branch and over to the bed, sitting in the middle of it. "Would you join me?" he asks.

I follow and sit beside him.

"Are all Jalsparians tree dwellers?" I ask.

"No, not on the home planet. It just seemed like a good idea since we are not welcome in the company of the hairless. If I ever get back, I might adopt it as my lifestyle, though we don't have many forests left."

"Do you think we will ever get home? Or is this where we will die?"

"Not such a bad place to live out one's life. But I doubt that's what the karqua have in mind for us."

"I don't know that word," I say.

Orson describes a lizard-like creature from his planet that has a flat face, large mouth, wide-set eyes and scaly skin. "Only it skitters on all fours," Orson adds.

Felix called the Prologs, lizard-heads, and Orson calls them karqua. I wonder if it's dangerous to think of them as less than highly intelligent and powerful adaptations of evolution, every bit as efficiently advanced as the homo sapiens from earth, if not more so.

"Prologs," I say.

"What?"

"This planet is called Prologi by the people who live here. They call themselves Prologs. They may look reptilian, but they have an advanced society and are technologically superior to the settlers on Costra, who think they're the smartest beings in the universe."

"Costra?"

"The planet I came from. The Prologs call it Botek, and you call it...?"

After describing where it is in the sky in relation to Jalspar and Falstar, aka Prologi, Orson figures out what I'm talking about and says, "Depstar. It was on our list of worlds to explore if this one didn't work out."

"Why were you imprisoned here?"

"Don't know. They seemed angry when they found our communications system in our ship."

"Spies," I say. "They don't want aliens sending messages back to potential invaders. I think they're determined to keep this world to themselves."

"Kind of selfish."

"Maybe, but I don't blame them. If they have seen how we—and I'm speaking of the Earth colonizers who invaded Costra—how they used up Earth's resources, destroyed nature and each other with greed and shortsighted mismanagement, they'd expect them to do the same here. And they'd be right, for they're doing the same thing to Costra."

"I hadn't thought of it that way, but it's true of Jalspar, also. It's the smallest of the three habitable planets in this double-sun system, and it's overcrowded, polluted, and poor. It's why I and my shipmates are here. Looking for a new place to live."

"I don't think the Prologs intend to send us home," I say. "I'm just trying to figure out why they've let us live here this long. Sure we're confined, but wouldn't it be easier and less expensive to just kill us? And why give us the most beautiful area? Or maybe all of Prologi is this nice."

"I've wondered the same thing many times, but I can't imagine the answer."

"How can we ever get out of here?" I ask, more to myself than to him. "We can't walk through walls or fly over invisible fences."

"We're at their mercy," Orson says solemnly.

"So, I need to talk to them, but how?"

"First you'd have to be able to speak their language."

"I can. I learned it when I lived with them in their mine on the moon, Laeperia. They call it Probius-2"

"I envy your ability to talk other languages."

"I can teach you."

"Good. When can we begin?"

Matik peeks over the edge of Orson's nest. "Cavorting with the hairless, are you, Orson?" He says some more words I haven't heard before.

"What does that mean," I ask.

"Nothing," Orson says, scowling. "Matik is being a school boy with a twisted mind."

"Well then," I say, "I can guess the gist of it. Anyway, it's time for me to go. I want to shower before the center gets crowded."

"Better hurry, before Orson ensnares you," Matik says with a teasing grin.

I ignore Matik and say, "The hairless, as you call us, will be up and about soon. I want to get to know them. Maybe I'll learn something that will answer our questions about why we're here and what happens next."

"I'll see you later, then," Orson says. "You promised a language lesson. Don't forget."

As I approach the center, I see a strange looking vehicle parked in front of it. It looks like a flat-bed truck, but it's hovering on a pad of air. Its long bed is filled with supplies that two Prologi males are unloading into the center.

Before I reach the entrance, the Prologs come out, propelling a man, whose hands are bound, between them. They put him in the truck, lock his restraints to a bar, and drive away. Apparently the "gate" is open for them, as they buzz out of sight over a rise. As I watch, their vehicle rises into the air, headed in the direction of the city, and disappears over the horizon.

"What's going on," I ask Jo Anne.

"They take someone every time they bring supplies, every ten to twenty days."

"What do they do with them?"

"We don't know. They never come back."

Chapter 25

People straggle into the center, to the bathroom, first, and then the kitchen where I'm looking for something to eat and waiting to get acquainted with those coming in.

"Hi, my name is Maisey." (I've decided that's easier. I don't get so many weird looks and requests to repeat.) "I'm new here. How about you?"

"I'm Sylvia Truit. I came here at least a month ago, hoping for a relaxing vacation. Instead, I was put in some kind of glass chamber with moving lights, apprehended, and put to sleep in an operating room. I woke up with no evidence any surgery was done. Then I was brought here."

"Why? Did they explain?"

"They don't speak a word of English, and I sure can't understand their gibberish."

"No indication of why they might have been upset? Maybe they found something when they scanned you."

"I don't know what it would be. I had nothing to hide. I think it's criminal. Someone should make a law..." Her voice trails off.

"I guess they are the ones to make the laws," I say, "and there isn't much we can do about it. I'd like to ask them, though."

"We don't have any access to their bigwigs. The ones who come here to bring supplies don't speak at all."

As another lady approaches, Sylvia says, "Maisey, this is my friend Ardith. She and I came together on the J and R Planetary Cruise line. If we ever get back, we're going to sue them."

"You bet we are. They didn't say a word about the possibility of getting arrested."

Pudgy arms wrap around my waist. "Maisey! Where you been?"

I mutter, "Excuse me" to the two women, and turn to hug Aidi.

"Good to see you, little sister," I say. "Where's Nana?"

"Comin'," Aidi says. "She getting kind of poky."

I look out to see Nana trudging toward the center, using a walking stick for support. I'm shocked to notice how quickly she's aging.

I help Nana prepare breakfast for the three of us. I find all the ingredients I think were in the stew I ate at the mine and start cooking the mystery meat. I'm still a bit leery about eating it, but it does taste good. Nana and Aidi peel and dice vegetables.

When done, it's kind of flat. I sigh. "It looks the same. I wonder how they made it taste so good. Nana opens a spice storage bin and begins sniffing spices. She drops in a pinch of some and a spoonful of another, tasting and adding more in increments. By the time she's done, it's delicious. We carry our bowls outside to a table. We've nearly finished when Felix and Jasmine arrive. I follow them into the center's kitchen. This place is too small to have enemies, I've decided.

"I made stew, and we have a lot leftover. Want some?"

"Are you kidding?" Jasmine says. "I wouldn't dare eat anything you prepared. It's probably poison."

I roll my eyes. Making friends with Jasmine won't be easy. Probably not worth the effort.

"I'll have some," Felix says.

"If you eat that, I'm not speaking to you again," Jasmine says.

"Jaz, you're being petty," Felix says.

"I'm being serious," she argues. "You don't eat food prepared by the enemy."

"What makes her the enemy?"

Jasmine snarls, "If you have to ask, you're not my friend."

As they continue to argue, Aidi hands me her empty bowl. "More, please."

I fill her bowl and ask, "Does Nana want more?"

"No, she's full. I finished her stew for her. She's going back to the hut."

Sylvia says, "If you're looking for takers, I'd love to sample your stew."

I fill her bowl. "There's enough left for Ardith, if she'd like to finish it up.

Sylvia thanks me and offers to clean the pot and put it away.

"Thanks," I say. "I need to see about Nana."

She's lying on her bed when I crawl into her hut. "Are you okay?"

"Just tired," she says.

I don't believe her. I feel her head. No fever, in fact she feels quite cold. Suddenly she lurches up and scoots past me, just making it to the edge of her garden before throwing up the stew.

"How long have you been sick?" I ask, noticing another pile of vomit drying nearby.

"It's been getting worse, lately. Harder to take care of Aidi, and I worry about her," Nana admits. "It's probably nothing serious."

"I hope you're right, but until it goes away, you mustn't worry about anyone but yourself. Let us take care of you for a change," I say, tucking her blanket around her.

She shivers uncontrollably.

"You hear that, Aidi?" I ask. "It's up to you to look after Nana whenever I'm not here to help. Take good care of her. I know you can. Come to the depot with me, now, to get more blankets and some fresh water. You know what to do with them. Right?"

"Cover her up good and give her a drink," Aidi says.

"And stay by her side so she can tell you what she needs, and then you can get it for her."

"She likes to hear me sing," Aidi says.

"Good. Ask her if she would like that, and if she does, sing for her. You have a beautiful voice. I've heard you."

When Aidi heads back to the hut from the center, with blankets and a container of fresh water, I stand on a step stool and emit a shrill whistle. The room quiets, and I ask. "Is there a medical doctor among us?"

Three hands go up.

"Who will come with me and examine a sick woman? She's very ill."

"I'll go," says a lady with gray hair.

She follows me to Nana's hut.

The woman, Dr. Rosen, kneels beside Nana and asks to look at her throat. She takes her pulse, examines her eyes and ears as best she can without an otoscope, asks questions, tests reflexes, and finally, sits back on her haunches and says, "Continue what you're doing. Rest and drink lots of water. I'll come back to check on you tomorrow."

Dr. Rosen crawls out the opening, for not even Aidi can stand up in it. I think, not for the first time, that the Prologs have provided igloo-shaped dog kennels for our shelter. Once we're standing outside the hut, I ask Dr. Rosen what's wrong with Nana.

"I don't know. Her symptoms don't fit any disease I'm familiar with. And without access to a lab for blood testing, MRI, or any other scanning devise, I'm at a loss."

"We've got to get help from our captors," I say. "They are far ahead of Costra in medical knowledge, equipment, and procedures."

"And how do you propose to get any help from them. We don't see any of them but once every ten days when they come to replenish supplies."

"And they just came," I acknowledge. "Will Nana live another ten days?"

"That's anyone's guess. But I wouldn't count on it."

I can't just sit and watch her die. I've got to do something. I check on Nana again, and find Aidi sitting next to her, gently rubbing her forehead, and singing. She really does have a lovely voice. I tell them I'm going for a walk, and Nana assures me she's in good care and not to worry.

I walk down paths I haven't walked before, pass more huts and gardens until I've pretty much covered the extent of the prison compound. It's longer than it is wide, from the gate to the back of the forested home of the Jalsparians. I estimate, from the number of huts, that there are approximately thirty people dispersed around the center, and there are nine Jalsparians living in the forest. There is room for a few more huts, several more, if people dared build near the forest or on the other side of the river. So far, I'm the only one who has crossed the waterway that enters the compound above the forested area and goes out somewhere behind the center. I wonder if a person could swim under the wall, but quickly discard that idea when I see that the stream at both the entry and exit is no more than 12 to 15 centimeters deep, probably a deciding factor on where the shield was erected.

As I walk back to my hut, I find Orson waiting. "Hello," he says, "I've come for my language lesson."

I sigh, and flop down beside him. "I've got to find a way out of here."

"Yes," he agrees, laughing. "Don't we all?"

"No. I mean I really have to figure out a way to get help for my nanny. She's very ill, and there are no medical resources here. Three doctors, but no medicine."

"I'm sorry your friend is unwell." Orson takes my hand and brings it to his lips. Concern fills his eyes, leaving no doubt that he means it.

We sit in silence for a while. Finally, he says, "Maybe the elixir I gave you when you fainted would help her."

"Yes!" I exclaim, grasping at the possibility. "It's worth a try."

"Come, then. I'll give you some to take to her."

We cross the creek into the forest and walk without speaking to an area where the lower branches of huge trees have been cleared, the upper ones providing a dense roof leaving the area almost dark. I can see that the Jalsparians have used the wood from the cleared branches to make shelves and bins for storing items.

"I recently mixed a fresh batch," Orson says, pouring from a pitcher obviously snagged from the center. He hands me the cup with instructions that she drink a third of it now, another after a nap, and finish it after sleeping again. "She will sleep long after each drink, so don't be alarmed."

I thank him and ask if he'd like to go with me.

"And frighten your poor nanny to death? No. I'll stay here. I'll wait for you at your hut, so you can give me the lessons you promised."

I thank him and hurry back to Nana with new hope When I get there, I find her sitting up, holding her stomach, rocking back and forth. 'Oh, Nana. You're hurting, aren't you. Where's Aidi?"

"Gone for help. Looking for you. I hope she doesn't get lost and run into the wall again."

"Here, Nana. I have something that might help. Sip some of this."

Nana shakes her head. "No, nothing more in my stomach, please."

"But it's medicine. It might help."

She quits rocking and takes the cup. After the first sip, she cries out in pain. "No. I can't," and then she starts to vomit, heaving, but nothing but a bit of green bile comes out.

"I'm so sorry. I'll get the doctor."

As I crawl out, I see Aidi leading Dr. Rosen down the path. "Hurry," I urge, "She's in a lot of pain."

Dr. Rosen examines her again, and says, "It seems like an obstructed bowel. Her abdomen is hard but as smooth as a sheet of glass. It's not like any I've ever felt before. I don't know what to make of it."

I look at the cup in my hand. If only she could drink enough to help her sleep, but I don't dare ask her to try again.

"Lie down, Nanny," Aidi orders. "I'll rub your tummy and sing you another song."

Nana smiles and says, "Bless you, child, but please rub my head with your gentle touch. Don't touch my tummy."

Aidi gently massages Nana's scalp and forehead as she sings. I stay by her side until Nana falls asleep. "You're good medicine, Aidi. Keep it up," I say. "I'll be back.

Orson is waiting at my hut, and I tell him his remedy didn't work. "There is nothing I can do without help from the Prologs. If only I could get to Zeraf, I might have a chance."

"Impossible," Orson says.

"Maybe not. One never knows when they are going to bring another prisoner. When they do, the gate is open long enough for the prisoner to enter. If I hide near the gate, I can rush out before it closes."

"Suicide, Maise. Please don't try it. They won't hesitate to kill you if you try to escape."

"I have to try."

"And what if no one comes?"

"Then Nana will die. But if I succeed, she might have a chance. Therefore, I have to try."

I stand to leave, and Orson grasps my hand. "You're going now?"

"Yes. I can't risk missing a chance." I bring his hand to my lips and say, "I'm sorry about the lesson, but I have a feeling the gate will open soon."

"Then this is goodbye, for even if they let you live, they won't let you come back."

"It's a risk I have to take, Orson. I'm sorry to leave you, but there is no future staying in this prison and dying here. I've got to get out in order to help anyone."

"Goodbye, then. I will never forget you."

"Nor I you. Let's just hope my plan works."

"I find myself hoping the opposite—that you will have to stay, but I will wish, for your sake, not only that you get out, but that they let you live."

Chapter 26

The shrubbery near the gate is low and sparsely spaced, but its foliage is thick. I choose a cluster of two of the larger bushes, the only ones big enough to hide me, near the entrance, or as near as I can remember where the invisible barrier crosses the road. I'm not interested in touching it again, fearing Orson is right about the cumulative effects of such strong shocks.

The ground is grassy and not too hard, thanks to the daily rains, I suppose.

The rain! These bushes are not going to give much protection from a downpour. I scan the sky for clouds, but there are none. And I don't see any approaching air bus or "silver bullet," as I call the sleek flying car that brought me here. There is no guarantee that one will even come, but I have to be ready if it happens.

It's hard to see the area beyond the gate and still stay hidden from anyone approaching it. I try various positions until I find a break between the lower branches of the two bushes. If I lie on my side, and keep my legs bent so my feet don't stick out, I can keep an eye on the sky beyond the fence.

After about ten minutes, I realize the waiting may be the hardest part of this plan. I shift my weight, sit up, sneak a peek over the top of the bushes, and sigh. What a test of patience! Not my strong point. As time slugs on, I think it would be nice if I had someone to talk to—that someone being Orson, I realize. I miss him already. Not that I want him or anyone else with me to give away my position. Two people couldn't hide here easily.

Okay, Maisey. Boredom is a malady of the mind, not the fault of circumstances. As long as you can think, there is no excuse for being bored.

I've got to use my brain, figure out exactly what I'll do if and when a vehicle arrives and the gate opens to admit someone. I'll have about two seconds to charge through it. They could shoot me, but I don't think they will. It's a chance I have to take. I have to convince whatever Prolog makes the delivery to take me to their leader, or preferably to Zeraf. Wouldn't it be nice if the airbus driver was Teranik? I don't think she'd shoot me on sight. If I can make anyone listen to me, I have to convince them to bring Nana to their medical facility. They may be curious about what her malady. Or they may know by the symptoms and do not care what happens to any of us.

There has to be something in it for them, so I've got to trade something they want for the help I want. What can I offer that could possibly benefit them? All I have are my verbal skills. I know languages and how to use them—persuasively. I hope. I can promise to translate for them, maybe serve as a spy to learn the plans of their enemies, which as far as I can tell, is anyone who comes here. But will they trust me? They don't seem to be long on trust.

As nothing happens for a long time, and the sun warms my back, my eyelids grow heavy. Alarmed that I almost fell asleep, I sit up. Nothing has changed. No clouds. No cars. I've tried to stay tuned to any change in sound, though, as I remember, the bullet I came in didn't make much noise, other than the whooshing of air past its streamlined body.

As I feel myself getting sleepy, I stand, walk around, and breathe deeply, keeping my eyes on the horizon. When I feel alert, I take a position on the ground again, this time lying on my other side, my feet and body behind the shorter of the two bushes. As long as I stay tightly curled in this position, I can see without being seen. I wait. I do mental gymnastics to stay awake. But it's no use, I drift off while dreaming that I'm still watching.

I'm shocked awake by breathtakingly cold water slamming my entire body. Who is drenching me with a bucket full of ice water? Did a Prolog see me?

No, I realize as I jump up, only to be knocked back down. It's the rain. And it's pounding me hard. I press as close to the bushes as I can get, pull my knees tightly under me, hunch my back, lower my head, and cover it with my arms. There is nothing to do but bear the onslaught until it subsides, hoping by skin won't be ripped to shreds before it does.

After ten minutes that seem like hours, the pummeling stops—instantly—as if someone just closed a spigot. Raising to my knees, I peer over the shrubbery. There is nothing new to see but scattered dots in the air that shimmer like tiny rainbows as the sun shines through the quickly disappearing raindrops. How is it rain can touch the wall without being repelled? I'd really like to know the chemistry and physics of that barrier.

Soaked and shivering, I jog to the center through the mild purple light. I see Jalsparians milling around in the kitchen as I duck into the bath. Six of the eight showers are occupied by Jalsparians, chatting and laughing as they lather their golden fur. When they see me, all conversation stops.

"Don't mind me," I say. "I'll just jump in this spot. I need to warm up." I step under a shower head in my drenched clothes. I let the warm water flow over me warming my wet coveralls and then my body.

"You bathe in your clothing?" a female asks.

"Not usually, but I'm a little shy. And since I'm not really dirty, just cold..."

"What happened?" someone asks.

"I was caught outside when the storm came," I explain, facing the wall to avoid staring at the bathers.

"We're mostly done," a familiar voice says. "We'll leave you some privacy as soon as we finish."

"Orson. Thank you!" I glance at him as he steps out of the shower. His wet fur clings to his well sculpted muscles. I gulp and turn back to the wall. "I'll just stand here warming up for a while."

One by one the Jalsparians get out of the showers and pivot in front of a portion of the wall where air blows them dry. There are four blowers at evenly spaced levels, from head to ankles. And there are four stations.

When all but Orson leave the room, he asks, "Are you okay? It's not advisable to stay out in the rain."

"Just bruised. I fell asleep and didn't see it coming."

"Will you come to my place to nap? Your plan won't work if you sleep out there."

"You're right about that," I admit.

"So, you'll come?"

"I'll think about it. I'd probably get more sleep in my hut. But first I need to see Nana."

"I'll prepare some food for us while you dry and dress," Orson says. "Then we can discuss where you should rest."

The food he offers when I emerge, all dry, dressed in a clean jumpsuit, and warm to the bone, is delicious. "You are a master cook," I tell him.

"I learned from my father when I worked in his eatery back home. I have to improvise here, as the ingredients, especially the vegetables and spices are not the same."

After we eat at an outdoor table, which is already dry after the rain, Orson accompanies me to Nana's hut, apparently not willing to let me out of his sight. Aidi sits in the middle of the garden, singing and making a lei.

"Hi Aidi, how is Nana?"

"Sleeping," she answers as she stares at Orson.

"This is my friend, Orson," I tell her.

"Hi, Orson." She smiles. "Is that your hair or do you have on a fur suit under your clothes?"

"He doesn't speak our language, Aidi, so I'll answer for him. It's his hair. All the people from his planet have the same lovely color of fur."

"I think it's pretty," Aidi says.

I translate, and Orson says, "Please tell her I think she's pretty, too, and I hope we'll be friends."

I translate, and her face lights up in her biggest smile. She jumps up and hugs him, steps back, and hands him her necklace of flowers.

He bows from the waist and says, "Thank you."

"He said, 'thank you,' didn't he?" Aidi says, excited. "I'm starting to understand his talk, already!"

I duck into the hut to check on Nana. She's sleeping soundly, her breathing, shallow. Careful not to wake her, I crawl out and stand near Aidi, who is jabbering away, pointing to things and saying their names. Orson answers by repeating the English name and saying the Jalsparian equivalent.

"Good," I say. "I see you're finally getting your language lesson."

Orson smiles. "Aidi's a good teacher."

"How's Nana been?" I ask Aidi.

"She drinks water okay, but she throws up if she eats anything. She has pain in her tummy, and she's really weak. She can barely make it outside to puke."

"How long has she been sleeping?"

"Just long enough for me to make a flower chain, and I'm pretty fast," Aidi says.

"Well, I'm going to go take a nap myself. I'll stop and check on her when I wake up."

I think I won't be able to sleep in Orson's tree nest, but he talks me into trying. I lie on his bed that gently rocks in the breeze-blown boughs. I find it much more comfortable than the mat in my hut. I start to talk, but he says, "Shhh. Sleep is what you need. I'll help you."

Sitting beside me, he gently caresses my forehead and runs his fingers lightly through my damp hair. I close my eyes and relax, realizing how much I've missed human touch. There has been far too little of it in my life. In seconds, I'm soothed to a peaceful sleep.

When I wake, refreshed, Orson's gone. The light has changed, and other Jalsparians are climbing to their tree nests, some giving me an embarrassed glance as they go by. Orson's friend, Rakar, isn't so shy. "Hiyai, Orson's treasure! Are you going to live here and become one of our clan?"

"Hi, Rakar," I say, "I'm not. But what would you think if I did?"

He shrugs and smiles. "I'd welcome you," he says. "Not sure about everyone else."

I start climbing down the tree and meet Orson on his way up. "Maise! I was just coming to check on you. You slept long. Are you rested?"

"I am. I feel great. Thank you."

"And now?"

"I'm going to check on Nana, and then I'm going back to watch the gate."

"I was afraid you'd say that, so I packed a lunch for you and a container of water."

I thank him, my hand lingering on his, before I turn to go.

"Wait," he says, grasping my arm gently. "Since I might never see you, again, may I kiss you? It may very well be our last goodbye, though I beg all the gods in the universe that it's not."

Tears come to my eyes, but I nod. His lips are warm and soft, and I do not want to go. I must though. I pull away. He wipes my tears with his thumb and puts it in his mouth as his eyes hold mine with a look so tender, I want to jump back into his arms. I resist with all the fortitude I can muster, stepping back as a sob catches in my throat.

"May your mission be successful," he says, as tears well in his eyes, too.

Chapter 27

I can hear Nana's shriek of pain die to a whimper as I approach her hut. Ducking in, I find Aidi sitting beside Nana's prone form, eyes wide with fear. As soon as she sees me, she grabs my arm and pulls me in.

"I don't know what to do," she cries. "When I rub her tummy like she used to like, she screams. And I can't get enough blankets to get her warm."

The blankets are piled about six deep, yet Nana is huddled on her side, tightly holding the covers over her head with just her face uncovered. I put my hand on her forehead. Cold. As cold as death, I think in alarm. I fall back on my haunches, staring, searching for some sign of life. "Nana," I whisper, and she opens her eyes.

"Maisey," she murmurs.

"Nana, what can I do?" I can't hide the fear in my voice.

"Nothing, dear," She whispers. I lean over her, my ear closer to her mouth. "Dr. Rosen was here with two other doctors. They don't know what's wrong."

"I'm going to get help."

"I'm dying, Maisey. Just tell me you'll take care of Aidi when I'm gone."

"Oh, Nana. If you can only hold on a little longer. I'm going to get help from the Prologs. They'll know what to do."

"The pain, Maise." Her voice is so weak, now, I can hardly make it out. "I just hope death comes quickly."

"I'm going for help. I have to."

"Be careful," she grunts.

"Stay with her, Aidi." I give my frantic little sister an affectionate pat on her head. "I'll be back if I can."

As I run toward the gate, I see a man striding in my direction. As soon as I'm in earshot I call out. "Where did you come from?"

He frowns but doesn't break his stride until we meet.

"That's some way to greet a newcomer. Is everyone here that rude?" he growls.

"Sorry, I'm just desperate to find the gate open. Did you just come through it?"

"What gate? There isn't even a fence the way I came."

"How did you get here?" I ask. I guess not everyone challenges the invisible barrier.

"Not that it's any of your business, but I was brought here in a flying car. The alien who drove it let me out, pointed this direction, and said, 'new home.'"

I missed my chance. I'm far too disappointed to argue about who's the alien here or about a fence no one can see. I gulp back the urge to cry and ask. "When you arrived on this planet, were you alone?"

"Of course not. There were four passengers in my shuttle. The others were still in the building where they scanned us. They treated us like prisoners, and I'm pretty sure they impounded my ship. I expect I'll get my day in court, and they'll return it to me. I don't plan to stay here, even though it is a pretty place. They seem to be giving me land, but I have a business to run."

I'm silent, deciding whether I want to disillusion him. But then I think, what if he's a doctor or some kind of scientist that could help. "What business?" I ask.

"I own the best space shuttle service on Costra. They'd better give me back my ship, unharmed, or there'll be hell to pay."

No, I decide, I'll let him learn about this place and his aliens on his own.

"Enjoy your stay," I quip as I turn to continue my race to the gate.

"Wait!" he commands. "Where can I find material to build myself a house."

"Follow this road to the first big building you see. We call it Central Supply Depot. There are building blocks for your hut beside it. You can build anywhere that isn't already occupied."

"Hut?" he blusters. "They as much as promised me land. I'm building a house—a big one, though probably only half the size of my mansion at home, since it's temporary."

"Good luck," I say as I trot away. "And beware of the fence."

He says something, but I don't stop to find out what it is. The four passengers he brought could be coming, and I want to be ready. The shrubbery I hid behind yesterday is off the road several meters. I wish it were closer, as I won't have much time, and if they see me coming, they'll shut the gate before I get there. Before huddling behind the bushes, the only ones big enough to hide me, I search the sky for clouds. There are none, but I see a flash of reflected light in the distance in the direction of the city. I crouch and watch as an air bus looms larger as it approaches the gate.

The gate! I'm struck with a thought as I look for a shimmer or some sign of the fence. It's not a gate. They shut down the whole fence for the few seconds it takes to let someone through. If I'm right. I can charge in a straight line and maybe get through before they see me.

The bus lands, and four people get out, followed by the Prolog driver. I see him point to the road, and as they start out, he touches something on his belt.

Now! I sprint in a straight line and don't stop until I hear the Prolog shout, his voice coming from behind me. I conclude I've made it past the barrier. I put my hands up and start walking in his direction. "I come with a message for Zeraf," I shout.

The prolog lowers the wand he drew when he saw me. "Who are you?" he asks, obviously surprised to hear me speak his language.

"I'm Maisewith Reems, and I have a proposition for your government."

"Do you know you risked your life coming out of the compound?"

"Yes. I know that. But I want to help. And I can. I have critical information for your planet's safety."

Yes, I'm bluffing, but not by much. If the Reems are still sending people here, they must still be trying to infiltrate Prologi for a takeover. If that continues to fail, will they launch an attack, an all-out war? These thoughts dart through my head as I plead with the bus driver.

"Please take me to Zeraf. I know her, and she knows me."

The Prolog male looks a bit frantic as he weighs his choices. Will he be in trouble if he allows me out of confinement and doesn't kill me? But what if I'm telling the truth. Will he be honored for taking me to the leaders and possibly saving the planet?

"Why don't you handcuff me?" I suggest. "That way you will know I'm not a threat, and so will the people you deliver me to."

He nods and takes one of the cuffs he's removed from the four prisoners he just sent down the road. We ride in silence to the city.

Zeraf looks astonished when she sees me standing in front of a work station where she stares at a wall of screens. She apparently pushes a button somewhere, though I don't see her do it. The screens disappear, and only a smooth, shiny, black wall is left. In my brief view of the many videos, I saw one showing activity inside the center's kitchen. Another captured the area and people in front of it. Great. Nice to know our lovely compound is constantly monitored by the enemy. I'm surprised she didn't see me coming.

"What are you doing here?" Zeraf's voice is low and accusing.

"I need your help, and I believe you need mine. I want to negotiate a proposal," I say.

"How do I need your help?"

"I see you keep close tabs on your prisoners," I say, waving at the wall. "But do you know what they're saying?"

"We prefer to call you 'guests,' but no, we don't monitor sound. The visual recorders are only there for the safety of our...visitors."

"I realize the reason for corralling your visitors is to protect your home planet from intruders with aims to take it over. You scan them for spying devices, impound or destroy their transport, and keep them from going back to implement an invasion. Am I right?"

"I've always known you are astute, Maisewith, but you haven't explained why we need your help."

"Because I know who is sending people from Costra, I mean Botek. You extract the spying devices implanted in them, but do you listen to what is recorded on them? Perhaps you need a translator. I'm proficient in many languages including yours. I can interrogate everyone in your compound. If you are going to protect your planet, you need an ally who knows your enemy's language."

"How do I know we can trust you?"

"I'm sure you have a way to monitor me, but if you knew me well, you'd know I won't betray you."

"And what is it that you want in return."

"I want you to save my Nana's life. She's dying."

The Prologi word I used for Nana actually means Grandmother Guardian. Close enough. "Identifying her disease may be useful to you, as well,"

"Come with me," she says. Looking at the male who brought me here and who stands guard behind me—as if I would suddenly bolt?—she says, "Unbind her. Then you may go."

She leads me down a hallway to a closed door. She speaks softly into a small device in the middle of it. It opens. Inside about a dozen Prologs sit around a table. They look up, and the male at the head of the table speaks. "Your matter of business must be of great importance, Commander, to interrupt this meeting."

"It is, Your Excellence. I've determined it is urgent and consequential that we hear this Boteki who managed to escape from Wongatrobix."

They all gape at me. Is it because of my strange alien appearance, or are they in awe of an unprecedented action? Maybe both.

"How did she escape?" the head guy demands.

"She can answer that herself," Zeraf says, "Maisewith, go ahead."

"I just ran out when the barrier was momentarily shut down to admit more prison...I mean guests."

The expressions on the faces of everyone goes from awe and disbelief to all out astonishment. Apparently, they've never heard a knob-face speak their language. I continue, "The reason I risked leaving is because of a dire emergency. One of us is dying of a very strange malady we don't know how to treat. I come seeking medical assistance and time is critical. She could have died by now, so please..." Tears fill my eyes, and my voice cracks.

Zeraf takes over and relates the proposition I made to her. "And, as she says, we may learn something important by examining the subject."

The leader asks me the symptoms, frowns, and shakes his head when I tell him. "Strange," he says. Then he asks his council members to vote. They all stand.

"So be it, Commander. Bring the subject to our surgical arena, and inform me when you arrive. But first, secure this Boteki."

Secure me? Are they going to lock me up and not let me go with them to get Nana?

I soon learn what they mean by secure. Zeraf takes me upstairs and inserts a small patch under my skin between my shoulder blades. "I have the controls," she explains. "If you attempt an escape or an attack, I will activate the patch, and you will die. The Council is not ready to trust anyone who has the courage to attempt an escape—and the intelligence to succeed."

Chapter 28

The airbus is amazingly fast, though not as sleek as the "silver bullet" I arrived in. As we approach, Zeraf sets the craft down softly so that it hovers just a meter or so above the road near the fence. "Why not land inside the compound? Then you wouldn't have to power down the fence for entry."

Zeraf turns to me with a frown. "You don't understand the technology of the barrier."

"I know I don't. That's why I asked." I'd love to go to school in Prologi and learn their technology.

"No need for you to know," she says, not adding what I bet she's thinking—that I already know too much.

She's looking beyond the fence, scanning the area. I wish she would hurry.

"Who else have you told about the barrier being deactivated when we enter?"

"No one. I just thought of it a moment before it opened. I guessed—and risked my life to prove whether I was right or wrong. Before that, I thought I'd have to get to the road in order to blast through, and there wouldn't be time, no matter how fast I ran."

She seems to wonder if I'm telling the truth.

"I won't tell anyone," I add.

"No. You won't. You'll remain in my presence and keep quiet." Her tone of voice indicates not just a threat, but a promise I don't doubt.

When convinced that no one is waiting to run out, she touches a spot on her belt, drives forward, and touches it again. I look back and see a glimmering wave in the air. It disappears instantly.

The soft lavender-tinged light gives me an indication of the time of day. The Jalsparians are coming down the road toward the center. We pass and turn down the path to Nana's hut. Orson follows. The craft raises slightly as we pass over shrubs and rocks along the edge of the path.

Aidi sits outside among the flowers, her eyes like saucers as she stares at the airbus. When I step out, she runs to me and hugs me tightly. "How's Nana?" I ask.

"No good. She won't wake up."

No! We're too late. I duck inside and feel for a pulse. I can't find one.

"Bring her out," Zeraf commands.

I pull her sleeping mat through the opening, and Zeraf leans over her.

"You made it." I spin around as Orson's voice sounds behind me.

"But not soon enough to save her," I say, tears spilling from my eyes.

"Zeraf's head snaps around as she straightens. "Enough! Translate and speak no more in any language but Prologi."

I tell her what Orson said and what I said back. She asks what Aidi said. I tell her and add. "This is my sister. I need to tell her what's going on. I promised Nana I would look after her."

"What's wrong with her," Zeraf asks, staring at Aidi.

"It's a genetic disorder, made worse by the surgical implant in her brain and its removal." I look at Zeraf, hoping for sympathy. "She just needs a little assistance and guidance. She relied on Nana."

"Here's her doctor," Orson says, backing away. "I'm going. I hope you'll come back."

I wave and wipe my fingers across my lips to let him know I can't talk to him. He nods his understanding.

"Translate!"

I do, and then say, "Dr. Rosen is a medical doctor from Botek. She tried to help Nana but couldn't determine what was wrong."

Zeraf nods in Dr. Rosen's direction.

"If you're leaving with your Nana, I'll look after Aidi so you needn't worry about her." Dr. Rosen puts her arms around Aidi's shoulders.

I translate to Zeraf and ask permission to tell them goodbye.

"Make it brief."

"Thank you, Doctor." I say before hugging my sister. "I have to go, but Dr. Rosen will be here for you. I love you."

"Bye," Aidi says simply.

"Bye." I kiss her cheek. I turn and begin translating to Zeraf, but she waves me off and says, "I got the gist of it. Now help me load the subject, bed and all, and get in."

Both Costrans and Jalsparians stare as we roll toward the "gate." No one attempts to follow.

Once in the air, Zeraf glances at me and asks why I'm crying.

"Because we were too late to save her," I say angrily. Shouldn't it be obvious, or are Prologs devoid of emotion?

"She's not dead," Zeraf says in a matter of fact tone. "She's in a deep coma."

Nana's still form, lying on the surgical table looks lifeless to me. At least she's not feeling the horrible pain she was in before. Several white-coated Prologs surround her bed as one with an instrument, the shape and size of a light stylus, steps up. In an instant, a slit opens in Nana's swollen abdomen, though the instrument doesn't touch her. The edges of the cut do not bleed. Is that because Nana really is dead, or is it how the cutting thing works?

Why did I never notice how large and tight Nana's belly had become? It seemed to have ballooned since the last time I saw her.

A hologram appears above her, showing her insides as the invisible beam of the Prolog's instrument progresses through layers of tissue.

"What's that?" Zeraf yelps.

At first, I think it's her bloated intestines, but no. It's in her stomach—or rather it's where her stomach should be—and it's huge and writhing. It's also eating, chewing away voraciously at what little is left of Nana's liver. A large pair of forceps grabs it and pulls it out through the incision. I look away from the hologram to gape at the fat, snake-like monster dangling and writhing from the forceps that a Prolog holds aloft. He drops it into a glass box and snaps the lid closed. The hideous creature is a gray, slime-covered, giant worm. It has no eyes, but a large maw with razor-sharp teeth.

I turn my attention to Nana just as a prolog is about to insert a needle into her neck. "Wait! Stop. What are you giving her?"

"She won't feel it, and it will relieve her of life. You can see she will soon die from irreparable damage. Her stomach, pancreas, and most of her liver are gone. Her heart still labors, but one lung is punctured. She will die soon. This will just make her journey to death painless."

I know he's right, but I can't help asking, "Can't you give her new organs?"

"We are good at replacing bones and cartilage, even muscle tissue, though it takes longer. Stomachs and other organs, we can repair, but we can't replace them without a compatible donor, and we have none."

I see she cannot be fixed. No one could repair the damage done by the monster worm. I hold her ice-cold hand and nod. As tears stream down my cheeks, a look of tranquility graces Nana's beautiful face. I think I see a faint smile cross her lips just before her heart stops.

Zeraf pulls me away from the table as an attendant wheels Nana away.

"You are to stay with me and assist in the analysis of devices we extracted from the aliens," she says. "Don't leave my sight. You don't want to forget that the patch on your back can be activated immediately."

"Commander, look at this." A holographic image dances in the air.

This is the same subject?" Zeraf asks.

"Yes. The initial scan taken on arrival."

Zeraf stares for a minute or two, then points to a fine wavy thread in Nana's stomach. "What is this?"

"The scan didn't highlight it, because it's set only to mark anything made of metal or certain polymers. This was mistaken for food, something she'd eaten."

"And over the course of how many moon times since she arrived did it grow to this?" Zeraf asks.

"She was admitted nine moon times ago. The bot was small and floating in acid; the scan did not detect it."

The technician turns on another image. "It's the scan we just took of the parasite." A dot of bright green light glows in the middle of the creature's stomach. "We'd like to perform an extraction."

"Proceed," Zeraf orders, "But first, exterminate the monster. And use extreme caution."

I look at the glass box. One eyeless end of the monster reveals multiple rows of teeth as its mouth opens and closes, lapping at the glass walls from one end to the other, rapidly.

Where in all the universe did the Reems find such a thing. Fury burns within me as the realization dawns that they didn't mind sacrificing Nana, putting her through hellish pain in order to sneak a surveillance bot of some kind into a land they want to seize. Or is the tiny chip even more sinister than that?

Chapter 29

"Is this the disk from the worm?" I ask as I sit next to Zeraf in a small room with surround sound.

"No, this is from one of our most recent visitors. We have to build a new port for that disk, as it's smaller. "She inserts a small, round disc in a slot in the wall, and says, "We'll listen to this recent arrival while the medics remove the spying device from the parasite.

I hear a familiar voice, saying, "You'll love it there. I hope you get a chance to visit all the sites on the map. I look forward to hearing all about it."

Much louder, a feminine voice says. "Thank you, I'm so excited."

The first voice is Jadith's saying, "This way."

I translate.

"Is that all?" Zeraf asks as we hear only shuffling sounds and conversations too far off to be understood.

But another voice comes on before I can answer. "I'm a little upset. I didn't know the medical exam required for space travel included anesthesia. Why did they put us under?"

"Did they?" asks the louder female voice. "I wasn't sure. I was lying on a table one minute and just like that..." the pop of a finger snap fills the room and the voice continues, "Dr. Johnson was leaning over me, telling me I was in great health and that I passed the test with flying colors. I thought maybe I'd fallen asleep for a minute."

Zeraf shuts off the recording while I translate. When it's back on, the first, more distant woman says, "I've had a few surgeries in my lifetime, and this felt similar. They said they were taking a blood sample and suddenly the room spins and I feel woozy. It's a reaction I always have to anesthesia."

"It must be part of making sure we are in good enough health to endure space travel. But I don't know why they didn't just explain the procedure and its purpose."

I translate while the only sound coming from the tiny device in the wall is the low hum of engines. Then a fourth voice comes on. It's familiar too, but it takes me a second to place it. "Sit back ladies and gentlemen. We'll be in transit for 29 Costran days, but you'll be sleeping most of it. I'll make sure you're awake before we land on the beautiful X-1. This will be a treat not many get to enjoy. You've all seen the satellite pictures and know how beautiful the planet is. Lots of trees, rivers, and grassland. There are five major cities and a few of what look like small villages. We'll land near the largest city. They tell us the natives are friendly. So, let's go."

It's the voice of the shuttle-service owner that I met just before I escaped the compound. After translating, I ask Zeraf for background information. She opens a drawer full of small containers labeled with dates and numbers.

"This chip was extracted from one of the five most recent arrivals. It's been analyzed and seems to be only a recorder. No transmitter. No on-off controls like some we've seen. All four passengers had one just like it. The pilot did not."

"Yet you confined him and impounded his craft," I accuse.

"We expected, as you heard, that he is in the business of transporting people to Prologi. We don't want that," Zeraf explains.

"Not even innocent visitors like those we just heard only looking for a pleasant vacation?"

"We don't want spies." Zeraf's voice is angry. "Whoever implanted these devises must have motives that do not bode well for our future. We'll know when we listen to more."

I ask, "What do you think their motives are?"

"We have reason to believe that the people of Botek are planning an invasion."

"Maybe they just want to join you. Seems like you have a lot of unoccupied space here."

Zeraf emits a loud bark, something between a bitter laugh and an angry spit. "The people of Botek are destroyers. They use up resources and leave a path of destruction. No planning. If they came here, our planet would be unlivable within a hundred generations, just like other worlds they've invaded. And they don't share; they conquer. Their first objective would be to eradicate all Prologs. We'll do whatever it takes to keep them away. We'll keep the spies from returning with information that will be used to hasten their attempt to conquer Prologi."

"So why don't you just kill every alien that comes here instead of incarcerating us?"

"We don't work the same as your Boteki tyrants. We don't kill without cause or necessity. Nor do we judge individuals by the whole. We know enough about nature to understand that each one is unique. Even beranodes. Once we know the motives of each one, as well as we can by observing them, we'll decide what's to be done with them."

Zeraf waves her hand at the devices in the drawer and adds. "You'll help us find out what we need to know with your translation. As long as you're helping, you need not fear us."

So, I think. By translating for them, I'm hastening the prisoners' fate. Which could include death—if the Prologs determined somehow, that there was "cause."

"So, you've already determined the motives of those you've taken from Wongatrobix?"

"No, but we knew their work habits. When we have need of laborers, we pick those suitable for the job."

"And you trust them to do as you wish? Without knowing the language?"

"It's easy enough to show them, Maisewith. And they are secured."

Her words hit me like a shock wave. Secured? Like I am? "What..." I begin, but the pilot's voice suddenly fills the room, making me jump. I forgot the disk was still running, evidently on fast forward.

"Everyone awake?" the pilot's voice booms. "Behold the crown jewel of our wonderful bi-solar system, the amazing X-1. I think it should be renamed Paradise!"

We hear murmuring, oohing and ahhing, and "Wow, gorgeous. It looks like a fairyland. I just might want to stay."

Then the pilot's voice exclaims, "And look. We seem to have a welcoming party. Hey. What are they doing? They have us hemmed in. My God, look at those ships. I want to get one of them!"

"Are they attacking us?" asks one of the women.

"I don't think so. But they have control of my ship," the man says. "I was told they are friendly, so I guess they're just making sure we land safely."

I translate while the recorder plays only background engine sounds.

Then I hear Prolog voices. Of course, the pilot can't understand. He says, "What? Get your hands off me. Where are you...?" and his voice fades as he's apparently moved away from the woman whose microchip we are listening to.

She says, "Oh, my lord. Don't touch me. What are you doing? Edith, Help! What kind of monsters are these?"

I hear a scream coming from the other woman and swear words from two men who've kept silent until now. "Quiet!" a Prolog shouts.

Either the woman gets the message and complies or she is no longer able to speak.

Zeraf turns off the players and ejects the disk, returning it to its container.

"You will listen to every one of these and tell me or my assistant what they say," she says. "I have other work to do right now, so I'll take you to your chamber. I'll come get you when we are ready to resume."

"Will I get to see the disc you took from my sister's head? The girl who was with Nana?"

"Not a disc. It was an intricate web, a computer programed with extensive information, vocabulary, and remote controls, wired to many parts of the brain. It was a digital brain overriding her simple one, controlling her body, memory, and speech. She was a human robot."

"Oh," I say. I wonder if that is what they tried with me and Ithwaic. And with Huitcrai? But nothing like that showed up on our scans. All I say is, "No wonder Aidi changed so drastically when you removed it."

I follow Zeraf to a room that is almost identical to the one they locked me in after rescuing me in the under-mountain mine on the moon. The only difference is a table and chair and a window that is higher than my head so that all I can see is a sky view with an occasional passing airbus.

Great, I'm back in solitary. Only this time, I have a remotely controlled explosive in my back.

This bed is more comfortable than any I've ever slept in. I have control of the light, I have food and water. Zeraf has seen to all of that. But as I lie here, tired, bored, and lonely with nothing to do but think, I only wish I were in Orson's treetop bed. I wonder if he's thinking of me right now. I wonder if I'll ever see him again. It doesn't seem likely. I extinguish the light and cry quietly until sleep finally comes.

A Prolog female I've never seen before stands over me with a tray of food.

"Oh. Thank you. I guess I overslept. Sorry."

Without a word, she carries the food to the table. Just before going out the door, she turns to me and says, "You are expected to be ready to work shortly. My name is Fritalan, and I will be working with you today."

"Okay," I say. "I'm Maisewith."

"I know. I'll be back for you soon." And with that she is gone.

I savor the baked vegetable, something like a potato, some kind of roasted meat, and fresh fruit. I don't know what it is, but it's sweet and juicy. When I finish, I wash and put on the clean jumpsuit Zeraf left for me. At least it's a different color. Green instead of the dirty gray color that is the only choice in the compound.

The door opens to Fritalan just as I'm stepping into the shoes provided. They are soft and comfortable. I follow her back to the same small sound chamber where I worked with Zeraf yesterday.

"Everything we say will be recorded and sent to Zeraf's monitor," Fritalan tells me. "She also asked me to let you know that your patch can be activated from her office. Just so you know."

"Great, Fritalan," I say, icily. "Thanks for making me feel at ease."

She gives me a quizzical look that makes me think Prologs don't get sarcasm.

"So, where do we start?" I ask.

She pulls a canister from her pocket."This," she says, "came from the parasitic larva extracted from the woman who died."

Nana. My heart nearly breaks as I think of her and her painful end of life. As tears fill my eyes, Fritalan asks, "What's wrong?"

"You wouldn't understand," I say. "Go ahead. And don't mind if I cry. I need to know how this happened to my dear Nana."

Chapter 30

I'm half numb with dread and grief as Fritalan gears up the player and turns up the sound. A male voice I don't recognize swears and says, "This? It's bigger than the girth of the toxocarian anophthali hirudinea. If you want a parasite big enough for this, I can give you one that's not nearly microscopic, like a common pin or tapeworm."

"The chip is flexible. Curve it around the girth of the TAH, just beneath the skin," Jadith Reems says, her voice impatient. "You can do it."

"May I ask why you want this inserted in this particular parasite?"

"Ask all you want. I'll tell you it's a government experiment, very highly classified. That's why you signed the paper pledging not to tell anyone and to destroy the images when you're done."

It is silent for several minutes, with only an occasional word or two from Jadith. "Be careful. Don't kill the parasite."

"Kill a TAH? Not possible. Cut it in two, and you'll have two parasites."

After about two more minutes of no sound but the faint sound of breathing, the man says, "There you go. It's in there. Anytime you need microscopic surgery or advice on little creepy crawly things, you know where to come."

"Good work, Ed. Fascinating to watch on your monitor. You're very adept. Send your bill to Johnson and Reems."

"Not the government?"

"Our lab is a vital arm of the government defense department. Don't worry. You'll be paid."

"I put the specimen in a fluid that is 2.0 pH. It won't survive outside of anything over 3.5 for more than a couple weeks."

"And during those two weeks?" Jadith asks.

"They lay eggs. Lots of eggs. The eggs are dormant until ingested by an animal or human where they attach to the stomach lining until they hatch. Then they grow by eating everything their host ingests as well as other parasites that have hatched. Only one of the parasites will live to grow and finally, when what the host eats is not enough, it consumes the host itself, until they eat their way out of the body, and lay more eggs."

"Perfect, Thank you, Ed. If this is successful, we'll have you do more." Jadith's voice is clear.

"Better make sure I'm paid, then." Ed, whoever he is, sounds farther away now.

"Oh, you will be. Generously, as agreed."

I hear the familiar click of Jadith's ridiculously high heels on tile floor. I remember them well, for she could snatch them off her foot quickly and use them as a weapon, or more often, a threat to uncooperative children.

We hear nothing more for a long time while I translate.

Suddenly, Nana's voice fills the room. "What's this?" she asks.

"A glass of fine white wine, your favorite. We should celebrate your exciting voyage. Besides that, it will help you relax as you embark on your very first space adventure." It's Jadith again.

"Thanks. I admit I've been getting the jitters." Nana's voice is like a knife to my heart. I want to yell. "Don't take it, Nana. Don't trust her," but of course I know she does. I know the consequences of that decision all too well.

Then Aidi's voice comes on, but it's barely recognizable and I question whether it's her. The voice is hers but not the words it carries. "Not I," she says. "I'm very much looking forward to the exploration. Especially meeting with X-1 natives and negotiating with their government. I expect to open trade talks that will give us access to their wealth of ..."

Jadith interrupts. "Yes, yes, Aidlidah. You know your job, but you needn't rehearse it now."

"Milana," — It's been so long since I've heard my nanny's given name, I'd forgotten what it was. — "As Aidi's escort, you only need to stay with her and keep quiet unless spoken to. Aidlidah will explain who you are. If asked, just be your gentle, polite self and help her win over the natives," Jadith instructs. "If she seems to stumble over her words, or seem addled, make an excuse to get her away. Indicate that she is ill and needs to lie down. I think you can do that."

Next, we hear a choking sound. Then Nana says, "Oh, dear. Excuse me. I think I swallowed a hair. It must have been in the wine."

"Are you all right?" Jadith asks.

"Yes. It went on down. I don't think it's caught in my throat anymore, but maybe another swallow..."

"I don't see how there could possibly be a hair in the wine." Jadith continues in a condescending voice that is quickly fading, "It probably fell out of your own head. You need..."

Now, all we hear are gurgling sounds of an active stomach. Fritalan fast forwards until faint voices are heard over the stomach sounds that have been growing fainter. I hear Nana's voice, later, my own voice, Aidi's, Dr. Rosen's, and, though fainter, Orson's. Later, Zeraf's voice and those of the medical team and others, which of course I don't need to translate, come through loud and clear.

When, at last, Fritalan turns it off and puts the disk back in its container, I growl, "I will kill Jadith Reems if it's the last thing I do. But first I will torture her. I will torture her to death like she did Nana."

Fritalan gives me a sympathetic look, but says, "That's all for today," and leads me back to my room.

Fritalan and I both know I will never get the chance to see Jadith, let alone kill her. But somehow, I must. I can't let her keep on using people and then throwing them away like dirty diapers. How many more people has she planted the parasite into? I've got to talk to Zeraf about that. We've got to keep an eye out for any more people getting sick, showing the same symptoms as Nana did and catch it earlier.

For the next several days, Fritalan escorts me to and from my cell to sit in the recording room, listening and translating spy chips. My only hope is to persuade Zeraf to help me, yet she's "too busy" to talk to me.

A case against Jadith and Jedd and their partners, the Johnsons, mounts with each chip I translate, proving that everyone locked away in the compound had no idea they were being used.

"What about the Jalsparians?" I ask at the end of a session. "Do you have chips from them?"

"Who?"

"The hairy ones that live in the trees at the far end of the compound."

"Oh. They come from Demtoli, our sister planet. Another society barely alive due to their own fault for wasting their resources," Fritalan scoffs. "No, they scanned clean. We only have the communication system from their space ship."

"Do you want me to listen to it?" I offer.

"What use? It's not in your language or ours."

"I know theirs. I talk to them as easily as I talk to you."

She looks skeptical and says, "I don't know how you know all the languages."

"It's what I do. I have a natural talent for learning languages quickly. But anyone can learn. I'm surprised Zeraf and others in your government don't."

"It goes against regulations to keep our home planet pure, keeping it ours, and letting no aliens invade us. If we keep aliens out, we don't have any use for their talk."

"It would be useful now, though, wouldn't it?"

"Yes, in school we learned of other worlds. The government monitors Demtoli and Botek, and in one class we listened to recordings of strange-sounding words, but as far as I know, no one has tried to decipher their meanings. No need when we don't accept any aliens into our society."

When Zeraf, herself, finally leads me to the sound room, I say, "If you've listened to the translations I gave Fritalan, you know that the prisoners in Wongatrobix had no idea they were being used. They're all innocent of everything except falling into Jadith's trap by believing her ads."

Zeraf doesn't answer as she inserts a bulky—by comparison—communications device into a machine that wasn't here before.

Before she turns it on, I say, "Everyone in Wongatrobix should know what's going on. Surely you realize by now that they are innocent. If they knew what the Botekis have done and how they've been used, you'd have allies in fighting them. We could form a small army and go to Costra to take out those who want to invade Prologi."

"Patience, Maisewith. We need to gather more intelligence."

"How?"

Before she can answer, the sound comes on, and I hear Jalsparians speaking. At first, there are only orders and responses between the flight crew and ground control. They apparently turned it off after they launched into space. "Probably to save power," Zeraf says. "Their system and their craft are rather primitive."

"Unlike yours," I say sweeping my arm to include the whole sound room we are in. "This is amazing. As usual, with everything Prologi, it's all very advanced."

"This room and everything in it is new. We made it to accommodate the discs removed from guests. We quit using this type of recording devises years ago. This system was finished, recently. That's the reason we haven't listened to these spying devices before," Zeraf explains. "The machine for the Demtoli device was just installed today, after taking it from their ship."

Rakar's voice interrupts our discussion. "We are approaching Falstar's atmosphere and have activated our heat shields."

The response coming from Jalspar is too raspy and covered in static to understand.

Then we hear Orson's voice and my heart skips a beat. "Looks like they're sending an escort."

"Or a missile launcher to take us out." Matik sounds terrified.

The response from Jalspar is completely unintelligible.

"Yes sir. We know what to tell them," says a voice I think is Rajek's. "We just hope we get a chance and that they understand our sign language."

"Wow. Amazing landscape, and their city is a work of art."

Orson is interrupted by the pilot's calm, feminine voice. "They've taken control of the ship."

After a pause, Matik exclaims, "Okay. We're on the ground, and they're boarding! Big scaly creatures. Ow!"

Only silence follows. "That's the end?"

"Yes. Our police shut it off."

I frown. "What do you think their government thought of that last transmission? You may have prompted an invasion where there wasn't a need for one."

Zeraf scowls at me and ignores my question. "We are at the end of our spy discs. You've done your job well."

She doesn't have to add, "Mind your own business and respect my authority."

I panic, remembering the patch on my back. But she continues, "I'm going to arrange a meeting with the Supreme Emperor. I'll want you with me."

With that, she takes me to my room and locks me in to wonder what comes next. Is she so offended that they aren't going to feed me?

Chapter 31

It's been a long day with only a light lunch break, the Prologi version of a taco, and I'm hungry, but not as much as I'm angry. I've provided a useful and important service. I don't deserve to be locked up and starved. I drink a lot of water, which does not satisfy my cramping stomach for long. I pace while I rage at the injustice, but finally lie down, only because there is nothing else to do.

I think of Orson and wish I were in Wongatrobix with him. If I ever get back, I will escape only if he can escape with me. Fat chance. If we could escape, where would we go? I'm thinking like a lovesick teenager. Dumb! Of course, I am a teenager, and let's face it, I have crazy feelings for Orson, feelings that are powerful and unlike any I've had for anyone else—feelings that make me stupid. I decide it's best to ignore them.

It's not likely I'll ever see him or anyone in Wongatrobix again. Tears fill my eyes and I turn off the light, only to have it come back on minutes later.

Teranik enters with a tray. "Zeraf sends apologies. She was so involved in arranging a hearing with council that she forgot to order your meal."

I look at the heaped plate and breathe in the delicious aroma. "Looks like she ordered extra to make up for it," I say, as I sit and pick up the fork.

"She also sent a message," Teranik adds. "On the fourteenth of Dem, at midtacht, you are to accompany her to a meeting with High Council."

I've not yet learned the names of their months, nor do I know how long they are, so I ask, "When is that? How many days from now?"

"This is tacht 18 of Rom, so in twenty-one red-sun days is your meeting."

"Twenty-one! What will I do in the meantime?"

"Stay here, I suppose. And we won't forget to feed you three meals a day," Teranik assures me with a smile.

"I'd rather go back to Wongatrobix."

"I suppose you would, but that isn't my decision to make, as you know." Teranik puts a hand on my shoulder in a show of sympathy.

"Then please tell Zeraf I need to speak to her as soon as possible." I hope my tone of voice convinces Teranik of the urgency I feel.

"I will convey the message," she promises. "I must go now. Enjoy your meal."

I sleep well after thoroughly satisfying my hunger, and I dream. I dream of Atheron, of all people.

It's dark in Laeperia and Atheron's stumbling through the garden calling my name. "Come back, Maisewith. Come back. There will be no light until we unite. You've stolen our light. Come back."

I look for Ithwaic and Huitcrai but see no one. Suddenly I'm there, but I'm hiding from Atheron. I go into Galso's chamber to ask him to turn on the light as if he controls it. Galso appears twice the size he was, but he's made of stone. His petrified hand holds a lever that extends from the back wall. Muleen looks at me with tears in her eyes. "He's been like this since you left," she says. "He won't pull the switch until you are ready to couple. Then the light will turn on so all can rejoice."

Then two hundred people chant, "Maisewith, Maisewith, Maisewith."

I wake up to a real voice repeating my name. It's Teranik. "Maisewith, wake up. Zeraf will see you now if you hurry."

"What time is it?" I ask as we hurry down the corridor to the dining room.

"Zeraf is taking an early breakfast as she has to go off planet to inspect progress on the mine." Teranik warns, "She'll be in a hurry."

"Zeraf," I begin, when she motions me to the chair across from her. "Thank you for seeing me. I want to go back to Wongatrobix until time for the meeting."

She frowns, but I press on. "I am of no use to you locked up in solitary for twenty-one days. If you give me permission to go back, I can interview the detainees and gain intelligence for you that we can present to the council. I may be able to learn more about the Boteki plans and why they keep sending spy bots to Prologi."

"I'll give it some thought," Zeraf says, "But you will be confined while I'm away."

"I understand your fear that I'll escape. I won't. I promise."

Zeraf laughs. "Foolish word, promise. Whether made in good faith or not, a promise is rarely kept. If I cannot control an outcome, I don't assume it will function the way I wish."

"But you can! You have the control to a patch on my back. Do you think I'll do anything you don't tell me to do?"

"I have things to do off planet that don't include monitoring your words and actions. You'll have to wait until I return," Zeraf says, as she places her spoon in her bowl, and scoots her chair back.

"Then take me with you," I beg. "You can keep an eye on me, and we can discuss the things we've heard."

She slowly nods as she stands and says, "You'll have to forgo breakfast, but you can snack on the transport. We leave now."

Zeraf seems more relaxed during the trip to Probius-2 than I've ever seen her. As I sit and nibble on wafers and fresh fruit, she sits nearby and engages me in conversation. That's good, because I want to convince her to let me go to the prison park until time to meet with the leaders. "I'll surely find someone who knows more about what is going on in Botek, politically," I argue. "Then it will be easier to convince the council to let me go to Botek and confront..."

"Wait, my dear. Do you think that is the purpose of the meeting?"

"If it isn't, it should be. It won't take them long to expend Botek's resources. We already have evidence that the Boteki leaders, or at least a branch of the government is trying to gain access and information for some reason. I believe it's because they want to colonize this planet. It won't take them long to expend Botek's resources. They want to branch out to another planet. It's what they do, right? What we need to know is how and when they plan to do it, so Prologi can prepare to protect..."

"And you think you can find that information and bring it back?" Zeraf sounds incredulous.

"Yes. Or die trying. And if possible, I can transmit the information back as I get it, in case they kill me."

"A lot to think about," she says, as if she'll consider it. It gives me a bit of hope.

After a pause, she continues, "We'll be at the mining site for four or five days. You'll be confined to the same room you were in before, except when you are with me. My job is mostly administrative and you might find it boring.

"Not as boring as the alternative," I say.

"You're sad," Zeraf says, accurately reading my mind.

"Have you ever been imprisoned. Locked away in solitary with nothing to do. Not exactly a happy prospect."

"I can let you assist me in some of my chores. Will that be better?"

"Of course. Anything I can do is better than doing nothing."

Zeraf looks at me intently and changes the subject. "You came from somewhere inside our moon. Did you entertain ideas of going back there?"

"Sneak away from you with an explosive patch on my back?" I ask. "Hardly. Besides, I'd never want to live there again. It's a life sentence of confinement with laws I can't agree with and two hundred boring people, pretending to be contented and happy. I miss some of them and often wish I could see them, just to find out if they are okay." I quickly add, "but not enough to face execution on my return, which is what I'd get at some point, I'm sure."

"Tell me what it's like," Zeraf says.

Her intensity as she leans closer, sends a chill through me. What can I tell her without betraying the Laeperians to a possible enemy?

"Not much to tell," I say. "It's just a big cave."

"Describe it."

"Well, it has three chambers connected by large arched portals, some bigger than others. Two of the chambers have a solid rock floor, but the largest one has enough soil to grow food crops."

"And water?" Zeraf asks.

"There is a river that apparently comes from a hot springs under ground somewhere. It's nice for bathing. There are two smaller, colder ones, used for irrigation and drinking water."

"What is the power source?" she asks.

"What do you mean?" I ask, stalling.

Zeraf gives me an impatient frown. "Lights, Maisewith. Heat."

"Um, it's warm enough. Probably because of the hot springs. The floors seem warm."

"And light? They must have light; how is it powered?"

I shrug. "I guess I never asked."

"Don't give me that, Maisewith. I happen to know you are neither unintelligent nor incurious."

I sigh. "It's natural lighting."

"There is an opening for the sun to come in?"

"No. Well, there's one small vent, up high."

"But?"

"The rocks in the ceiling sort of glow. It seems they have some natural luminescence."

"Interesting," she says. "I'd like to see it."

"Um, not easy to get to from here. It's at least a ten-day trip, walking, and we'd have to go through the part that's filled with poisonous gas, if we could even get to it. I don't know how to find the path I came on."

"Isn't there another entrance?"

"Well, it's blocked to keep out the cold."

"I imagine we can open it, don't you?"

"I don't know. We'd be out in the freezing..."

"Maisewith. We have protection for brief exposure to the moon's elements."

I open my mouth to protest, but she just pats my hand and says, "When we finish the mine inspection, we'll take the transport to that side of the moon. You'll direct us to the entrance and help dismantle it." Her smile looks malicious to me as she adds, "Cheer up. You'll get to see your friends."

Chapter 32

When we land at the mine entrance, I see they have extended the short entryway by adding a telescoping tube to attach to the door of the transport, allowing us to walk inside without any exposure to the moon's frigid air. Inside, everything is fresh and orderly, the walls and roof shored up with white beams and supporting pillars. Inidiclost? Probably.

"We've refined our mining operation, and before we put it in motion, I will carefully inspect it for safety and efficiency," Zeraf says.

She's busy on the first day, going over paperwork from which I'm excluded. I'm locked again in a windowless room. The next day, Zeraf introduces me to Mobus, the design engineer and head of mining operations. He leads us to the elevator to take us down to the lowest level corridor. As we walk to the end, I can see where the cave-in occurred. They have done nothing to remove the mountain of debris that extends from floor to ceiling. Instead, they've opened new shafts perpendicular to it. I'm sad for those who were buried or died behind it because they couldn't get out. Doesn't Zeraf have a heart at all, or does her boss make such decisions?

I follow Mobus and Zeraf, trying to focus on the technical details he's giving her, but my mind is awhirl as I think of the prospect of Zeraf visiting the crystal cave of the Laeperians. I hate to think of what she will do to them if she wants what they have, and I suspect she will. If she doesn't care enough about trapped Prologs, she will not make an effort to save the lives of two hundred descendants of Jalsparians and two humans. I've got to find a way to keep her from it. My heart sinks as I realize that's impossible for many reasons, the main one being that Zeraf controls me. I want to protect them, but not enough to get myself blown up. Doing so would only delay the inevitable. Zeraf might not find a way to get in if I decided to sacrifice myself, not right away, but she wouldn't give up until she did.

The shaft we follow turns and then opens into a large chamber full of machinery, work stations, and exhaust vents. I recognize Nolek among the workers.

"Nolek," I shout, both relieved and surprised to see her. "You're still alive. I was afraid you'd died in the cave-in."

"No, we were rescued before our air ran out. It was close, but we could hear the drill and never gave up hope. Now we have what is likely the safest mining operation in the universe.

Okay. So I was wrong about Zeraf leaving them to die. Still, who knows what she'll do to get possession of the crystal cave. I can't imagine it will be good.

"All workers gather around. Commander Zeraf has a few words." Mobus announces.

"My dear and faithful friends and loyal workforce. Some of you are here for the first time, others have labored here for years and endured many hardships including the accident that led us to perfecting this operation. All of you are important, vital to the health and welfare of the planet we call home. You can be proud, for you furnish the life blood of Prologi. The inidiclost that you extract makes it the strongest, richest, most durable, and coveted place in the galaxy." Baring her pointy teeth, she sweeps the crowd with smiling eyes and continues.

"From the drillers and diggers, extractors, counters, and assayers, to the support staff that keeps the miners fed, clothed, and in health, you all are a necessary part of the team. Thank you for making Probius-2 your home and this precious metal your passion. Follow the expert guidance of Mobus. Bring any questions or concerns to him at any time. Do you have any questions for either of us before we begin?"

When none comes, she says, "Mobus will now turn on the drills. Go to your work stations and prepare to begin."

As Zeraf ends her speech, the workers shout in unison, "Hail, Commander," give a one-finger salute that begins at their forehead and sweeps upward and out, take one step back, about face, and march to their work stations. Stopping at a table, they each pick up a helmet, a full-face mask with a clear window to see through, and fasten on a filter that covers their nares. There is no dust yet, but they know there will be and are prepared. I know from experience how deadly it can be.

"My work is done here," Zeraf says, taking me by the arm. "Time to board the transport."

I nod and let her guide me to the entrance and through the airlock into the spacecraft. I hope she'll forget about Laeperia, but that hope is dashed, immediately.

"Come to the viewer, Maisewith," she orders. "Show us where the entrance to your former home is."

"I won't recognize it. I never saw it in daylight from the outside."

"Pay attention. You must have an idea of its location." She gives me a look that I take as a warning, and adds, "We have time to explore."

I shouldn't have come, I berate myself. If I'd stayed in my Prologi cell, this wouldn't be happening.

I'm looking down on a long mountain range that rises up from a flat plain of snow and ice. I see a line where the light from the red sun fades into darkness, lit only by the reflected green light of the planet Prologi. The mountain finally slopes off to the plain. One side is a sheer cliff of glassy rock. The transport dips and flies low and slow around the end of the mountain.

"I can't tell. It all looks the same. The entrance is filled in to keep the cold out, so it probably looks just like the rest of the mountain," I protest.

"Then show us where you entered," Zeraf says.

"It was somewhere along that cliff," I say. "But I don't think we'll be able to find it. I fell into a narrow crevasse. And even if we could find it, we don't want to go that way. We'd have to pass through the chamber with poison gas. And then it's a long way to walk through a maze of corridors to the where the Laeperians live."

"But you made it." Zeraf points out.

"I wouldn't have without my mask, goggles and thick clothing. To go into the gas chamber without them would be suicide.

The transport turns and creeps along the sloping end of the mountain to the other side and then circles back.

"What's that?" Zeraf shouts. "Look. A beam of light."

And there it is. The hole gradually growing larger, showing us the entrance. They heard the spacecraft.

"Get as close as you can, and we'll make a dash for it," Zeraf says with all the excitement of a child on the threshold of a great adventure. She pulls two coats with hoods from a closet and hands one to me, as the transport lowers and settles.

"Hold your breath until we get there," she says as she enters the airlock. When the outer door opens, she grabs my hand and jumps out. We scramble up a small slope to the opening, reach for hands that extended to pull us inside, with me in the lead and Zeraf pushing until she is pulled in, too.

Galing and two other men quickly close the opening.

Ithwaic shouts, "Maisewith, we thought you were dead," and wraps me in a tight hug.

I whisper in his ear in Laeperian, "I'm her prisoner. I didn't want to bring her here."

"What?" Ithwaic whispers back.

But Zeraf grasps my arm and pulls me close to her. "Introduce me, Maisewith. And translate everything you say and their replies. Exactly and in full."

Ithwaic's frowns as he releases me and steps back.

"Friends," I say, "This is Zeraf, a commander from the green planet, Falstar. They call it Prologi." Then I tell her exactly what I said.

Galso steps forward. "Welcome, Zeraf, to Laeperia. Will you join us for our daily meal?"

I translate and then repeat Zeraf's reply to him. "That is kind, but we have only a short time to spare. May I have a tour of your lovely home?"

Galso frowns, and I know he's angry at the insult. But he concedes, "A quick one, then. Maisewith can show you while my people eat."

Ithwaic asks Galso, "May I go with them?"

Galso nods.

Tyla says, "I will go, too."

Galso shrugs and walks away, still scowling.

I stare at Tyla's protruding belly. "You're pregnant!" I exclaim.

She smiles and pats her baby bump. "Yes. Ithwaic and I sleep in the private room now."

"Translate," Zeraf orders.

I do and explain. "It's part of their population control. Tyla and Ithwaic have been allowed to mate."

Zeraf gazes at the ceiling as she says, "Let's get on with it. We can't leave the transport sitting too long in this environment."

I take her through this chamber, explaining that the rooms aligned along the sides are sleeping chambers. She doesn't ask to see them, but pays close attention to the lighted crystals in the ceiling and walls and the smooth glassy floors. We go through the auditorium, kitchen, and eating area where steaming pots on the table release good smells. Laeperians are lined up on both sides filling plates.

Huitcrai sees me, drops her plate, and runs to embrace me. "Maisey, you've returned." Tears gush from her eyes and she hugs me. I see that Zeraf is closely comparing the various colors of crystal in the walls, so I whisper to Huitcrai the same thing I told Ithwaic.

"Show me the waterway," Zeraf demands.

I lead her back to the farthest chamber to show her where the spring bubbles out of the ground and fills a small river, and where it is divided to flow into the troughs that furnish each bedroom and the kitchen area. She dips her hand in to taste it. "Nice," she says.

Then I show her the spring they tap to irrigate the garden. She is less interested in the plants, but scoops up a handful of earth and drops it into her pocket. I notice that the pocket gleams. She's taken some crystals as well.

Will Galso challenge that?

"We must be on our way, Maisewith, but first get everyone's attention. I want to make an announcement."

"Okay," I say and translate to Ithwaic, Tyla, and Huitcrai.

Ithwaic goes to inform Galso, and Huitcrai begs, "Please stay, Maisey. Please don't leave again."

Of course Zeraf has to know what she said, so I translate.

Zeraf says, "You'll return to Prologi with me."

She's giving me no choice in the matter which makes me mad, but she should know I would not have stayed if she had let me. My number-one aim in life is to get to Costra and confront Jadith.

We walk back to the eating area. Galso meets me and says he'll call a meeting when everyone finishes their meal."

Of course, Zeraf will have none of that.

"No time," she says. "Listen to me now," and tells me what to say.

"Listen, everyone," I say, raising my voice. "Zeraf says she has room for six people on the transport." I hold up three fingers on each hand, as she did—the best way when all you have is three fingers and a thumb on each hand. "Line up quickly. We depart now."

"Maisewith can choose the travelers," Zeraf adds, apparently expecting a bigger response than she gets.

I take a chance. I figure that Zeraf knows a lot more English than she lets on, but probably not much, if any, of the Laeperian language. So I tell them, "Zeraf will let me choose which six of you can come with us to the beautiful prison on Prologi, the verdant planet you call Falstar."

"What exactly did you say," she demands to know.

"I told them you would let me choose which six could come with us to the beautiful, verdant planet, Prologi, the one they call Falstar."

She nods, seemingly satisfied, but frowns when only three come forward. I frown, too, surprised that any would want to. And I wonder why she is offering to take any to her pure Prologi. Does she plan to use them for lab specimens for some self-serving purpose?

The three are Huitcrai, Galing, and Atheron.

"Only three?" Zeraf asks. "What else did you tell them?"

"Zeraf. Please understand. This is the only home they've ever known. They are comfortable here."

"Okay. Let's go then. Who will clear the opening?"

I translate, and Ithwaic, Galing, and Atheron scramble up the hill. When it's large enough, Zeraf touches a spot on her belt and tells the pilot to open the first door of the airlock to admit us. At Zeraf's nod, I instruct, Huitcrai, Galing, and Atheron to run for it and to hold their breath until they get there. It's just a meter and a half down the slope.

I start to follow, but am violently jerked back. Zeraf's grip on my arm is painful. I turn to see two Laeperians holding her arms—and that even in their grip, her hand hovers over her belt.

"Tell them to unhand me, Maisewith." The toothy grimace on her face looks nothing like a smile, but a snarl that makes it clear to me she won't hesitate to ignite the explosives on my back.

"Stop," I shout. "She has explosives lodged in my back. She'll kill me if you don't let her go."

They look at Galso.

"Now!" she says.

"Now! Please!" I beg in Laeperian.

Galso nods, and the men let go and step back.

She gives Galso that really scary, wide-mouthed grin that exposes her shark-like teeth

"Go, Maisewith," Zeraf says, still holding tightly to my arms and giving me one hard shake, "But first, tell them, 'I will return.'"

Chapter 33

Once in the transport and zipping toward Prologi, everyone sits in awed—or frightened—silence. After Zeraf gives instruction to the ship's pilot, she turns to me.

"I don't like what happened back there. There was no need for an altercation like that," Zeraf scolds. "What did you tell them that made them decide to attack me?"

"I told them what you told me to tell them," I retort.

"And what more did you throw in, thinking I wouldn't notice?"

"Don't you think that having your pockets lit up with stolen crystals might have precipitated a decision to detain you?"

I love the look of surprise on Zeraf's face as she realizes that what I say makes sense. Sure, I'm omitting some of the truth, but I'm not under any weird Laeperian law. I'm guided by common sense and a strong instinct for survival.

"Go to the cell you were in before. I'll take your friends to theirs." She motions them to follow her. I step into the first glass-fronted compartment on the left, sit in the recliner, and wait.

When Zeraf returns, she locks my door and moves away without speaking. I sigh. I've always known she was the enemy from the time she started locking me in the room at the mine on Probius-2. But sometimes I forget as we converse amicably—when it's easy to think of her as an ally. Those days are over, I fear.

When we arrive on Prologi, Huitcrai, Galing, and Atheron are scanned, and their blood and urine samples are collected. I believe their scans came out clean. Never-the-less, they join me on an airbus to Wongatrobix. Zeraf has let me come back to help them settle in—after warning me that she will be monitoring me.

We land outside the compound, as always, and are told to follow the road. Once I know we're inside—I recognize the shrubbery I once hid behind and hear a slight click—I tell them, "We just entered a prison, surrounded by an invisible wall. You don't want to experiment with it, I promise."

They all look frightened and stare around them.

"Don't worry, I'll tell you approximately where it is."

I don't think Galing and Atheron even hear me as they stare at the sky and the miles of open space to the horizon.

"This place is beautiful," Huitcrai says.

"I know," I say. "It's really amazing. And the Prologs are quite proud of it."

"Prologs?" Huitcrai asks.

"Zeraf is a Prolog, and so are all the natives to this planet they call Prologi. Follow me, and I'll show you the center and the building blocks for your huts. I'll explain how things work."

Nearing the center, I'm nearly knocked down as Aidi crashes into me and envelops me in a bear hug. Dr. Rosen isn't far behind her.

"You're back," Aidi says. "I knew you'd come back."

I hug her close until she pulls away and asks, "Where's Nanny?"

"I'm so sorry, Aidi. We didn't get help in time."

"She died?" Aidi's eyes well with tears.

"Yes. She's dead. We'll always miss her, but at least she's not in pain anymore."

Aidi nods, tears gone, and says, "That part's good."

I sigh. Good, simple, practical Aidlidah. In that moment I know why I love her.

I make introductions and give a brief description of what has happened. I ask Aidi how she has fared, and she assures me she's fine. As we prepare to move on, Dr. Rosen asks Aidi if she wants to move her hut closer to mine.

"Nah," Aidi says. "I like my garden. I'm keeping it nice for Nanny—keeping it the way she liked it. And I need to be close to the depot."

I promise to visit her every day that I'm here.

After touring the center, I help Huitcrai build her hut on the same side of the river as mine. We find her a nice nook in a copse of leafy willows, with a view of the area behind us. Though we know there is a wall not far distant, the view goes on to the horizon with grassy hills, meadows where animals roam and graze, distant mountains, and the big expanse of sky, often filled with birds of many varieties.

Galing and Atheron build close to each other across the river from us, close to the Jalsparians' forest. They can hardly wait to meet their distant relatives from a planet they've only heard of.

"They're sleeping now," I tell them. "Wait until the red sun sets."

Once our huts are set up, we go to the center to eat. A few Costrans are just finishing their preparations for bed. They are offended when they see Galing and Atheron without jumpsuits to cover their furred bodies, and make angry comments about their "indecency" and lack of respect. They stare at Huitcrai in her threadbare clothes from Costra, but don't make any rude remarks.

To the glaring Costrans, I say, "Give them a break! They just escaped confinement inside a cave on the moon where they've spent their entire lives. But they're people just like us, so show them some kindness."

Some mumble apologies, some yell angry retorts, but they all leave. I show Galing, Atheron, and Huitcrai the showers and the store of jumpsuits. The Laeperians quickly dress, and while Huitcrai and I cook for the four of us, they go outside and stare at the natural world, especially the sky.

When food is ready, we sit at the outside tables to eat. The red sunset is pretty and the rising of the purple sun in the Northeast casts a soft light to mingle with the orange and yellow streaks of light over the western horizon.

I've barely started to eat when I see Jalsparians coming up the road. I run to meet them. Orson quickly closes the distance between us. He embraces me, sweeps me off my feet, and twirls me in a circle.

"Maise. My Maisey," he mutters. "I was so afraid I'd never see you again." I kiss the smooth skin of his cheek. He's about to kiss me when Atheron's sharp voice intrudes. "Are you going to introduce us?"

I pull away, more annoyed than embarrassed.

Galing stands by Atheron's side. I smile at the sight of them. They both look so different in the jump suits They have them on backward.

"Atheron! Yes," I say. "Please meet my good friend Orson. And this is Rakar and Bornak. They'll introduce you to the rest, but first let's go with them to the center so they can eat."

Rakar and others gather around Atheron and Galing asking them questions, as they walk slowly toward the center. As Orson and I follow, I introduce Huitcrai.

"I'm pleased to meet you," Huitcrai says.

"You know Jalspeak," Tocran says in surprise, as he drops back beside us.

She smiles. "Yes. Had to in order to live in the Rock. I'm glad I learned." Is she flirting with Tocran? I think so.

I go back to our table with Huitcrai and Galing as the Jalsparians go into the center to bathe and prepare food. Atheron sits opposite me, looking stiff and glum.

I touch his hand. "I think we need to talk, Atheron."

He nods, but says nothing.

"I'm sorry if I hurt you by leaving as I did."

He keeps looking at his plate, offering nothing to the conversation.

I start over. "I can only imagine how you felt. I know you wanted to...I know you waited a very long time for the coupling, and I deprived you of it. I didn't leave to hurt you."

Finally, he looks up and says, "But you hated me."

"No. No, Atheron. I didn't know you, so how could I hate you," but even as I say it, I realize I did hate him and everyone else who participated in Perlay's persecution. Especially Atheron. Yet for some reason, I want to reassure him, so I say, "You need to understand the reason I left."

"If it wasn't me, what was it?"

"It was the Rule. The first and all-important Law of Transparency. I couldn't stay where a person has to live in fear of being found guilty, persecuted, and put to death without a chance to defend herself. I couldn't go on living in fear that I would accidentally break the rule or that someone would think I had. I decided I'd rather freeze to death than be tortured like Perlay was for such a trivial offense."

As I finished my impassioned speech, I feel my anger and disgust extend to Atheron for his role in the torture, even if he was acting on Galso's orders. He's the one who tortured her. I feel contempt for everyone who voted without listening to her defense and found her guilty. They're all responsible for her murder.

"Trivial?" Atheron asks.

"Yes, trivial. Trivial and unfair. If she'd been convicted of murder, and if it had been proven beyond a doubt that she killed Kaltka on purpose, I could see punishing her. Maybe even the death penalty. But not with torture. But that wasn't it. She endured the worst kind of punishment imaginable for saying it was an accident. And it was never proven beyond a doubt that it wasn't."

"No, she said..." Atheron begins, but I stop him with my hand raised, palm out, mere centimeters from his face.

"Stop! You don't have to tell me all the things they accused her of. I was there. And that's why I left."

"So you didn't leave just to get out of coupling with me?"

"No," I say. "Not just that. I would have coupled with you, had your baby, if it wasn't for Galso's cruelty, being forced to be part of a society of fear, and being afraid that I'd be next."

He frowns. "So you wanted to mate with me?"

"No. I didn't, but I would have. I wasn't ready to couple or to have a baby. Not with anyone."

"Okay." Atheron nods, and touches my hand. Then he looks at Huitcrai and says, "I was promised another, as soon as she was ready."

I look in alarm at Huitcrai, just as Orson and his friends bring their plates to join us. I jump up. "I'm finished. Huitcrai, let's make room for the Jalsparians and the Laeperians to get acquainted. I'll see you later, Orson."

As we walk back to our huts, I ask Huitcrai about what Atheron said.

"Yes. That's the main reason I volunteered to come. And I think it's why he came, too. When he saw one more chance to couple leaving him, he decided to take his chances and follow."

"So much for not putting your name on the list," I tease.

Huitcrai sighs. "Galso added my name with Atheron at the top of the list. For some reason Galso is intent on cross-breeding Costrans with Laeperians. Since I wasn't fertile yet, he moved Ithwaic and Tyla to the top of the list and put mine and Atheron's second. He's been waiting for me to have my first period, and I've been keeping it hidden for three cycles. Muleen just found out and called me in, lectured me for not telling. I thought I was going to be put to death, but they overlooked my lack of transparency, because I'm the last chance they have to mate Atheron with a human from Costra. The day after you arrived with Zeraf was supposed to be preparation day. Our coupling ceremony was scheduled for the next day. You came just in time."

When we're alone, sitting in front of my hut and watching the river as a family of waterfowl floats by, Huitcrai says, "I could never have imagined such beauty. It's like the pictures in history books of things I never saw on real life. Trees, green grass, flowers, butterflies, and sky, blue in the pictures but a lovely shade of lavender here."

I nod. Such beauty surrounds us, and I'm grateful that our prison wall is transparent. I was beginning to take the wonders of nature for granted, though I remember feeling the same awe that Huitcrai expresses when I saw it for the first time.

"I thought it was a fairy tale, it was in such contrast to the more recent history that told why we left Earth to settle on Costra. I'm sure you heard it, too. Waste leaking into natural waterways, filling them with stinking gray sludge. It was always gloomy because of the thick smog that made the air hard to breathe. People had to wear masks to go outside. The oceans kept rising, flooding many coastal cities." She waves her arms to include all that the eye can see. "But look. The fairy tale is real. It's here. More beautiful than Costra's countryside, which I've seen only once. Costra still has some wild animals, I'd like to see, but I've lived most of my life in Imron City, and there mostly inside the school or Reems and Johnson headquarters. But from what I've heard, outside the cities, there are places where the ground and sickly trees and shrubs are gray with ash and dying from drought. I've seen some of the mining towns. Not a pretty sight."

I nod. "No wonder the Reems and Johnsons send spies here. They want this, and they want it badly."

"And will do anything to get it," Huitcrai says.

"I can't blame the Prologs for protecting it. I'm sure they see how the Costrans, or Botekis and they call us, are polluting Costra already with mining, oil wells, and coal-burning power plants. Prologs apparently keep tight control on everything. I wouldn't be surprised if they regulate population size just as the Laeperians do, in order to keep this place pristine."

"They seem very advanced, with flying cars, space ships, a huge and lovely city..." Huitcrai's voice trails off.

"I've wondered about that. I think the mineral they're mining on Probius-2 may be the answer to that. I bet the Reems would love to get their hands on that."

"How long do you think they'll let us live?" Huitcrai apparently has no illusions about ever being free.

"I don't know. I'm sure they will eventually eliminate those whose lives are proven to be useless to them. But I'm trying to get them to send me back as a spy. Mainly, I want to stop Jadith from killing more people, especially kids."

"Do you think she actually kills them?" Huitcrai asks.

"Dumping them on Laeperia to freeze to death, is killing them, and I know she's done that with others before Ithwaic and us. But she may have other ways to get rid of them too." I hear my voice, low and angry.

"Use and destroy. And with no qualms about it," Huitcrai says. After a moment's reflection she adds. "I can't begin to guess the Prologs' plans for us, but whatever happens, I'm glad I came. Seeing this beauty before I die is worth whatever they do to me. I will absorb it deeply into my soul every minute I have left."

Chapter 34

The days pass quickly. Too quickly with not enough time alone with Orson. Huitcrai has become something of a shadow. I love having her to talk to, but I miss having some solitude, too. On the rare occasions I can slip away to visit Orson, I find him surrounded in a group, conversations flowing, as Jalsparians and Laeperians compare notes. I sit in on some of the sessions just to be near Orson, who wraps his arm around my shoulders. Everyone has come to accept that we are a couple.

Not in the way Jasmine thinks. She caught up with me yesterday and taunted. "What's it like to have sex with an ape? Oh. Excuse me; what kind of creature do you call your boyfriend?"

I ignore her, but she presses. "Tell me. It must be exciting, huh?"

"Sorry," I say. "If you want to know, you'll have to see if you can attract one of them and find out for yourself."

"Ick," she says, "don't make me vomit," and stops following me.

Of course, we haven't made love, Orson and I. Largely because of no opportunity for privacy. I do not harbor any racial prejudice, though I admit I did back when Galing first tried to court me. Because he looked different, I didn't see him as quite human, and therefore beneath me. Isn't that the same way the white community I grew up in thought of me? My dark complexion makes me look different from them with their pearly-white skin, so they assume I'm subhuman. I'm ashamed I stooped to that kind of thinking about Galing. I look at Huitcrai as she sits between Tocran, who always makes room for her, and Galing. I don't believe she's ever had a racist thought or feeling.

Galing. Now he's a surprise. I thought at first, he came because he still has a crush on me. Pretty egotistical, I know.

I'm finally getting to know him as we sit around a campfire with the Jalsparians. Someone asks Galing and Atheron why, when given the choice, did they come.

Atheron's answer isn't surprising. With Huitcrai leaving, there was nothing left for him in the Rock, and he wanted a change of scenery.

Galing takes his time and seems to be giving it a lot of thought.

"How about you, Galing?" Orson prompts.

"Well, of course, I heard Maisewith say 'prison' and that's what discouraged others from jumping at the chance, I suppose. But so what? It might be better, and it could be worse. At least it would be different. And I was more than ready for different."

"How so?" Orson asks.

"I was born in Laeperia, which means I was born inside a mountain and have never known anything else. When I was a baby, I was special. 199 people wrapped me in love, taught me all I know, including enough history to believe there was something else outside, at least the little-known world of our ancestors—and that none of us would ever see it, because there was no way out and no one was coming to get us. They always stressed that was okay because Laeperia's crystal cave was a happy place. A place of peace, love, and beauty.

"I learned the rules. And it wasn't hard to follow them when I was the cherished youngster. But when I was about twelve, twin girls were born, they were doubly precious, and I was just another contributor to the welfare of all.

"One woman, Bitta, who may have been the mother who gave birth to me, took me aside."

"Might have been?" Tocran interrupts. "You don't know who your birth mother is?"

"In Laeperia," Galing explains, "it doesn't matter who gave birth, and I was never told, because every mother provides nurture just as every male provides advice and tutoring to every child born. But Bitta seemed to take more of an interest in me than most of the women."

"That would be weird," Lukita says, "On Jalspar, the family unit is the most sacred. Everyone knows and honors their parents."

Galing is quiet as he stares at Lukita. Orson prompts. "Go on, Galing."

Galing nods, and finds his voice. "When the twins were born, Bitta took me aside and said, 'You are now a caregiver. Instead of being looked after, you'll help look after the babies and do everything you can to make them happy, just like the rest of us have done for you.'"

Galing pauses a moment, a sad, faraway look in his eyes. "I wasn't pleased. I didn't want to be a caregiver. And I didn't like the twins. But when I said that, for I had always been encouraged to speak honestly and hide nothing, I'll never forget the look of alarm on Bitta's face. She put her hand on my mouth and looked around. She spoke close to my ear and quoted Rule 2. Then she said, 'Existence of so many people in so small a space depends on two things, honesty and harmony. Anyone displaying discontent will be locked away so as not to infect others with negativity.' She gave me a little shake and told me to smile."

Galing shakes his head and continues, "It didn't make sense to me, so I shocked her more by saying, 'If I feel negativity, but pretend to feel happy, I'm breaking the first rule.' She said, 'No. You just have to change your feelings so that what you show—happiness and kindness—becomes the truth.'

"I tried. But I wasn't always happy, and it felt like a lie, but, of course, I couldn't say it. It was a trap. Pretend, but convince yourself you're not pretending."

"You always seemed happy, except maybe the time I turned down your request," I say, feeling a little sorry for rejecting him so abruptly.

Galing says, "I was getting better at it, teaching myself to think only of the good things, the daily meal, friends, warmth, and work, rather than the monotony of the daily grind, the lack of anything different, ever. Then you came. Ithwaic first, then you. It was exciting to have new friends who could tell me about other worlds. But Galso soon squelched that when he heard Ithwaic talking to me. Galso said it was not good for us to hear of what we could never have."

He looked at me and shook his head slowly. "I really wanted to get closer to you, Maisewith, but I didn't know how and made a fool of myself, scaring you off before you got a chance to know me. Then I was sadder than ever.

"I hated Galso, but had to pretend I didn't. Why was he the boss? Who appointed him the master of all of us. He always claimed he was only the spokesman for the group and all of us made the decisions. But it's not true. People are afraid of him. In my life, and I'm only a little older than you, Maisewith, I've seen three executions. The one you saw, one not long after Ithwaic came, and one when I was very young. I had nightmares for a long time after that.

"It was Galso every time! Galso has taken over everything, and even though he asks for and gets the vote of the whole population, he always gets his way. I believe it's because everyone is afraid of him. He controls by instilling fear. He convinces us we're happy and that we all agree to every restriction. And if anyone disagrees, they keep it to themselves, lest someone tell on them. Sometimes I dreamed of sneaking outside and dying before anyone could stop me."

"Wow," I say, impressed by his long speech. "And I thought I was the only one who felt that way, being the outsider."

"I wonder how many more feel that way but will go on forever, telling themselves to be nice and that they are happy and everything is for the best," Galing muses.

"Out of fear," I say.

"Yes," Atheron's voice shakes a little as he agrees. "I'm much older than you, Galing, and I've watched the slow evolution of Galso's rise to power. To anarchy. There used to be others who had some influence. I was at a council meeting once—not part of it because I was still a youngster, but working nearby on some repairs. I worked quietly and heard every word. Galso said, 'We must revise the rules. Number three should be first.' When someone asked him why, he said, 'I've heard quibbling among our people. I've heard children disagree in heated arguments. And it all came from one not believing the word of another.' I didn't know how he figured that," Atheron interjected, "but he seemed sure of it. He continued, saying, We don't have room for disagreement, for rivalry, for questioning whether someone is hiding something, or disguising the truth. In order to have peace in our limited space, we must make transparency compulsory.'"

Atheron, with a faraway look in his eyes, continues, "Another council member said, 'But we have that rule. Number three says, Speak only the truth.' But Galso argued. 'Yes, but they are not following it. They lie to each other. Anger over it grows like a cancer and finally erupts. If we let it continue, sides will form and war will break out. People will annihilate each other for no good purpose.' Galso sounded so wise, everyone was nodding their heads. But one asked, 'How will moving it to number one make any difference?' And Galso explained, 'by giving it prominence and backing it up with a grave consequence. The death penalty.'"

Atheron pauses, looking over the group, as we hang on his every word. "I was stunned," he says. "And so were the rest of the councilmen. They were silent for a moment until one spoke up. 'Kill our own? Just to ensure they speak correctly?'

But Galso roared, 'Just? Didn't I explain what it can lead to? Would you rather see hundreds of people killing each other than one die as an example of the importance of transparency and honesty?' And the council cowered before Galso's dominating form and attitude. It was voted on and passed. Not by all two hundred people, but by ten, at Galso's insistence."

"What I saw at Perlay's execution was so excessive and so unfair, I couldn't stand to live there," I say. "What about individuality? It's been extinguished in Laeperia. What about differences of opinion. Who's to judge that what is true for one is true for another?"

"What you witnessed was the result of one man's lust for power and his enjoyment of inflicting pain and fear."

"Enjoyment? Really?" Huitcrai asks.

Atheron nods. "Yes, I truly believe he has come to enjoy seeing blood, hearing screams, having the power to render someone helpless," Atheron says. "His first execution was quick. The liar—and it was a blatant lie he'd told, or so everyone agreed—was given a quick death by a knife to the heart, and only witnessed by a few men who were ordered to restrain the liar. The second, Galso decided, called for a lesson. Without consulting anyone, he called an assembly, ordering everyone to attend. 'People have not learned the need for honesty. Witness the result of a wayward tongue,' and that time, after getting everyone to stand in agreement that the woman was guilty, he cut out her tongue before killing her. The next one was even worse, and then..."

Tears filled Atheron's eyes before continuing, "I wanted nothing to do with it, but I was made to participate in Perlay's execution. Galso insisted I had to, out of loyalty for Kaltka, my beloved, with whom I was finally allowed to mate. I'm sure Kaltka, who had the gentlest soul I've ever known, would have hated me for what I did to Perlay."

Atheron couldn't go on as his voice caught in a sob. We all sat in silence until he was able to continue. "I could hardly believe he added extra torture, taking her eyes and cutting off her ears, which have nothing to do with telling the truth. But I was a coward. I didn't refuse, thinking I would be next if I did. That's how much Galso's fear mongering controlled me and, I believe, everyone else. I've lived with the guilt and shame and the horror of the memory ever since. That's why I came here."

"What can stop him?" I ask.

"Not a thing. Not from inside. If he feels his authority slipping, he finds another way to add to the fear. People won't conspire against him. They're afraid to say anything for fear they will be reported. Galso has become God to those who agree, and I think some do. To most, I think, he's become the monster no one dares to challenge. They can't unite against them, because they don't trust each other. They don't know if anyone shares their views because it's too dangerous to ask."

Silence reigns for several seconds. I finally break it by asking, "Is there any place in the universe where greed hasn't caused pain and suffering?"

Of course, it's a rhetorical question, but Orson answers. "Not that we'll ever see. Jalspar is divided into two major powers that fight for supremacy. Rulers use their subjects for their gain, keeping them poor and reliant on the governments."

"It's turned our planet into a wasteland," Rajek adds. "Only recently have the two powers joined forces to revive space exploration to find a planet they can inhabit. That's why we're here."

We are all silent for a long time. Finally, I say, "Thank you for telling us, Atheron. Now I understand. And I'm glad you escaped Laeperia, but now you're trapped here. The Prologs, or Falstarians as you call them, know what a treasure they have and how to keep it that way. I don't know their plan for us, but I'm sure they will keep us confined until they decide what to do with us."

"That's fine," Atheron says. "I'd rather die here in this world of fresh air and sky than live another minute under Galso's rule."

I nod, "I'd like to be able to see the rest of the planet. Are there other jurisdictions or does the Supreme Ruler that I hope to meet with soon, control all of it? Are people in outlying areas being suppressed or are they left alone? In other words, is Prologi just like every other planet in its greed?"

"And what are their plans for all of us?" Orson asks.

"I hope to find out, but I doubt it's to our liking." I say, hoping Zeraf will actually send for me to attend the council meeting she said she set up for us. I believe her, but she could have changed her mind.

When Huitcrai and I return to my hut, she says, "I was thinking about Jedd and Jadith and how they pretended to care for us, telling us how they took us under their wing out of mercy. But we find out we are just throw-aways once our usefulness to their schemes came to an end."

"Yep. Greed, just like everyone else. I'd like to know what all their scheme includes."

Huitcrai, looking very serious, asks, "Did you ever think that our names hold a clue to what they were using us for?"

"How do you mean?"

"Well when I broke into the lab records and found my file—and was caught before I ever got a chance to open it—I noticed my name on the folder was punctuated?"

"Punctuated?"

"Spelled like an abbreviation. H.U.I.T....you know, a dot between each letter. An acronym."

I let that soak in and say, "Let's compare with Ithwaic's and my name, and Aidi's to see how many of the letters are the same."

"Yes. I've noticed we all have ai, probably for AI, artificial Intelligence."

"Aha," I say, remembering what Jadith said about calling me, 'Missy,' because she's taking the A out of my name. I tell Huitcrai, "They found exactly that in Aidi's brain. Called her a human robot. And when they took it out with all the connections, they left her with less than she had, even as a Down Syndrome child. Does that mean I had a bot in my brain? One that required several surgeries to get it right? One they could control?"

"Maybe. If so, it explains all those surgeries we both. But why? Robotics were so well developed, no one could tell one apart from a human. Why not use a real robot for whatever they were trying to do?"

"But look at what they were trying to do? Spy on this planet. So, what if they sent real robots?"

"The Prologs' scanners would have immediately detected robots, and they'd have destroyed them."

"Exactly," I say. "And that's probably what happened.

"So," Huitcrai says, "they decided that by implanting the robot in a human, they wouldn't be detected."

"Yes," I say, "underestimating the power of the scan. But when they realized it wasn't working, they put it inside a worm in Nana's gut, and it got by." Thinking of it makes me shake with fury.

A loud voice fills the air. A loudspeaker? I didn't know there was one. In Prologi, the voice repeats, "Maisewith, report immediately to Central Supply Depot. Do not delay. The supply truck is waiting to take you to the city."

"I gotta go, but come with me. I'll talk them into bringing you along," I say, gathering my bundle. I probably won't need it, but who knows if I'll ever come back?

As I cross the bridge, Orson meets me. "They're taking you away," he says, sweeping me into his arms.

"Yes. I say. I'll return if I can." My lips find his until the announcer interrupts with a warning. "Maisewith. Come! Now!"

"I'll never forget you," I say.

"Nor I you, Maisewith. I love you."

I nod, swallow hard, and say it. "I love you, too." And my pounding heart tells me it's true.

I run to the center without looking back.

Chapter 35

A Prolog guard meets me before I get to the center. He's broader and taller than most of the Prologs I've seen. His face is a darker orange, about the color of dark caramel. His broad-set eyes are plum colored. A scowl accentuates his bare brow, and his lipless mouth is set in a firm, straight line.

He uses hand gestures to prompt me to stop and hold out my arms, wrists together. He hesitates only a moment and says in a voice charged with authority. "Extend your arms."

I think of protesting and decide it isn't worth the wasted time. I put my palms together, holding my bundle against my side with my upper arm, and offer my wrists. He applies a cuff made of some pliable material that seemingly clamps of its own volition and conforms to the contours of my arms, firmly, but not uncomfortably.

"You must take her, too," I say, nodding at Huitcrai. "She has important information for the council. Zeraf will want her there."

The guard looks at Huitcrai as if she had suddenly materialized out of thin air.

"Go!" he shouts. "Step away."

Of course she doesn't understand what he's saying so she stands there extending her wrists as I did.

"You are too close! Step away," he shouts, swinging his arm and striking her in the face so hard she falls.

"Stop," I yell as I rush to her side. "She doesn't understand your language. Give me a chance to translate before you get violent. If she knew what you said, she would have complied." I grasp Huitcrai's hand with my two.

"I'm all right," she says, though I can see she will have a bruised cheek and a black eye. "I get he's not going to take me along."

"Apparently not—the beast! But I'll do my best to get Zeraf to send for you."

Rough hands grab my hair and pull me to my feet. I jerk loose and spin toward the guard. "Is this how you treat everyone waiting for orders they cannot understand? What is your problem?"

"Tell her to go to her hut. I'm only obeying my commander."

"Oh, really? Zeraf told you to strike down anyone you didn't happen to like? I'll ask her about that."

To Huitcrai I apologize for not translating sooner and saving her from the blow. "I was giving him a minute, hoping he'd give in. He says for you to go to your hut. Hopefully, I'll see you later. Take care of that eye."

The guard stares as Huitcrai gets to her feet, picks up my fallen clothes, re-wraps them in my parka, and tries to hand it to me. He slaps it away.

I punch him with my shackled hands. "Don't strike her again! If you tell people what you want, you have a better chance of getting it. Now let's go." I stride to the supply truck before he can grab me.

"You are supposed to wait for me," he growls when he catches up just as I'm sliding into the bench seat in the front of the truck. He gets in after me and makes a big production of snapping a strap from my shackles to a metal bar on the dash board.

I bite back a retort and stare ahead. The driver asks the guard if he's ready.

"Move it!" the guard snarls.

As the truck lumbers up the road, I say, "I'm Maisewith, as you know, but I don't know your names." I pause, but neither guy answers. The driver shifts in his seat and grips the steering wheel with both hands, keeping his eyes straight ahead.

"Well, anyway," I prattle on, "Thanks for the ride. I'd shake your hand to show my gratitude, but as you see they are indisposed right now."

They only glower, so I continue.

"You have a really beautiful country here. Do you know that? It's hard to understand how you can be so mean in the presence of such glory. Or maybe you've never seen anything else, so you don't know by contrast how blessed you are. Have you ever seen images of other worlds? If not, you probably don't know how privileged you are to live here."

The only response I notice is that both men become more rigid.

"Or maybe you have seen worse places. Are there any bleak and ugly places on this planet? Maybe you come from a lesser place. That might explain your bad mood."

"Cease!" I flinch with the sudden booming roar from the guard. So does the driver.

I see I've touched a tender spot in his ego and wish, more than ever, to see the rest of the planet.

"Sorry," I begin, but before I can say more his rough hand slaps across my cheek.

I'm furious. I feel a sting and dampness where his claw-like nails scraped my skin. I clench my jaws and cast him my best look of defiance. But his face is turned away from me as if something out of the truck has caught his attention.

"What a big, brave mayla you are, beating up little girls!" I say. This time I get no response, though I can see it's taking great restraint to keep himself from hitting me again.

I notice we're through the fence. The truck stops.

The guard unhooks the strap on my shackles from the metal bar and pulls me out. He pushes me into the cargo area. Before I can get off the floor, he straps my cuffed hands to the metal frame of the front seat where it bolts to the floor. He pulls another cuff from a pocket on the wall and wraps it around my head so that it tightens across my mouth.

I don't fight it; just shoot him the meanest look I can muster without being able to move the lower half of my face. That brings him the closest I've seen to smiling—a slight smirk of satisfaction. The truck driver/pilot does something with the controls, and a white, translucent shield raises from the back and encloses the vehicle. We ascend straight up, clearing tree tops before zooming toward the city. Neither man says a word as I wiggle around, seeking a more comfortable position on the hard metal floor.

When we land in a parking port near the government building, the guard removes the strap from around my mouth. He looks less sure of himself, shakes his head, and clears his throat. Unable, it seems, to find the words he's looking for, he looks at the driver who speaks for him. "If you tell Zeraf that he struck you and that other beranode, Zeraf may not be happy."

I turn to the guard, "Well, 498," I say, pointing to the tag on his uniform. "So that's it? Zeraf didn't actually tell you to hurt us?"

He says nothing, but I detect a look of fear flit across his face.

"I guess you aren't used to a knob-face that can tell on you, are you?"

He truly looks scared. I wonder how severely Zeraf would punish him.

"If you live to continue your job for another day, you'd better do it with kindness. I'm going to ask Zeraf to bring Huitcrai back here. And if I hear you harmed her in anyway, I'll make sure Zeraf knows all about it. And don't cuff her either. She's a sweet girl and harmless.

498 mutters, "I'm sorry I hurt you."

"Then don't treat anyone that way again."

Zeraf frowns when she sees me. "What happened to you?" she asks, staring at my face.

498 stands beside me, and I feel his tension.

"A little accident," I say with a wave of my hand. "I'll be fine."

Zeraf is still frowning, so I add. "I'm just glad it wasn't worse. Do you want me to go wash my face? I didn't have time before we had to leave."

"Not now, You'll have time later. We meet with the council and Supreme Leader in the morning."

"Good! Then there's time to bring another witness. There's a girl who has more recent information about the Boteki government operations than I do. Much of it she gleaned by spying. She's good at it, and she wants to help you."

"What's her name?"

"Huitcrai," I say. "She's young, but gifted in hacking into secure sites. She can tell you much more than I can."

"Get her," Zeraf orders the guard. "Go. Now!"

Zeraf invites—no, she commands—me to sit across from her, eye to eye. "Tell me what you learned of importance from the guests of the nation," she asks.

And I thought she had no sense of humor.

"I learned that your guests are as shallow and petty as everyone else in human society.

"What do you mean?"

"Everywhere I go, I find that when encountering someone who looks different, people assume they are superior and look down their noses, er, I mean faces at the supposedly inferior race."

Zeraf glares at me. "Explain what you mean."

I shrug. "Maybe it is the nature of all sentient beings to compete, to want to dominate. There are three races on this planet right now—that I know of—and I think each has at least some members that think their race is better than all others. Or is it just greed that makes some want to have it all for themselves and have no care for whoever stands in their way."

"Are you lecturing me?"

"Only if it applies," I say.

Zeraf's eyes snap as she says, "I'm not interested in your philosophy. I want to know what you learned of the history of the guests and what it might tell us about any threat from Botek or from Demtoli."

"Demtoli? Oh, yeah. They call it Jalspar. You have little to worry about from your sister planet. The inhabitants are poor, and the planet's resources are in short supply. They are behind you, technologically. The ship you disabled was the only one they had, and it took them years to complete it. They want what you have, because they are struggling to feed everyone, but they don't have the means to even get here."

"And Botek?"

"That's where the threat lies, but I don't know the latest plans. They have the technology. They've been engaged in space travel for centuries. And it seems they have the determination to invade Prologi. But, they're cautious. Didn't they first send robots, disguised as humans?"

Zeraf nods.

"But you quickly saw them for what they were and disabled them. So then they put electronic surveillance devices inside living humans. Your scans found them, as well. So they went so far as to implant a parasite in a subject, turning a human victim who trusted them into a carrier for a parasite with a spy bot to see if that would get past your scan. And it did."

I notice an expression of something—panic, maybe—cross Zeraf's face, but she quickly controls it, and I continue, "It goes to show how ruthless and uncaring about sacrificing innocent lives they are. That makes them extremely dangerous."

"What do you think is their next step?"

"They took over Botek without much of a fight. Just moved in and pushed the natives into corners. With no will or means to fight for their land, the natives let them. I believe they mean to do the same here, and when spy bots and parasites don't work, they'll try more drastic means. I can't see much choice but to give up or wage war."

I wait for a response, and when one doesn't come, I say, "I don't see them giving up."

Zeraf walks me to my room and says before closing the door, "I think we can persuade the council and His Eminence to send you to Botek, but if we do, be very careful. Getting you killed is not what I want."

As the door closes, I turn to see that a bed has been added as well as another chair at the table. How and when did Zeraf order that so quickly? There is also a tablet. I swipe it and find that three programs have been installed. There is the dictionary I used to master the language when I was working with Teranik in the mine. I am always eager to learn more words. There is a map of the city I'm in, Prologi's capital, I've learned. Touching the map causes it to pan out to show the solar system. The more I touch it, the more it expands to the galaxy and beyond to the known universe, with more detail than the ones I studied in school. The third app is a vid of the worm removed from Nana. It shows it being dissected and analyzed by Prologs in protective clothing, including gloves, masks, and goggles. They put the dissected portions into airtight see-through containers. When each container is subjected to intense light and heat, the pieces shrink to a tiny disk, which, I see, is a coiled thread that straightens to a thin filament.

The door opens, and I leave the tablet to greet Huitcrai. Teranik comes in behind her, bearing a tray filled with good-smelling food. She smiles warmly and says, "I brought your friend, some food, and a message from Zeraf."

She places the tray on the table and smiles broadly, exposing teeth, made less scary by the joy I see in her eyes. "I am glad to see you again. I feared I would not."

"And I'm glad to see you." I hope my smile shows how much I mean it.

"What did Zeraf want you to tell me?"

Teranik gives us a half bow and says. "She commands you to meet her before the meeting with council. I will call for you, so both of you be ready early."

"Good. We will," I say as she backs out of the room.

After the door closes, I hug Huitcrai. "I'm so glad you're here. I think we'll be going back to Costra, and I want you with me. It will be perilous, you know."

"I know, but I want to go. I'm ready to kill Jadith, I'm so angry."

"Me too. But what now?"

"Aidi," she says, her voice catching. "She's very ill. Dr. Rosen thinks it's the same thing Nana had."

"What? How is that possible. She was fine two days ago when I last saw her."

"She told you that because she didn't want you to worry." Huitcrai lifts her eyes to meet mine, and I see her tears. "Dr. Rosen says she's been crying a lot ever since her Nanny died but she figured it was from grief. When she tried to comfort her, Aidi said, 'My tummy hurts a lot. Don't tell Maisey, but I think I will die. Then I will be with Nanny.'"

Chapter 36

We meet Zeraf in a private dining area where a table is set for three. Teranik seats me to the right of Zeraf's chair and Huitcrai across from me. As we wait for Zeraf, Huitcrai gazes at the furniture, the wall hangings, the flowers on the table, and out the window at the view of a pristine city, its ornate buildings burnished by the rising sun.

"Wow. Only in fairy tales have I ever seen anything close to such elegance. I've seen pictures of grand architecture and clean streets and air, and was told they used to exist on Earth. I didn't believe them. I've never seen air this clean in Imron City!"

"Here comes Zeraf," I say. "I think we should stand until she's seated."

We do, and Huitcrai bows from the waist, her hands together, fingers pointed to Zeraf.

Zeraf smiles and waves us to our seats as she takes her own. "Good morning. I hope you slept well. Now, Maisewith, translate everything said here."

I quickly translate Zeraf's greeting and then blurt in Prologi, "I barely slept after hearing Huitcrai's bad news. There is another parasitic infection at Wongatrobix."

The pleasant look on Zeraf's face quickly disappears to be replaced by one of fear.

"Who? How many?"

"One that we know of. It's my sister, Aidi, the girl brought who lived with the woman who died."

"Another spy worm?"

"I don't think so. They sent her here for a purpose. Not to die. Her robot was working. I think it would have manifest symptoms sooner, if a worm had been implanted before she left Botek. Aidlidah spent a lot of time with Nana, taking care of her when she was dying. There were surely chances for infection."

"How ill is she?"

I ask Huitcrai.

"Her abdomen is swollen, and she cries all the time, according to Dr. Rosen."

I translate, but add, "But I don't think she's as advanced as Nana was." How could she be? I saw no more sign of it than her usual plumpness when I last saw her.

"There may still be time to save her." But, even as I say it, I realize, Nana's symptoms came on fast at the end, as if the worm had a sudden growth spurt.

Zeraf sits silently for a moment. Is she contemplating letting Aidi die?

I say, "If you operate quickly you might keep it from spreading to others." When she still doesn't answer I say. "It would be an opportunity to see if there is a spy bot in the worm. That's information you need."

"I know. I know, Maisewith. I'm considering the best way to contain this." She touches her belt and orders, "Brika, come to my dining room immediately."

In an instant, a tall Prologi molla stands beside our table."

"Reopen the isolation unit. Take an isolation bag to Wongatrobix with haste and bring back a sick beranode. Take aides with you, and all of you wear protective gear. Keep her in the isolation bag until she is in the hazard-safe unit. You and your team will have to operate there."

"I should go with her," I say. "I can lead her to Aidi."

"No time. We have to meet with the council soon," Zeraf says.

I turn to Brika and give her directions to Aidi's hut. "And if you tell someone her name, they will lead you to her."

Brika nods and says, "I will go immediately." She salutes Zeraf and strides away as soon as Zeraf returns the Prologi salute.

Our food comes, and Zeraf tells us to eat. I didn't expect to have any appetite with so much to worry about, but the wafting aroma and the attractive arrangement of fruit, bread, meat and broth work their magic, and the first taste calls for more. Zeraf waits for us to finish as she picks at her food. She asks, "Huitcrai, what can you tell the council that will persuade them to send you to Botek?

I translate, and Huitcrai answers, "I know how to hack into classified documents and have figured out how I can do it without getting caught this time. I can find out what they are planning and when."

"And how will we know you will betray your own government and your family? You could turn against us instead and share our secrets with them."

"What?" Huitcrai exclaims after I translate. "I want nothing more than to stop them from using people. I have no loyalty to those who used me, lied to me for their evil purposes, and then disposed of me. They have been exploiting people without their knowledge or permission for a long time, and then they throw us away when no longer useful. Disposing of us like we're pieces of garbage!"

Huitcrai's face gets red as she talks, and the veins stand out on her forehead. Her obvious fury along with my translation is enough to convince Zeraf.

"Good. Tell it just like that when asked by the council. It's time to go."

The council chamber is austere compared to the decor and warmth of the dining area. All gray stone and bare walls. The supreme leader—if he has a name, I've never heard it—sits front and center in a large, armed chair. He's a big guy, made taller with a conical hat made of white material that glows in the light from the lone, high window. Inidiclost? It's adorned with sparkling stones and gold trim. His wide slanted eyes are royal purple with splashes of orange. They give him a look of amazement, but his large lipless mouth, set in a firm line and turned down at the corners above a square jaw and chin, suggest firm control.

Four maylas, as male prologs are called, sit to his left in a straight line at a forty-five-degree angle while four mollas sit in the same angled line on his right, forming wings to the leader. They all wear serious expressions. Huitcrai reaches for my hand and squeezes. We remain standing in the middle of the room facing His Eminence.

Zeraf does a strange salute that includes a bow until the leader acknowledges her.

"Speak," he says.

She tells him of my help in translating the audio on the spy bots extricated from the visitors from Botek, including the one in the worm that killed Nana. She tells them what was learned from each of them. I'm amazed at her memory for detail.

Huitcrai and I shift our weight from one foot to the other as subtly as we can, but dang! It hurts to stand in one place on a rock floor for so long.

Finally, Zeraf tells them that we want to go to Botek to get more information and stop the instigators, Jadith Reems and her associates, from their ill designs on Prologi. She explains that she'll install spy recorders in or on us, so that everything we hear or say will be transmitted to a spy satellite already in orbit around Botek, and from there, back to Prologi.

"How do we know they won't betray us and help the Botekis? Give them our secrets? This one knows where our inidiclost mine is," says the supreme leader, pointing to me, "That makes her a danger to us."

"I will let them speak for themselves," Zeraf says and nods to me. "Maisewith."

"Your Eminence," I begin, hoping that's the correct way to address him, "I have no loyalty to the ruthless, murderous powers on Botek. I've seen how they ruin everything they touch. Their greed and mismanagement have left their home planet in desolation. They are polluting Botek in the same way. I'd do anything to keep them from coming here to destroy Prologi."

The leader starts to say something, but I rush on. "But more than that, I must stop them from the harm they do to innocent people. No one in Wongatrobix knew they were being used as spies when they came here. Jadith and her associates didn't care that they might be killed. To them we are dispensable. They can always find more subjects to use and then throw away. The worst was the pain and suffering they inflicted on my nanny." My voice breaks and tears fill my eyes, but I gulp and continue. "They knew it would kill her, but they did it anyway. Planted a parasite with a spy bot, hoping to escape the detection of your scans. And it worked. It killed her as they knew it would. And now we have another..." I choose my words carefully, "Wongatrobix guest showing the same symptoms. I want to end Jadith and her associates, if it's the last thing I do. I want her to die. But I want her to suffer, first." Tears fill my throat and eyes so that I have to quit.

Zeraf gives me a moment to regain composure and then nods to Huitcrai, who looks a little frozen with fear.

"Just tell them why you won't betray the Prologs, why you are not loyal to Jadith." I translate for Zeraf.

"Loyal to Jadith? Never. I hate her." Then she repeats what she told Zeraf at breakfast and adds more. If the vehemence in her voice and the sparks in her eyes don't convince him, her words with my translation do.

"What skills will she add to the mission?" The leader asks.

I don't wait for Zeraf to prompt me. "Huitcrai has been there more recently than I have. She knows where they meet. She knows places we can hide. She knows how to hack into their systems and find their top secrets. You want her on your side, which is where she firmly is, as you just heard and saw."

Turning to Zeraf, he commands, "Make sure the spy devices are fool proof. Make sure they know you have ultimate control over their lives."

Turning back to me, he asks, "Are you willing to die to end the tyranny of your own people in order to protect ours?"

I understand what he's asking. I still have explosives on my back. Now, I believe Huitcrai will as well. Will they be able to detonate them from here? Well, maybe via their satellite. But it doesn't matter, I know the answer to his question.

"I'm willing to die if I have to, as long as I can take Jadith and as many of her associates as possible with me."

He stands and says, "You are dismissed. Go prepare for departure."

My heart pounds as I realize my fantasy for ending Jadith and conquering Imron will not be as simple as I liked to dream. I could easily die without accomplishing anything.

Huitcrai asks as we leave, "I assume we succeeded, right?"

"Yes, we got what we asked for, a chance to risk our lives; an adventure that could be our last one."

Huitcrai lets out a yip of joy and says, "Good, we will succeed. We must!"

"I just wish I could say one last goodbye to Orson. I say, "I'm happy we're successful, but sad to say goodbye to my Demtoli friends and to Aidi if she lives."

"Then I have both bad and good news for you, Maisewith. Your sister died in surgery. I'm sorry," Zeraf says. "But you will be glad to know that we are remodeling the Demtoli spaceship to take you to Botek. And your friends, the Demtoli crew will be operating it. They will take you to Botek and be subject to your commands in whatever help they can give you once you get there.

I smile, my heart too full to speak.

