Gulliver's Fugitives Part 8

The man who was the object of this parody was spared the actual sight of it. The nose-mounted camera of the hovercraft that bore him through the night did in fact record the junk-sculpture, but couldn't display it on the hovercraft's screens because, as parody, it was both criminal and contagious. Instead, the screens simply indicated that a target had been acquired.

The hovercraft circled back in a wide arc and came in low. Twin pod-mounted guns roared to life, firing fifty explosive-filled rounds per second, and in one quick pa.s.s the junk-sculpture was blasted to pieces. It became just more old garbage.

Chapter Seven.

TROI FOUND HERSELF lying in a darkness impenetrable except for a small, faint patch of orange glow on a rock surface. The glow seemed only a few meters away, but she had no visual frame of reference.

Bruised and still handcuffed, she rose to her knees and then, cautiously, to her feet. The glow ahead seemed a comforting color. All she wanted now was a place where she could rest for a few moments and decide what to do next.

She felt ahead with her foot. Soft earth. She began to work her way forward. The glow grew larger, visible as a curving stone pa.s.sage, still many meters away.

Her shoulder nudged against a rocky protuberance. Unable to bring her cuffed hands up to steady herself, she leaned sideways against the rock. As her cheek touched it, she perceived that the rock had a peculiar texture. Leathery and pliant.

The object moved jerkily, and Troi lost her balance and fell to the ground. She heard a flapping sound and felt air moving. The flapping sound rose and moved about behind and above her, now audibly closer, now farther.

Worried that she might be in danger, she tried to sense consciousness but could discern only the most basic level of animal awareness. And more than one. There were several creatures flying around in the darkness, perhaps using echolocation to navigate, Troi mused.

She rose to her feet and moved urgently toward the light and the pa.s.sage. The sound of the animals in the air behind her grew fainter and disappeared by the time she reached her destination.

The pa.s.sage looked as though it had been deliberately hewn, like a mine tunnel. The faint orange light was coming from around a sharp bend. Troi moved toward the light, and turning the corner, found herself looking into an immense natural cavern. It showed her a diminis.h.i.+ng perspective as it curved down from view in the distance.

On the floor directly ahead lay an underground lake. Droplets fell sporadically from stalact.i.tes on the ceiling. Peach-colored light emanated from grottos on the floor.

Troi walked forward into the cavern, until she came to one of the sources of light. It was a small, naturally glowing object, a rock.

Its orange-pink light had a calming effect on her. She became aware of her fatigue and sat on the sand near the pool, her manacled hands behind her.

The cavern matched the one described in a diagram she'd seen before beamdown: long, fairly straight, pa.s.sing directly under the ore factory. It would lead most of the way to the area under the CephCom complex. But the away team had not known the specifics of the layout for the last three kilometers of that route. They would have explored it as they went.

If she attempted it herself and successfully entered CephCom through its underbelly, she'd still have to covertly locate the captain and a communicator for contacting the Enterprise. No way to know if Riker and Data were being held there, too. But if they were ... hadn't Amoret implied something about capital punishment for those who violated the anti-imagination laws?

She looked at the situation as calmly as she could, and had to conclude that it was hopeless.

She thought of how she had sometimes told others that the boundaries of one's capabilities are self-imposed. She'd just have to push herself beyond her own limits. The counselor would have to counsel herself.

She was more determined than ever to discover the connection between the Other-worlders and Crichton. "He is now aware of life alien to himself," the Mirror Man had said. She wasn't sure if this meant Crichton knew specifically about the Other-worlders-but he certainly carried a secret. And it was the only handle she had. She decided her best course was to deduce all she could about Crichton and the Other-worlders before her arrival at CephCom. Then, if she failed to find a communicator and beam up with the captain, she would confront Crichton and learn what she could.

She summoned the energy to get up and work on freeing her hands from the cuffs.

Then her empathic sense made her aware of an approaching human. She quickly stood and looked about.

A small, disheveled man was walking toward her.

As he came closer she noticed the soiled rags which swathed his body, the dirt ingrained in his skin, and finally, when he was standing in front of her, his muddy, mildew-laden smell.

"And what sort of brave trespa.s.sing creature are you?" he croaked, looking her up and down, grinning.

"By Setebos, what a dark-eyed beauty. The master will want a look at you."

He commenced a detailed inspection of her person. Troi stood very still, sensing no malice or intent to harm, as he felt the material of her uniform between his fingers and tested it with his teeth, sniffed and gently tugged at her hair, and peered into her eyes as though he were a doctor.

When he was finished he stood back and said, with pride in his cracking voice, "My name is Caliban."

A Shakespearean name. Could he be a Dissenter? she wondered. If he was, the rebellion tottered.

"Mine is Deanna. I am pleased to meet you."

"Down," said Caliban, pointing to the ground.

"Beg your pardon?"

"Affix your hands to the earth."

She didn't comply until she felt a sense of what he wanted to do. He wanted to help her, which probably meant breaking her handcuffs.

Troi sat, and put her hands on the ground behind her. Caliban put a rock under the chain between the handcuffs, then picked up another rock and began smiting the chain.

"Are there others like you here?" Troi asked.

"Other people with different stories. But they're all Dissenters like me."

Troi began to think that she could use help finding her way to CephCom. Caliban didn't seem capable of providing it, but Troi began to wonder if there were other Dissenters, like Amoret, who might. She could only guess at the size of the insurgency, but from what Crichton had said it was a serious threat to his CS.

Troi still felt the Other-worlder aliens, not the Dissenters, were the essential factor for solving her crisis, but she'd take help where she found it.

"Can you take me to the Dissenters?"

"Let me think about it. Why don't you tell me your story first?"

"Well, I can't tell you everything. Is one of your Dissenters named Amoret?"

"Yes. You know her?"

"Sort of."

At that moment he broke the chain of the handcuffs.

The metal bands remained on her wrists, but her hands were free. She stood and stretched her arms stiffly.

The beating of wings on air reached her ears. Troi looked up. At first all she saw was a small salmon-colored globule of light, circling near the roof of the cave. As it descended toward her, she made out the shape of a large flying creature, on whose back rode an adolescent girl with long dark hair. In one hand she held one of the light-stones.

The creature skimmed over the pool in circles. Troi realized she was probably seeing the same species of animal she had encountered near the cave entrance. It felt the same empathically. Again, Troi could feel nothing beyond simple animal awareness.

The beast was bigger than a horse. It took no notice of Troi, apparently content to let the long-haired girl guide it with a hand on its leathery neck. The girl glanced at Troi with curiosity.

"Crazy Rhiannon," Caliban said to Troi, "and her haguya-beast. Never happy unless she's flying with it. I like to keep my feet on the gruntworm-infested earth. What about you?"

"I think I know what you mean."

The haguya alighted on a rock near them. Troi noticed that its wings were jointed like a bat's. Its head and beak were reminiscent of a hawk's, but on a grand scale befitting the size of the body. Its eyes were shaped like a falcon's, but large and gold-hued.

Troi turned her attention to the girl called Rhiannon. The rider of the haguya seemed to be about twelve, with skin as pale as milk and a mouthful of crooked teeth.

Quite possibly both of them live in these caves, thought Troi. That would explain her paleness and lack of dental attention, and his smell.

Troi wondered if the girl led a life of loneliness and neglect. She peered into Rhiannon's emotions and found no such isolation, but instead, a warm family-feeling of shared adventures, and at the moment, a breathless exhilaration. The latter feeling had to do with riding the animal, Troi guessed.

Rhiannon seemed to have a special relations.h.i.+p with the haguya. Troi watched her bend close to its ear and whisper, while petting its great head and neck. The haguya tolerated her ministrations, but did not respond in any way Troi could perceive.

"My name's Rhiannon," she said to Troi. "Do you know the name?"

Troi had read the Mabinogi as a child, and remembered that the fictional Welsh Rhiannon was a beautiful grown woman, almost a G.o.ddess, who had a special affinity for horses. Rhiannon was clever, fearless, and more than a match for any man, while her horse had mystical powers and could outrun all others.

Troi paused before replying. To say yes was a calculated risk on this planet where fiction was a capital crime. She could feel no threat at all from the girl, however. In fact, Troi felt that Rhiannon wanted her to answer in the affirmative so she could be properly welcomed.

Besides, the girl's mythical name seemed a strong indication that she was a Dissenter, like Caliban and Amoret.

"From Celtic literature, isn't it?" asked Troi.

"That's right." Rhiannon seemed pleased.

"My name's Deanna. Can you take me to your friends?"

"I have to, since you're already here. But you'll like them. You are alone-no family?"

"No one is with me."

"Then you will be part of our family."

Rhiannon smiled broadly, with no embarra.s.sment about her crooked teeth. Troi smiled back. She didn't want to hurt the girl's feelings by declining that last hospitality.

Spurred by some unseen signal from Rhiannon, the haguya flapped its wings mightily and lifted into the air.

"Follow Caliban!" Rhiannon called down at Troi.

Caliban picked up one of the light-stones and, using it as a torch, began to shamble across wet broken rock with surprising speed on his simian legs. Troi had to hurry to keep up with him. He mumbled to himself.

"Be not afeard: the isle is full of noises, Sounds and sweet airs that give delight and hurt not.

Sometimes a thousand tw.a.n.gling instruments Will hum about mine ears ..."

Troi looked behind. Rhiannon and her mount were following, swooping and wheeling giddily among the stalact.i.tes.

The haguya, Troi supposed, was an indigenous animal, native to the planet. At any rate, it was not from Earth. It was the very thing the Rampartians said didn't exist-life alien to Earth.

As Troi followed Caliban away from the main lake and down the long natural pa.s.sage, she noticed a small bubbling spring. Zephyrs of sulfurous, bacteria-ripe air reached her nose. By the glow of Caliban's light-stone, she could see strange hydra-like animals moving in the waters. Caliban glanced at them.

So there were perhaps many non-Earth species here. And the Dissenters knew about them. The Dissenters had no problem acknowledging alien life. Did they perhaps know about the Other-worlders?

At that moment Troi felt a terrific jolt as she became aware that the Other-worlders were present-still in their own separate realm or universe, yet frighteningly close. Apparently her speculation had summoned them. They seemed to be getting more and more eager for contact with her.

Troi mentally closed them out, straining against the contact with all her will. Maybe she would have to "meet" them again to find out their secrets, but this was not the time for it.

She refocused her attention on the trail under her feet and managed to regain her equilibrium.

"Are we alone here?" she asked Caliban.

"Yes. We have a long way to go to Alastor."

She searched the feelings both of Caliban and Rhiannon, who was riding the haguya above them.

They did not seem aware of the Other-worlders.

As the feeling of the Other-worlders' proximity decreased, and Troi realized she had prevented contact, she reflected that the mystery was apparently still hers to solve. Were she and Crichton the only people on this whole planet who knew about the Other-worlders?

About an hour after Troi, Caliban, and Rhiannon pa.s.sed the little sulfurous spring, a humming one-eye floated by, moving in the same direction.

The one-eye didn't register life-forms in the spring. It didn't register the nearby light-stones either, as they were powered by indigenous microorganisms. The one-eye couldn't recognize the bioelectric or infrared signatures of alien life; that is, of any kind of life not brought from Earth.

The humans had never discovered the indigenous life on their planet, because it all lived under the surface. Excess radiation from s.p.a.ce had forced indigenous species to live and evolve underground. The Rampartians had neutralized the radiation with some simple filter-fields, but no indigenous life had as yet permanently returned to the surface (though over the last hundred years the haguya had developed a habit of making brief flights above ground, always hidden under cover of the darkest nights). And Rampartians didn't venture below the surface, since their underground mining and tunneling was done by machines. On rare occasions when Rampartians accidentally wandered or fell into caves, any resultant memories of indigenous life would be cla.s.sified as "fictional" by the mind-cleansing computers, and the memories would be deleted.

So now the one-eye went on its way undisturbed, following its mission profile: to find the enclave of the criminals.

Behind it, in the great cavern of the lake, a squad of CS men, newly arrived through a forced-open duct at the ore factory, awaited the results of the reconnaissance, and the signal for attack.

Their eye-rasters were working overtime, blocking out the pool-dwelling animals and the glowing light-stones. The computers a.s.sumed that these "fictions" were illusions created by the Dissenters, like cheap magic tricks.

They walked for hours along the same natural string of caverns, one swift-flowing stream.

At a certain point Troi noticed an artificial dam made from logs and piles of rock. Here the trail diverged from the stream.

After a bit more walking, Caliban stopped so suddenly that Troi almost ran into him. He was holding his light-stone against his body, leaving most of the surroundings in darkness.

The haguya alighted in front of them, and Rhiannon slid off its back. The adolescent girl whispered some words into the animal's ear and it took off and disappeared into the darkness.

Rhiannon turned toward the cave wall nearest them and said, "Alastor."

A voice from the other side of the wall answered, "Caer Sidi. What's today's word?"

"Minotaur."

After a moment, there was a grinding sound, and a cleft opened up in the wall. Rhiannon climbed through, then Caliban pushed Troi through and climbed in after her.