*
Donny, among others, had been unable to sleep. He gave up after an hour or two and got up. He wandered around the building, noticing that it had ramps instead of stairs. It looked like he wasn’t the only one who couldn’t sleep. Dan was patiently sitting in the lobby on something that Donny assumed functioned as a chair. Obviously designed for a much larger species. It could almost be used as a bed for a rhino.
“Has any one contacted us yet?” Asked Donny going over to Dan.
“No. Sarah has decided that one of us will stay here to wait.”
“What did Mathew say about that?”
“I think she forgot to tell him,” said Dan with a grin. “Can’t sleep?”
“No,” he chuckled. “Poor Mahmoud had a heck of a time getting his little sisters to sleep. Last I saw he was making up bedtime stories.” They both laughed. Mahmoud had a vivid imagination and a lot of experience in that task. It wasn’t only the children who listened. He had the true storyteller’s art of pitching a story at two levels; one for children and one for adults.
Helkmid walked into the lobby. The Person who had contacted him pointed to Dan and Donny and Helkmid looked at them, a little startled. They did look unlike any People he had seen before. The one sitting down had sparse black hair, or fur, only on its head, was black skinned, black eyed and both of them were clothed. The other one was even smaller, with cream coloured hair, golden brown skin and blue eyes. Both were thin and hairless apart from the hair or fur on their head, or any other hair was hidden by their clothes. Their colouring was in stark contrast. Very unusual. He wondered if they were the same gender or different. And how many genders they had. Were they in fact the same Race? Possibly. Other than colour and size they were both identical with two ambulation limbs, two manipulating limbs, two eyes, one mouth, head at the top, they obviously walked upright, just one opposable thumb on each manipulating limb, the one standing was looking at him; well that was a good start.
Donny looked up as a tall, grey coloured, bipedal Alien came in that looked humanoid, at least in shape. It had a Translator on and wore a loose white cloak. After a pause, it came over to Donny. It indicated its Translator and Donny, remembering what he had been told, adjusted it, turning a switch to the new symbol on it that meant English.
“Are you one of new People, just arrived?”
“Yes. Are you one of the People who invited us here?”
“No. I am Helkmid, an Okme. But come with me,” and Donny, as ever curious, did.
He was led into a lift, up many floors and into a long narrowish room with things like huge coffins in it. The Alien asked him to sit up on a large kind of raised bed and ran a scanner (?) over him then asked,
“Can I take a bit of your blood?”
Donny held out his arm and the Alien took a small amount.
“Why do you want my blood?” he asked.
“Compare for Healer.”
“What is Healer?”
“Machine that fixes.” Helkmid took some of Donny’s blood and turned to put it into an analyser. As he did so, Donny saw his cloak catch on a drawer. Impatiently, he removed the cloak. It was all he was wearing. Donny looked, fascinated. He (?) was skinny, grey all over, had no hair, anywhere, had various bulges all over him and no apparent sex organs. His hands were skinny and he had two thumbs on each hand making six digits. Donny checked his feet. No shoes. No toes. His foot was flat and semi circular. He muttered to himself as he put tiny bits of Donny’s blood into various vials. Several minutes passed.
“I’m Donny,” he said. “Are you a doctor?”
Helkmid turned, startled, looking as if he had forgotten Donny was there. He had. He was used to his patients being unconscious. “Yes. I am Helkmid. I am doctor. What are you?”
“I am Terran. I don’t have a job yet. I haven’t decided what I want to be. My parents are a Biologist and a Diplomat.”
“Are you a child?” he looked even more startled.
Donny thought hard and tried to be accurate. “Very young adult, not yet independent.”
“I am sorry. I did not realise that. Is it permitted that I take your blood and examine you?”
“Well I don’t mind so long as I get to ask questions. Is that fair enough?”
“That is fair. How old are you?”
Donny thought. He held up ten fingers. “This is a normal lifespan, with this being zero,” he pointed to the little finger on his left hand. “I am here,” and he pointed to a space between his ring and middle finger on his left hand.”
“Are you adult size yet?”
“No, most of it though. I should get a bit taller.”
“Is your brain fully developed?”
“I think so but the contents aren’t.” He had suspected Helkmid was laughing before. Now he was sure!
“Are you old enough to reproduce?”
“Yes,” said Donny blushing, “But I haven’t tried to yet.”
Oh. Well that was a relief. That legally made him an adult so he hadn’t broken any laws, though maybe he had broken customs. It depended on the parent’s attitudes and beliefs. Helkmid placed him in a machine that travelled over him and then another that he travelled through, describing what they did. Donny named one as an X ray machine and the other as a Cat scanner.
“Are you in good health?”
“Yes.”
“You have broken a bone in your leg.”
“Well yes but that was a while ago. I thought it was healed.”
“Not quite. The muscles still need some work to be restored to their full function.”
Helkmid was by now very intrigued. This little creature didn’t seem to mind that Helkmid had been absent minded as usual but had then committed a serious social error in removing the clothes he so hated to wear. This creature Donny ignored that. He was also very polite and friendly. Helkmid was not used to being treated as an equal by a clothed Terrestrial. And so curious! The questions continued.
“What are all those things there?’
“Healing Machines.”
“How do they work?”
“They tell the body how to fix itself and sometimes can supply some of what is needed.”
Donny absorbed this in silence for a minute and was just opening his mouth for another question when there was a beeping sound and Helkmid went over to check the analyser. He spent some minutes looking through the various results, very puzzled when Race was shown as Niseyen. How could that be? They looked similar, but these two did not look like any Niseyen he’d ever seen. And he’d seen a lot!
“What does it show?” Donny asked and Helkmid wondered how to answer that. Was his analyser malfunctioning? Finally he said, “You are not a new species. You are in our records.”
Donny was astonished. “I don’t know of any others of our species that have been off world,” he said.
“You don’t look Niseyen but the tests are conclusive. Well within normal parameters. Definitely same species. He looked at Donny still very puzzled. “Would you bring me others of your species to test? Young ones? Please?” He paused, wondering how to put this. “Do your people have any population problems?”
“Yes we do. We’re way overcrowded.” He looked at Helkmid, puzzled at the long stare he was getting and the long silence.
“Is your population increasing?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know how fast.”
“No, but some one will. Too fast.”
“More people please. Any age, but young ones too?”
“I’ll try. They may ask for the same deal though.”
“Your species is normally so curious? So many questions?”
“Decidedly! Just as bad!” Donny yawned. Time for bed.
After he left, Helkmid tested Donny’s blood in the second analyser. Same result. So it wasn’t malfunctioning equipment. This was very interesting. And the Niseyen were in deep trouble, looking to be near extinction. As the day shift came to work, Helkmid told them what had happened dur
ing the night and saw the same speculative curiosity on their faces.
“This is a likeness I took of this Donny. If he turns up again, please wake me.” Helkmid went in to his room down the corridor. Like that little Niseyen, he also yawned when tired. The night shift was the longer but Helkmid generally took it because it was unpopular and he didn’t mind. Also, there was a lot less patient contact and he did get so sick and tired of rudeness and arrogance.
Next Morning
The next morning, the adults waited patiently to be contacted. The children did not. Nag, nag, nag. In the end, Bella Chieng took Li, Stella, Tasha, Bea and Yogabala, and headed for the zoo; at least that was what they hoped they were doing. The lobby had what looked like tourist brochures. Very experienced in foreign travel, Bella had informed everyone,
“You simply take a brochure, indicate where you want to go, and on Earth most people on the street will direct you. If you don’t understand what they say, go where they point and ask again at the next corner. They always point. It may not be the same here but indicate directions and prompt them to show you.”
For Bella, it worked and they were awed and fascinated and spent the whole day there. There didn’t seem to be a charge. There were also exhibits, films and lectures. There were a few Translators at each of these sites. They spent the day soaking up information about the planet, its flora and fauna. To their delight, their language was programmed in as they had been told it would be. All they had to do was set the Translator to the symbol that had been added and meant English.
The Kashlin family headed for the sea, along with the Nedri’s. The de Jonge’s went sight seeing outside the city. Slowly, other adults started to do the same eventually leaving only the designated Diplomats (minus a few), and several SETI members. Later on in the day, Sarah took a Translator and went down to the sea to meet the Priskya who were the actual owners of this planet but not the race that had developed the cities. The developers were the Ridianit. She wondered what both Races looked like. Were the Priskya those that had invited us here she wondered? It turned out they weren’t, but were delighted to see her. On the way back she found several of the children under and around some sea side shrubs trying to free what looked like miniature balloons.
“They’re one of the main life forms here,” said Yogabala from under the bush sounding like she was parroting a lecture, which she was. “There are land ones and ones that live in the sea.”
Bea added, “The land ones grow to be huge and control going up and down by some kind of air pressure and gas mechanism but we didn’t understand that. The big ones hang on to things to stop being blown sideways but the little ones often aren’t strong enough and get caught in things.”
Yogabala crawled out and handed Sarah a tiny green balloon with tendril like things hanging down from it. She explained,
“These tendrils are fishing lines and they have a special coating that stops them sticking to each other.”
“What do they eat?” Asked Sarah.
“Insects, fruit, lots of different things. The ones in the sea eat fish and stuff. The really big ones can open shellfish with their tendrils. We watched some films about them.”
Tasha interrupted, “They killed them off in the millions because they thought they were a hazard to planes. There are no birds here; these have filled that niche. The land ones come in lots of colours and the sea ones are just grey and blue. They can grow to the size of a house but those ones are very old. They have two sets of eyes; one set underneath, here.” She indicated underneath and Sarah saw two little black eyes. “And one set on top, here. The inside is all filled with air which they make into a gas for lifting them. I didn’t understand that bit. It’s chemistry and I wasn’t any good at that and lots of words the Translator had no words for. The body is around it and under it. The eating parts are under it. The adults have much more tendrils and if they get caught they jettison them and let down another set but the little ones can’t grow the new ones fast enough because they keep getting caught. If they jettison all their tendrils they can’t catch food to eat and they die.”
Bea handed up another one to Sarah. It was even tinier, about one inch in diameter, a lovely gold colour and it had no tendrils left.
“Will it die?” she said. “It’s so pretty.”
“The older ones learn by air pressure when there is a big wind coming and you see them leaving the cities and going into the trees. I guess the little ones need to learn that.” Tasha said.
By this time Sarah was surrounded by nearly a hundred tiny balloons as the children succeeded in freeing most of them. Bea and Yogabala were under the bushes handing them out to the bigger children. Every child held several balloons. The freed ones were scattering in all directions. There were still some that were caught but the children found they were firmly knotted.
“Sarah!” Tasha cried out in fright.
Everyone stopped and looked around. Five huge balloons were slowly coming towards the children from several directions.
“Are they dangerous?” asked Sarah.
“They can be to small creatures.” Answered Tasha. “They catch them.”
“Let all the balloons go!” Ordered Sarah. Slowly and reluctantly, the children did so while Bea and Yogabala succeeded in freeing a few more.
“Now, everyone gather around me and we’re going.”
“But some of them are still caught and they’ll die!” Yogabala said.
“I’ll come back and free them. I’m bigger than you.” Sarah said as the huge balloons loomed up.
The children were getting frightened and made no more protest as Sarah led them away and into a building where they were safe. As promised, she then went back and managed to free the remaining balloons. The huge balloons came near but didn’t interfere with her. Sarah reasoned she could crawl under the bushes if they tried to catch her. The smallest one was about the size of a large van so it appeared possible it could get her but not if she wedged herself under a bush.
Sarah ended up with five balloons that had no tendrils including the tiny gold one. She tucked them inside her blouse and headed back to the children.
Every small child had one each and spent a fascinated evening finding things to feed them. The adults too were fascinated by the balloons. All the adults though were wondering why the People who had invited them had not made an appearance. They discussed what to do, not knowing the protocol here but there was no agreement.
Mathew might be their self designated leader but they found him to be arrogant and rude. He wouldn’t listen to the opinions of others and he and Sarah were at loggerheads. Their second night on Torroxell ended with, mostly, happy children and grizzly adults. The children were busily recounting where they had been and what they had done.
Donny had gone back to Helkmid and spent some of the day helping clean out some of the Machines as People came and went for treatment. He also managed to persuade Li, Stella and Mahmoud to go up to be tested. As Donny had predicted, all were fascinated by the Machines and agreed to participate in return for being able to ask questions. Testing completed, they soon left but Donny remained.
Donny had mostly been raised by his grandfather. A quiet, sensitive, thoughtful child, his parents were often frustrated with his nature and unable to understand him. Donny’s grandfather did; Donny was just like his grandmother. His grandfather adored him. By the time Donny was born, his grandmother had been dead a year. Donny’s grandfather was lost without her. Donny’s parents didn’t know how to raise an unplanned child. The solution was obvious. Donny’s grandfather did more of his raising than his parents, from a week old. The old man loved him unconditionally. Unlike his parents, his grandfather understood his emerging nature. Donny would go to his grandfather’s after school every day and stay there until picked up by his parents. But his grandfather had died recently and Donny felt lost without him.
On board the ship, Donny had quickly formed a friendship with Alan. The two were both interested in Mah Jong and
played frequently. On board, several people, and many of the Asians, had bought the electronic versions of Mah Jong and started playing. Some of the Europeans thought they would join in with the Asians but were totally outclassed so started the Juniors Mah Jong Club instead. Alan and Donny had joined. Alan loved card games too and found that Donny knew most of them and would happily and competently play by the hour, having been well taught by his grandfather. It filled the otherwise boring hours on the ship for those who were ill equipped to cope with long hours of leisure like Donny’s parents whose life was their jobs.
But today Donny found that Alan was busy talking to the other adults. He looked around for the kids and couldn’t find them so he went back to Helkmid, arriving in time to clean out another Machine; the least favourable job. At least he was popular here. Donny’s solution to many problems was to ‘build a bridge and get over it’ said not unkindly by his grandfather. It meant find or make a way to cope. If stumped, go and help someone. Drawn to older men, Donny liked Helkmid. His way to become a friend was to go and help him. As usual, it was working.
Incommunicado
Trlin kept going up to the entrance. No one had heard anything. There were no messages, just no ship, nothing. They were all getting very worried. This had never happened before. There had been delays before, but there were always messages. That morning, the power had been cut off and that was a serious problem. Although they had their own internal power supply, which they had bought with them, the external power ran the communications. They now couldn’t communicate. And they couldn’t go outside. They were blind in the sun even with their dimming glasses. Trlin paced, hoping someone would bring them a message. Near dusk, he saw a small creature. It wasn’t any animal he had seen before. It must be sentient. He watched it as it crawled under a bush. Due to the dimming light, he could see a little. Was it a Scientist? A Botanist? What was it doing? Then it called out and he saw another one, a different colour but similar.
He called out, “Can you help us please?” The two looked around. He waved. They saw him. Now would they ignore him as most Races did? They didn’t, they came over to him. To his astonishment, they came into the cave! One pointed at his Translator and he handed it down. It adjusted the Translator and handed it back.
Words tumbled out as Trlin tried to get his message across. “Please can you get help. Our ship has not come. The communication to the spaceport has been cut off.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Our ship has not come for us.”
“You missed the ship?”
“It did not come. Because it did not come, we now owe money to the Yojider.”
“Who are they?”
“The communication company.”
“We don’t have any credit.”
“I can give you credit. Can you pay for us?”
“Why can’t you pay it?”
“We can’t go outside in the day time and the office is closed at night.”
“Why can’t you go out in the daytime?”
“Because we are blind in daylight. Our eyes can’t see in bright light.”
“Why can’t you pay electronically?”
“Because the power is cut off to us,” he replied patiently.
“Oh. We don’t know any other way to pay bills.”
Trlin sighed. They were either very stupid or had decided to have fun at his expense.
Another voice was heard calling and Trlin looked up. A bigger one, same species. It came over, seeming annoyed. “Where have you been? I’ve been searching everywhere! Mum will be furious! Do you want to be grounded?”
“These people are in trouble. They want our help.” The bigger one looked at Trlin who had been listening and was beginning to see what was wrong.
“Are you their parent?”
“No, the sister of this one,” Ilse said pointing at Bea.
“Where are your parents?”
“Back in the city.”
“Please can you bring them here. Please ask them to help us,” Trlin begged.
Bea interrupted, “He can’t go to the city. He needs us to pay a bill for him. Urgently. I don’t know how to.”
“Oh. Mum will know. What do we pay it with?”
Trlin handed her a credit transfer. Next second she had the little ones on the run. Trlin watched his rather large Transferable Debit Card go with them. The older one didn’t know where to pay it. Or who she was paying it for. Oh well. They might bring their parents back. They might cash it in. Probably the latter. He went back into the cave, very worried. He wondered if he should try to get into the city again but the last time he had tried he had got nowhere. No one would help. Most wouldn’t even talk to him.
Mid morning of the next day, another adult came at speed to get him, “Those Aliens are coming back. They’ve bought others, bigger ones. There’s about eight of them.”
Enslaved
Kaswa looked at his fuel gauge. That was going to cut it fine but not as fine as he had. He stretched stiffly and smiled. He’d reached over 5,000 hours flying time today. He’d never have managed that at home, not within two years, not legally. By the time this was over he’d be up two flight levels, they were already licensed for multiple planes and spaceships and for the positions of Pilot, Passenger Licensed Pilot, Weapons Specialist, Communicator and Navigator and they had nearly enough between them to buy a small freighter. They almost had enough now for the ship although they’d need more for buying cargo. But the first flight could be passengers going home. If they could do that they could be off home in two months. And they’d then have a chance.
It had been two years of a steep learning curve. Two years of being dirty, living rough, spent flying, studying flying, in the training simulators or sleeping. Impossibly long days, like today, up for 23 hours so far and 17 of them spent flying. The pay was terrific, if you could handle being shot at. He smiled. He wouldn’t have categorised either himself or Aswin as being risk takers but neither of them were getting anywhere. Two dates in ten years of trying and neither came to anything. Ditto Aswin. It really got to him. It got to Kaswa too. His parents had impoverished themselves to have him. And he hadn’t been the girl they had prayed for. But they’d still had him. He was lucky; a second son. An endangered species.
At least Aswin had had a good job, flying for an importing business. Kaswa thought of his list of boring, badly paid jobs but he didn’t have Aswin’s brains. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. Aswin learned because he was a natural scholar, he enjoyed learning. Kaswa smiled thinking of how he had shocked them both when he really put his mind to it. His learning curve had gone up like a rocket. He had been determined to catch up to Aswin this time and he nearly had. Aswin had had to put on a dedicated spurt to keep ahead despite having being well ahead at the start of a competition he didn’t know he was in. Until Kaswa nearly caught up with him. Kaswa smiled at the memory of the shock on Aswin’s face. Within a month it would be a dead heat as they both would have all the qualifications it was possible to get here. Which was all they needed and more.
Until Aswin had trained him, he hadn’t been a pilot. He hadn’t known it would be his thing. He had excellent spatial awareness. He always knew how big he was, how high off the ground, how wide, no matter what he was driving or flying. Just like Aswin. It was a gift. Within two months of getting here, he had qualified for his pilot’s license and thanks also to the previous experience he had had with Aswin, he had a pilot’s job. Best job he’d ever had. He loved it. It sure beat cannon fodder. It paid a lot better too. Of course statistically, his life expectancy was bad, which was why the higher pay. But he had an instinct for this. Or a lot of good luck. In nearly two years, he hadn’t got a scratch. His plane had been hit but not him. He’d beat Aswin there. It was a carefully guarded secret from their parents that Aswin had been hit twice; one lot of shrapnel in his leg not long after they’d got here, and one dose of concussion, a broken arm and a few odds and sods of bumps, gashes and bruises when he was hit and c
rashed. Kaswa knew nothing about it until it was all over and Aswin was patched up and in the medical centre. But the main point was that now, financially and in terms of qualifications, they were set up for life.
He was sore and tired. It had been a long day hauling supplies and troops but at least he hadn’t got shot at today. He yawned and tried to concentrate. The Tower still wasn’t answering. Visibility was bad with misty rain and clouds occluding the moons making it unusually dark. Navigation was the first exam he’d passed so he knew where he was. Fifteen minutes later and he could see the landing zone. The lights were on. He circled, noting some crashed planes hauled to the side. They were burnt out. Had there been a crash? Collision? Had someone hit the Control Tower? It was only a skimpy, temporary structure, little more than a hut. He could see it but it was dark. That didn’t explain why they weren’t contacting him by phone and were not answering theirs. Had they been shelled? Over run?
“Stop panicking,” he told himself. He didn’t listen to himself. Low on fuel, he was out of options. Land here or find somewhere else in the dark? Lousy choice. Reluctantly, he lined up as directed by the lights on one of the two runways and landed, the lights beckoning him in. He came to a stop at the edge of the runway and taxied off to park. At least he was being directed, albeit electronically. He logged in his hours on his and then the Zeobani data link, did his checks, flipped open the fuel door and when he couldn’t delay any longer he stiffly and slowly eased himself out and pushed the button to let down the steps. He climbed down.
As Kaswa cleared the side of the plane he saw four Nashi waiting for him. Armed with disrupters. Pointed at his torso. Disrupters destroyed nerves; sensory and motor. One collapsed in a screaming heap. The next ten or so minutes of life were spent in agony as all the nerves were destroyed. Inability to move was instant as the motor nerves wouldn’t follow instructions. Death came when the lungs or heart stopped. Consciousness remained almost to the last. So did pain. These Nashi were juveniles. Even more pitiless than the adults. He didn’t like Nashi which was one of the reasons he was happy to work for the Zeobani against these invading Nashi. Nashi considered themselves an alpha Race, were humourless, lacked compassion, wouldn’t know empathy if they were hit by it and had a nasty dollop of cruelty, which was why their weapon of choice was the disrupter.
He didn’t speak Nashi. He didn’t need to. Nashi was spoken using many sounds he couldn’t duplicate and body language. He could perfectly understand their body language. It said, “Got you. Do the wrong thing and you’re dead, go that way, hands up, I don’t care if you live or die, dead would be enjoyable.” Their fat, khaki, simian bodies were rocking with enjoyment and insolence and their long muzzles clacked in contempt. They were wearing army uniforms and had spiked bands on their long fat powerful tails. Which they liked using as clubs. Their fighting limb of choice. Although young, they were already over two meters tall when standing upright as they were now. And trigger happy. Why was he still alive?
He complied. Exactly. He tried to keep his expression neutral. His attitude could get him killed. Anything could get him killed. Very unpleasantly. As he entered the pilot’s barracks, he saw about 20 dead People of varying Races and what looked almost like a firing squad of adult Nashi.
“Scum, worthless creature, you will pilot for us or you will die. Choose.”
“What do you want me to pilot?”
“Gas planes.”
“No.” It came out before he really thought. He would not do that! He would not kill the Zeobani! “Never.” He added as he straightened, defiantly, waiting, and gasped as he was shot. He hit the floor and lost consciousness. His body was pounced on by the juveniles who, in payment for the debasing task of stripping him, could keep everything they wanted.
Some considerable time later, he woke up, his body a mess of agony. Everything hurt so much. He was dizzy and had the worst headache he had ever had. His head felt like it was being crushed. Horrified, he realized he was naked. He knew what that meant. His bracelet containing all his ID was gone, his bank access link, his precious data link, his phone, his rights, his freedom. He was now a slave. But why? And how had he survived? Did he want to?
Over the next two hours, he managed to breathe properly, sit up, and look around. A Zeobani he didn’t know brought him some water. Reduced to drinking water like a slave, which he was. He drank, finding the headache eased a little over a few minutes. He must be dehydrated. He wondered how long he had been unconscious. He remained dizzy and knew he couldn’t stand. Another three hours went by before he could stand up but he didn’t know this as his watch had disappeared with his data link. Which was now owned by one of the juveniles. It wouldn’t work for them though. At least he could console himself a fraction with that.
He carefully got up and staggered around looking for Aswin but couldn’t find him. He drank more water from the communal container. Seeing the Zeobani sitting in a group, he went over, sitting down beside Disixim, one of the other pilots whom he recognised.
“What happened? he asked, “I thought we were winning.”
“We suspect foul play. We were attacked by ships we did not recognize. We have lost the planet. We had to surrender.”
Kaswa gasped. This was terrible. The Zeobani had developed this planet at enormous cost. Now those hateful Nashi had it. There were over 850 million here, mostly Zeobani. It also meant he and Aswin had lost all their money which was in the Zeobani investment houses. He sighed, all they had now was their qualifications. They hadn’t sent their money home because of the 10% transfer fee applied to any money you didn’t take with you. This was to reduce the amount of money earned and then sent off planet. The rules of war now meant the whole planet, everything on it and all resources now belonged to the Nashi. Every home, apartment, vehicle and every item in a shop, factory, home etc now belonged to the Nashi. Private property abolished. The rules of war were simple. Hand it over or die. The surviving Zeobani, now they had surrendered, were not supposed to be killed. But what would actually happen now is that almost every Zeobani on the planet would try to leave. And since all their money and other assets had effectively been pinched, it would be up to the other Zeobani planets to help transport them to another world. Which they would do. But the Nashi were likely to charge an exit fee. Kaswa was very sorry. He liked the Zeobani and they had been very good to the Niseyen. He wondered what would happen to himself and if his parents would be able to raise the exit fee. If he was allowed to leave. He now had no rights. He could be sold. He could already have been sold. He would be the last to know.
The Zeobani had had five developed planets which gave them superpower status. This was therefore a huge blow, he realised. The repercussions would be enormous up to and including a reduction in their overall credit rating. This applied to all four of their remaining planets. There would also be a re-negotiation of any political alliance they had. Individual businesses would also be affected. Everything would be affected. It was a mess.
“What did they tell you or ask you? How did you upset them?”
“They asked me, well they told me, that I was to pilot gas planes. I refused. I don’t understand how I’m still alive. I thought I was hit with a disrupter.”
“They have a stun version of a disrupter.”
“Oh. I hadn’t heard that. How long was I out?”
“A day and a half.”
“What now? Why did they keep us alive? Why enslaved?”
“We don’t know. Some have already been rounded up and taken away. We guess to be sold. We don’t know.”
Kaswa sat in silence. The usually cheerful and exuberant Zeobani were in shock, still and quiet. Their eight tentacles, usually endlessly in motion or playing tricks, were slumped on the ground. They looked greyer than normal. Having no clothes was their normal state of dress since they were amphibian but all their jewellery and technology was gone. The belts or mesh holders worn so proudly as they earned them. They looked beaten. They were beaten. Kaswa was having tro
uble taking all this in.
Three more days passed as Kaswa learnt to drink water and eat the bland yucky paste that passed for food. He had to pull the lever and put the paste on his hands and eat it like an animal. At least he had hands. Some other Races didn’t. A large Avian chose to starve. He thought it was a Clet. Some People of many Races just gave up and died including Zeobani. This latter shocked him. Zeobani were born optimists. Every day, after the lights were turned on, some Nashi would come around and drag out the dead. There were no Cleaners and no deodorants. The stench was awful and getting worse. And he was not getting used to it! A slow anger burned in him.
Suddenly one day there was a commotion and several Nashi entered. They were gestured out the door and into a loading chute leading to a large spaceship shuttle which lifted off after it was crammed full. He recognised the model. It was a freight or troop carrier. A basic model with no seats. He felt the typical sensation of nausea indicating they were going up rapidly. Presumably to a spaceship. A while later it sounded like they were docking. They were then unloaded into a slave pen. He recognised what it was from news pictures of such Hell holes. There were no explanations. Kaswa looked around again for Aswin. The pen held about 100, a mix of at least 15 different Races. The doors had closed. There was the usual dispenser of paste and water and the usual holes in the ground (deck in this case), for elimination. No privacy. Nothing else. At least the pen didn’t stink yet but he sure did. There were no ways to see out so he had no idea what kind of a ship this was.
There were none of his Race here, so he again stayed with the Zeobani. There was little conversation. Most just sat or stood. There were no perches for Avians. There was nothing but the hard floor. One Clet was present, but it looked like it was dying. The Clets were uncomfortable standing as their feet cramped after a while of being forced to lie flat against a hard surface. Kaswa did not know if it was the same Clet. He went over to see if he could help it but it ignored him. They had no Translators and the Zeobani seemed to be the only Race here that could speak to some others in their own languages. They could speak at least ten languages between them, his included. And they all spoke Main, the language of space. Kaswa knew a little of it, enough to qualify as a pilot, but the Zeobani, being good mimics, spoke it well. That was the trouble with good Translators; one tended to rely on them. Now, without technology, they couldn’t even communicate with each other.
The awful journey continued for what seemed like weeks and probably was. He had lost track of time. Finally, they were loaded into shuttles again and sent off. By the sounds, Kaswa thought they might be landing on a planet. But which one? Were they now to be sold? They were unloaded onto a planet Kaswa didn’t recognise. The sun was blinding after the dim lights of the slave pen but it was hot. He shivered despite the warmth. There were bodies on the ground and they had to move among them to get to where they were being directed to go. Finally, they were addressed by a member of the Keulfyd Race. Kaswa was shocked to see they were surrounded by different Races, all armed. Seeing Relogs, he shuddered. Nearly as trigger happy as Nashi. At least all these Aliens had Translators. Had they already been sold?
It spoke slowly and waited while the Translator boomed out in multiple languages, one after the after. “Don’t eat the food here, it is poisoned. The water is safe. Return to the plane you came on by dusk. You are to bring all the bodies over to the planes and load them in. Go into those buildings and throw the bodies out the windows and doors. You are then to load them into the planes. After several minutes the Translator stopped. “Move or die!!” thundered out in Main. A pilot, Kaswa understood that!
They moved. Kaswa was bewildered wondering what they meant as he headed for the buildings. Inside was abject horror. Bodies everywhere, all different Races. Several of the Zeobani, along with Kaswa, checked for life signs. There were none. They were all dead, recently, but how? There were no obvious signs of violence.
“This may be gas?” Asked Kaswa of a Zeobani.
“That could be. They look like they dropped dead.”
“What is this planet? It doesn’t look familiar. The sky is the wrong colour.”
“I don’t know. It looks like the Nashi have sold us to the Keulfyd who are using us for what? A war? Have the Nashi attacked another planet? Maybe they are in this together?” The large Keulfyd that had addressed them was walking around the buildings, yelling at the slaves to get moving.
Most of the slaves were doing just that, obeying orders. Kaswa was shocked at the speed at which so many had given up. No fight left in them. No curiosity. They were apathetic and egocentric. Very few tried to help others. Very few noticed others.
They started to haul bodies outside towards the plane. Many of the bodies had started to smell. The weather was hot. Some of the bodies had released excrement as they died. Some of the smaller Races were cleaning this up. They all automatically kept going. The work was dangerous as bodies were literally being flung out the windows and off the landing pads. Kaswa found it was safer to be in the buildings doing the throwing rather than possibly being underneath falling bodies. He stayed near the Zeobani who had reached the same conclusion. The Zeobani were one of the smallest Races, being the mass of a six year old of Kaswa’s Race. But they were strong for their size, their tentacles made for grasping and holding on. They could pull or drag bodies, but they couldn’t lift them up. So they stayed in the buildings and dragged the bodies to the Avian entrances for others to toss out. Twice, Kaswa saw one lift up and cuddle a dead member of their own race. Surreptitiously, they checked for identification before they disposed of the body.
The ghastly day wore on as Kaswa’s muscles started to ache and his stomach soon protested its state of emptiness. That would teach him to skip breakfast. His mother was always on at him for that. But he was not an early riser like Aswin. He always tried for an extra few minutes in a warm bag. She had given up as he got too big to drag out of his bag and packed him extra lunch which he nibbled at all day after his stomach decided to wake up. He never understood how People could wake up and be alert. And eat. His mother always said he dragged himself through the first few hours of the day on auto pilot. All his senior school assignments were done after tea. Many, he finished in the wee hours of the morning, the house quiet with everyone else asleep.
Kaswa thought of everything he could except what he was doing, as he piled bodies up onto the Avian entrances on each floor. He dragged them out onto the Avian landing pads and pushed them over the edge.
Ignoring the horror of what he was doing, he thought back. They had thought it all through over many nights. Aswin would pilot first and Kaswa later in the day and through the first half of the night. It would be perfect. He wondered if there would be a possibility of stealing a plane here, or a spaceship. After two years of self directed training, they could fly anything. The simulators were brilliant. After 100 hours flight time and passing the exam set by the simulator, you could sit the practical test and qualify after a few lessons on the actual planes. This was another reason they had gone to fight for the Zeobani; the training. It was cheap! Once you passed the exam set by the simulator, half the money you had put into the simulator for lessons was refunded into your account. That was enough money to pay for the practical exam, the medical, the registration fee and the license.
The Zeobani found that that little incentive spurred on the procrastinators while the charge inhibited People using the simulators just for fun. An interchangeable board changed the control panels to allow for claws, paws, hands, tentacles, fins, beaks and brushes, in small, medium and large. Not quite one size fits all. There were three different sizes of standard cockpit. Niseyen were lucky. They could fit in small or medium so they seldom had to wait for the right size simulator to be free. Many of the latest simulators had walls and a roof that could concertina out.
The day was almost over before his brain started to work. There were multiple planes here from multiple slave lockers. He’d switch planes every night until he
found Aswin! The Keulfyd wouldn’t notice, he was sure and he hadn’t seen any Nashi. He guessed he’d been sold to the Keulfyd. But where was he? This city looked newish. Problem was, there were so many planets. He couldn’t see if there was any climate control here. And it could be off. He had tried the Cleaners but all power was off. As dusk neared, Kaswa went to another plane and boarded.
Reaching a new slave locker, he searched it while the slaves jostled and fought each other for food. No Aswin. Finally, he got some food for himself. He ate all he could having learnt that lesson. He then curled up next to some Zeobani and slept.
The next day was a grim repetition. The Keulfyd were careless with the lives of the slaves. Some were killed by flying bodies. Any injured either got themselves onto the planes or were loaded with the dead. Every morning there were more dead slaves. Kaswa never found out what happened to the dead but the planes headed out to sea and he wondered if they were dumped into the ocean. This was now the second city he had seen. That night he changed planes as usual. Searching the slave locker, he saw a familiar profile and went over coming up behind. A quick glance at his face and he bowled him over hugging him in joyful exuberance.
Day Two
The second day, the adults thought surely today they would find out who had invited them here? Not knowing, was worrying most of them but not the children. The morning saw almost all the adults (except the diplomats), and all the children, heading off to explore. While the adults were talking, Donny persuaded the little kids to come with him up to see Helkmid. He explained on the way. Helkmid was delighted to see children. In turn, the children were fascinated to see their organs working on the scanners as Helkmid had them drink funny stuff and they watched on the scanner as it travelled around their insides. They giggled at their X rays. They were both happy and fascinated to give blood as Helkmid used an anaesthetic so the needle wouldn’t hurt. They thought their brain scans were a hoot.
Helkmid would have the child under the scanner do a puzzle while the others watched the colour changes in the brain which showed which part of the brain was being used to solve the problem.
Helkmid was intrigued with the friendliness of the children and their incessant curiosity. He was also intrigued with their obedience. If he told them not to touch, they didn’t. They were also very trusting. If he told them something was safe, they believed him.
Physiologically, he noted the huge areas of the brain that were almost in idle mode and underused and he commented. Mahmoud confirmed that. “Dad tells me we only use 15-20% of our brains. We don’t know what the rest is for. Helkmid wondered if he was hearing right. How could they not know the significance of this? He knew. He knew exactly what this pattern of use indicated. He had seen this before, not often, but a few times. Their brain scans looked familiar as did they, sort of. Finally, he had done all the tests he wanted and the children ran back out hoping their parents were finally ready to go exploring.
After the children had gone, Helkmid decided to pick one male and one female and map their genetic code. He chose Donny and Stella as they were young adult. He was unsure whether the smaller children would have all their genes developed although it was almost certain they would. He wondered what he would find but his scanners were adamant; Niseyen.
Soon, only Mathew and his Team, Sarah and some of her Team, and some of the Diplomats remained. The rest were off sight seeing.
Mathew and Sarah, separately, went down to the lobby to try to explain that they were waiting to be contacted. But the lobby staff knew nothing.
Donny, returning for some food, found Simone and persuaded her to take Dieter to see Helkmid. Helkmid was delighted to see a baby. He said,
“A baby will tell me so much about your People and I can then determine about many of the environmental issues that affect your People.”
Simone was fascinated as Helkmid showed her Dieter’s scans and pronounced him healthy. She was even more interested in the Machines.
Donny explained,
“It’s like they tell the body what it should be like and how to fix itself. Like giving each cell a new blueprint. Do they also supply any bits that are missing like minerals?”
“Yes. The Healer estimates what will be needed and this is encapsulated under the skin and slowly released as needed. This helps the body rebuild itself after an injury. It is easy to tell the body to switch on genes to grow back a finger for instance. The difficult part, was ensuring the genes switched off when the repair was completed. Otherwise a fatal overgrowth can occur and the genes grow out of control. To prevent this, we programme enzymes that restrict the genes.”
“That overgrowth sounds like cancer,” Simone said. Simone also remembered a woman she had worked with who had had Siamese twins. They had been separated but had only one leg and one hip each and had had to share some of their internal organs. Only one set of reproductive organs meant that only one could have children. They were girls. She explained this to Helkmid.
“Oh yes. That occurs in other People. That is fixable but does take a lot of time for the bodies to fix; about four to six months depending how much must be rebuilt. It is fascinating to watch the bodies grow complete and finally separate. Most gratifying. Some of those we treat freely. Some are paid for by their own People but it is very expensive. They must be in the Machine for about 26 hours. We charge by the quarter hour. Sometimes we put a batch through. We can make compartments up inside the machine so it can take as many as ten the size of your little one here. But the Machines will only take on one type of programme at a time. So although we could put in ten little bodies, they would all have to be of the same Race if they are in the same Machine.”
Simone let Helkmid check her also and take blood samples. But like some of the other adults, she was wondering why they had not yet been contacted. She explained what Paswalda had told them. Helkmid was very concerned.
“This Paswalda is well known to me. He is a slaver amongst other things. It could be he has lied to you. Have you got credit, money?”
“No.”
“Then how will you pay for your stay here? Donny said you are living in the hotel in this building. It is expensive!”
“We thought the People who invited us would pay. I don’t understand. Why would he bring us here otherwise? Does this mean we can’t get home? This doesn’t make sense.”
“I’m afraid it does. It makes a great deal of sense as far as he is concerned. What are the occupations of your people? Donny says his parents are scientists and his father currently a Diplomat. Such people are very valuable especially if you don’t have to pay wages but just buy them. Slave price for such people is the equivalent of three to five years wages but they then must work for you for nothing but keep for life, unless they somehow manage to buy themselves free or someone else buys them.
I wonder if Paswalda has ‘supplied to order.’ If so, he will be paid by the ‘orderer.’
“But he can’t sell us! He doesn’t own us!”
“This is difficult to explain. He has bought you here. You are now incurring costs. Sooner or later, you will be asked to pay. If you cannot you are in debt. Once that debt rises to a particular level, or it is seen that you will be unable to pay, then you become a slave and can be sold.”
Simone was horrified. “What is this level of debt?”
“This is complicated. It varies from Race to Race. It varies according to Alliances.”
“What are Alliances?”
“Political groups of planets.”
“What if we have no Alliance?”
“That is bad. The level is lower. The level is actually determined by the ruling Council’s court. It is somewhat arbitrary, changeable.”
“Where does Paswalda come into this? How does he profit?” asked Donny.
“When you come up for auction, he will be paid 10% of the price for each of you for providing you. That is after your debt comes out.”
“But a lot of us, most of us, paid for our trip here!”
/> “Can you prove this?”
“No.”
“By the law here, you will have to argue this in court. But even if the court does believe you, it makes no difference. Unless you can prove you can pay your debt or can earn it, you are sold. Everyone must pay their own way. Ignorance of the law is not taken into account. It is irrelevant.”
Simone left with Dieter, and Donny and Helkmid talked as Helkmid provided some food and drink. Donny experimented until he found some he liked. Donny, as usual, was full of questions. He wanted to know what was the power source on Torroxell.
“There’s a mixture that feeds into one grid.”
“But what kind? How is it generated?”
“Well the Priskya insisted on sustainable energy and demanded no pollution. They also subsidized it so what they wanted was done. There’s solar and wind power in the smallest centres and hydroelectric power on the main rivers. There are also wind turbines and solar panels in the cities. What power do you have?”
“Well we also have hydroelectric where I come from and I know these others. We also have coal, ethanol, lightning and tidal.”
“What are those? The Translator does not know.”
Donny thought and then described them. He then went on to describe nuclear power stations and then realized Helkmid had gone still. “What’s wrong?”
“This power is by splitting the most minute particle that life is made up of?”
“Yes.”
“It produces enormous power?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have many of these?’
“Yes, hundreds.”
“Donny this is madness. It will destroy your world. The waste produced will poison your world. It will sicken all life.”
“Yes we know. But the people that build them get very rich from it. They don’t care. They lie and discredit the scientists and others who try to explain what will happen. They don’t live anywhere near the power stations themselves. And they have enormous amounts of money with which to bribe and influence politicians; the people who govern. Also the people who govern want the weapons that come from this process. So they lie too.”
“You have nuclear weapons?”
“Yes.”
“Donny this is terrible. Your world cannot survive this. If the weapons do not kill you the waste will. Other People have got to this point and wiped themselves out. How long have you had this power?”
Donny thought. “I’m not sure.”
“Have there been accidents?”
“Yes, several. Some were really bad. Two bad meltdowns were caused by natural disasters. One country had a couple of bad earthquakes that caused a lot of contamination and one country had an earthquake that tipped a nuclear power station into a lake. My country has this power too. And there are alternatives. It wasn’t necessary to use this method. But the combination of incredibly wealthy people and corrupt or stupid politicians is just too much. Some of the scientists were paid to lie too. You ought to hear my parents on this. It’s one of the reasons my parents were so keen to get here. My parents say that by the time enough people realize the danger, it will be too late. ”
“Your parents are right,” said Helkmid sadly.
“But that’s another problem,” said Donny. What are we going to do about Paswalda? I mean what can we do?” asked Donny who was only just coming to grips with this now. “I know! I’ll go and get Sarah and Alan.”
Donny ran off and returned with Sarah, Dan and Alan having explained what Helkmid had said.
“You have to let him check you out first for his research.” Donny informed the bemused three.
As each went through the tests, Simone brought them up to date with what Helkmid had told them. This gelled with the unease that Sarah had had. But first there was another problem. After checking all three, Helkmid said,
“You two are fine but you are not.” He looked at Alan. “Several of your organs are under severe stress and close to failing.”
“Yes I know,” said Alan. “Lungs, pancreas, liver and heart, I presume.” Sarah quickly told Helkmid what the functions of these organs were. Helkmid added the circulatory system to the list.
Donny burst into tears and hugged Alan.
“Oh Donny I’m sorry. No one lives forever and I don’t mind. I couldn’t afford to buy the 3D Printed organs and am low on the transplant lists for transplants because of my age and lifestyle and the multiple organs I would need and didn’t really want all the hassle of the awful anti-rejection medication I would have to take. This way, my kids will have a bit of money when I shove off and in the meantime I’ll live every day like it might be my last and enjoy life.”
Donny looked up at Helkmid. “Can’t you treat him? I’ll work for you to pay. I don’t mind the messes. I used to clean up my Granddad. It was our secret. He didn’t want anyone to know.”
Helkmid looked at Alan. “You could have treatment in little bits and pieces when there are gaps in treatment schedules. When we start treatment, we don’t know how long it will take for the full treatment. You would have to stay here and wait just in case we finish earlier than we have allowed for. So long as Donny cleans up the Machines. He does it very well. You must not tell others though. We don’t make this offer often. We do the full treatments overnight. If you make sure you are both here very early in the morning. You see we allow an hour each to clean the Machines and Donny does it faster than that which would give you some more minutes. So with a few minutes one day and a few minutes another it will buy you time and start to heal you. It only takes the Machines a minute or so to hook you up once they have your profile. ”
Alan, who had listened to the descriptions of what the Machines could do, was stunned. Nothing made him want to live like facing imminent death and then being offered a way out. Humbly, he thanked Helkmid and accepted the offer. He later that night set his alarm calculating hours not the real time. Torroxell’s day was divided into 28 segments and was just under 30 hours. The night was fairly short, only nine hours, because it was just before midsummer in the Southern Hemisphere but the days, at 19 hours long, were very very long.
They still had not been contacted. Alan had heard Simone’s worries over what Helkmid had told her. He was now very concerned too. This looked suspicious. Surely they hadn’t come all this way on a lie. Some first contact this was turning out to be. Still, Sarah was onto it. He smiled, he had a lot of confidence in her.
Day Three
Alan’s confidence was not misplaced. Sarah had realised the probable truth and was preparing to act. She thought the situation was appalling and getting worse. She needed to find solutions, and fast. The diplomats were back at the large assembly hall where it appeared some type of government was. That’s if their Translators were right, if they had asked the right questions, if they had been understood and if they had been answered correctly. They had no way of knowing. And that was a lot of ifs.
Sarah looked over in frustration at Mathew who was sucking up to one of the three white Aliens that looked vaguely like emperor penguins. They towered over him. She didn’t recognise any of them. Mathew had once again acquired one of their precious hired-with-no-way-to-pay-for Translators. The man was insufferable.
“I don’t understand him. How can he go about life as if there’s nothing wrong? Does he not realise how much trouble we are in?”
“I think he either doesn’t or he’s looking for someone like you to solve it.” answered Dan looking sympathetically at Sarah and thinking. No, Sarah was too straight up to comprehend the way a political animal like Mathew understood reality. He saw that Sarah’s problem was that being an idealist, she could not understand people like Mathew. She thought she could reason with him. Dan knew this was a waste of time. There was no reasoning with him. He added,
“Those Ridianit talking to Mathew are lawyers or the equivalent for what passes for those here.
“Right,” said Sarah and walked down the steps towards them. Dan and Alan glanced at each other
and followed.
Sarah waited at the polite distance, turning her Translator onto the ‘wish to speak’ purple colour with the patient, slow ‘not urgent’ pulse. Mathew glared at her. She ignored him.
Bored with Mathew, the Ridianit, Iwygin, noticed the creature that had made Mathew so angry yesterday. It had seen them talking loudly and had been told they were disagreeing. This might be interesting.
It looked towards Sarah, switching on the ‘query’ pulse. Sarah indicated with the ‘my thanks’ pulse, looked up and began. She had been thinking hard.
“You may be aware that we suspect we were brought to Torroxell under false pretences.”
The Ridianit, Iwygin, signalled, “Yes”.
“Please inform me if I am mistaken in my understanding. The trader Paswalda, that transported us here, told us we were coming here on a diplomatic visit, and that it had been asked to transport us here. It told us we would be guests. Our understanding of this word ‘guests’ is that we would be greeted on arrival, fed, accommodated and looked after by the People that had invited us. In our culture, this would often then lead to the hosts being invited back to the visitor’s planet under a similar understanding. Do my words make sense?”
“They do.” It was well aware of this.
“No one has greeted us, contacted us or contacted where we are staying. Is this usual? If we had been invited here?”
“No.”
“Is it reasonable to assume we were not invited?”
“Yes.”
Sarah had expected this but it still felt like she had been punched in the gut. She continued,
“Now I suspect/have been told, that the Trader is a slaver. That we all collectively owe a huge amount of money we do not have and that, because of this, we are in danger of being sold into slavery by this Trader. If that happens, the Trader will be paid a sum of money for each of us, that is far in excess of what it cost to bring us here. This, despite us paying dearly to transport 400 extra people here.”
“So I understand.”
“I believe this is all legal.”
“Yes. You appear to have been deceived. You are not the first.”
“What are our options to help ourselves?”
“What is it that you want to achieve?”
“Ideally to be able first to accommodate and feed ourselves while repaying our debts and then to be able to travel home. If we could legally reduce our debts, or were able to earn money, that would help. But we do not know what we can and can’t do and what our rights are. Are we correct in our understanding from one of your colleagues that different Races have different rights?”
“That is correct. As an unallianced, unrecognised race, you have few rights.”
“Then how can we earn or otherwise get rights, to at least be able to negotiate on our own behalf. And how do we achieve the right to work and earn money?” Sarah noticed Dan and Alan ‘escorting’ Mathew away from the helpful Ridianit. Iwygin continued,
“You must find sponsors who would speak and negotiate on your behalf. You cannot do this yourselves. You would not be granted an audience.”
“Yes we did try, but the Civil Order Department told us we could not even make an appointment. We did not understand why.”
Alan and Dan were back. Excusing the interruption, Sarah quickly explained to them.
“Who would be likely to sponsor us or negotiate for us? Initially to get us the right to work?” asked Dan. “I am aware that if People listen to a problem/plea for help, then often this indicates a willingness to assist. Would you assist us, if only with education and advice?”
“I would,” Iwygin replied. “And there are some things you should consider,” it said and proceeded to outline some strategies.
“Would you be able to come tonight and offer advice?” asked Sarah. Iwygin agreed and they arranged a time and place.
Iwygin went back to its apartment and started to organise its notes. It was interested in the reactions of these little creatures when they discovered just how bad a mess they were in. Slavery was inevitable. This was fascinating. Also these were leader types; high functioning and high ego. Such people had a hard time coping with impending slavery and adapting to the reality. They would kick up a fuss. They would fight very hard to avoid slavery. They would not accept it meekly; either the slavery or the inevitability of it.
This was very good timing. It would make a great study on Interplanetary Law and problem solving of First Contact Species. This could be worth recognition. When it had proceeded to explain what rights it could negotiate for them and what ways they could improve their immediate situation their reactions were revealing. They didn’t like the option of selling their children themselves, while they were still the legal owners of them. Interesting. Each two children could have freed one adult. They rejected that suggestion with distaste and repugnance. A Race that nurtured and valued their offspring. Not something Iwygin really understood. It did not approve of it either. Its Race did not hold such attitudes. It was counter-productive to nurture they believed. Offspring needed to earn their place in civilized society not just be granted it.