The screen, had turned on to reveal mostly a torrent of small bubbles in the water outside. Martha's voice was heard vaguely echoing distantly in other parts of the ship, warning anyone else on it that flight was imminent. Another screen lit up, but with a large dark mass in it that looked like a misshapen rock.
"This ship is capable of disguise, and that's our current one. Nice rendition of a meteor, eh? I believe we even made some of your local newspapers when we arrived."
Brittany's eyes rounded on the computer as she recalled Jan telling her about the meteor that disintegrated just before it would have caused widespread disaster. "There were other UFO sightings last week. You didn't hide yourself in the ocean immediately?"
"That wasn't us. That was Jorran's captain being stupid. Watch the screens, I'm switching to a cloud disguise for the takeoff. Less conspicuous, since rocks are known to drop out of space to the surface of the planet, but not the reverse. And you'll be able to see through it, while anyone else will merely see a dense cloud‑for a millisecond, just long enough for them to discount it."
The middle, larger screen revealed the break to the surface of the water, while the smaller screen showed a cloud hovering over
the ocean. Another screen came on, showing a bottom view, and the ocean quickly became an entire view of the planet from the sky that steadily shrunk in size as it was surrounded by black space. The main screen now showed the moon steadily growing larger.
Brittany was beyond speech at that point. Had she just been taken off the planet with no hope of being returned to it? Or were these screens she was viewing mere computer‑simulated special effects, made to look real?
Chapter Thirty
DON'T BACKTRACK ON ME, GIRL," MARTHA SAID IN A sharply annoyed tone, somehow reading Brittany's mind just from her expression. "I've delayed Dalden getting here with the takeoff. He hates takeoffs, hates spaceships, hates space travel, and will be glued to a chair right now just as tightly as you are. His planet is not high‑tech, if you haven't gathered that by now, but since they've been discovered, they've been forced to deal with the rest of the universe, which wants one of their resources. Now, you were accepting everything you've been told for a moment. Don't revert back to thinking we're trying to pull one over on you.
"I've seen space movies, Martha, and seen how they do the special effects to make them look real."
"And I thought Tedra wrote the book on being stubborn,"
Martha mumbled, then, in a more perky voice, asked, "How would you like to walk on the moon?"
"Are you out of your mind?"
A chuckle. "There you go mistaking me for a person again. The more apt comment would be 'out of your motherboard.'" Another chuckle. "No, it won't take but a moment to landthere, we've landed. And we happen to have an emergency exit here in the Control Room that I'm opening‑"
"Wait! Don't do that! Don't I need a spacesuit? The atmosphere isn't breathable‑"
"Not to worry, kiddo. This battleship is capable of landing on a planet, no matter what it's made of, and creating its own air. I've released a domed shield around the ship and filled it with a breathable substance. Go ahead, the platform extending out from the door works like an elevator to lower you to the surface, currently in single‑person length. It can be further extended to accommodate up to thirty people comfortably. The enclosing handrails will retract as soon as it touches ground, so you can get off."
Brittany stepped to the door‑way. She didn't step on the short platform. Some twenty or thirty feet below was the surface‑of the moon. She began to laugh, and only half hysterically. The moon, and she was within mere feet of it. A few rocky bumps, a few dents, but otherwise a flat gray surface lit almost white by the overhead lights on the dome. Beyond was infinite black space‑the sun didn't reach this side of the moon. But inside, the dome was well-lit. It was a large dome, mammoth. It encompassed a really big ship.
"You're not going outside?"
"No, I'd rather our astronauts hold that distinction. They went through hell to get up here, while you make it seem like mere child's play."
"Sweetie, you're comparing apples and oranges. This battleship, which makes this seem like child's play to you, was designed by a people that have been in existence for more than twelve million years. How many years have your people been evolving? Look at your own age of inventions. In just a few hundred years, just about
all the known improvements of your world came into being: electricity, flight, mass communication, convenient travel, and so forth. Look at your history and what you had available prior to these inventions. And imagine what you will create a thousand years from now. Your people are progressing normally; they are just still young compared to some of the worlds in other solar systems. If it's any consolation, there are other worlds out there younger than yours that haven't advanced nearly as far as yours has."
Brittany glanced back at the console. "Really?"
"Most definitely. Take Jorran's planet, Century 111, for instance. Medieval in government, advancement, and mentality~ They've been discovered, could buy modernization, but prefer their feudal way of life and a government that favors only a select few, the ruling house. And until those High Kings get toppled in revolution, nothing win change there. Another thousand years could pass and they'd still be medieval.
"Jorran is one of those High Kings of Century III, but the only one without his own kingdom," Martha continued. "It was his intention, with the rods he stole from the planet Sunder, to make your country his kingdom first, then your entire world. He might have succeeded. The Sunderans haven't reached the space age yet, either, so they couldn't track Jorran down to retrieve their rods. We just happened to be passing by on our way home and picked up their distress call‑and knew Jorran for the jerk he is, so we decided to put canceled to his plans. Our good deed for the century, you could call it."
"So you didn't have to come after him?"
"No, indeed. But by the time the proper authorities could have been notified to pursue him, he would have been long gone. And even if they could have found him eventually, the damage would have been done. We already had him on tracking, were able to follow him, were the only ones who had a chance of stopping him before
ore he ruined too many lives." "And Sha‑Ka'an?" Brittany said. "How does it fit in the age of development?"
"Sha‑Ka'an is unique. It's not really barbaric, that's just a convenient name the modern worlds give it. It's perfected some crafts beyond manufactured quality without the pollution of factories, has an ancient formula for making the strongest steel ever created that even a laser can't penetrate, has palatial‑like architecture in some of its cities, regulates birth control as well as sexual aggression, treats gold like you would common metals‑"
"How can they regulate sexual aggression?"
Martha chuckled. "With another thing unique to their planet, the dhaya plant. The juice made from it will put even the strongest sex drive on temporary hold, and no amount of stimulation can break through its effect until it wears off naturally. In wine form it will prevent pregnancy."
Brittany frowned. "Why would they want to do away with sexual aggression?"
"Hold up, you've gotten the wrong impression. Dhaya Juice is only taken in certain situations, when the warriors go off to hunt alone‑and when they raid."
Brittany made a face. "Are we getting to the part that gives them their 'barbarian' label?"
"You betcha‑at least, part of it. There's a difference, though, from what you're thinking. You hear the word raid and associate it with killing, pillage, mayhem. That's not what Sha‑Ka'ani warriors are about. They don't go to war with each other. There are a lot of countries, each with their own leaders, but all in all, they consider themselves one. Raiding for them is sport, something fun to do. They'll go in, take something from their neighbor, try to keep it, but if the neighbor raids and retrieves it, they'll shrug and say well done."
"So it's just a game to them?"
"That's one wa
y to put it. As for the other reasons for the label they wear, I've already mentioned it's a cultural thing, the way they view things and view themselves, the antiquated laws they uphold. These things differ slightly per country, yet one thing is universal
on the planet. Warriors treat each other as equals, but treat their women like children."
"Excuse me?"
"You have enough to assimilate for now without getting into the things that still drive my Tedra nuts. And Dalden will be here in about five seconds. He'll be glad to know you no longer think you're dreaming."
"Like children?" Brittany persisted. "You were joking, right?"
No answer, and the main door to the Control Room slid open to reveal seven feet of very annoyed male.
Chapter Thirty‑one
DALDEN WAS REALLY ANGRY, THOUGH BRITTANY WAS A BIT surprised that she could actually tell that, since it wasn't revealed in his expression. It was more that she sensed it, or maybe just that she was expecting it, after Martha had warned that he was annoyed.
He walked into the room, took her hand, and started walking out, dragging her with him. He didn't pause as he told the computer, "You have interfered with a warrior and his lifemate. You know that is unacceptable, Martha."
"Beneficial interference is acceptable," Martha disagreed. "Besides, since when do I ask permission when something needs doing? It's not as if there's a way to stop me, or that anyone using common sense would want to, when my actions calculate all Probables beforehand."
"Is there not?"
"Not what?"
"A way to stop you."
"Tedra would never agree to pull my plug," Martha replied in smirking tones.
"My mother is still answerable to my father. Would he hesitate?
"Now just a minute ... Dalden, come back here!"
He didn't, nor was it necessary for him to even stop, since Martha's voice followed them down a wide corridor and into an elevatorlike cubicle whose door closed, then immediately opened again to reveal a different corridor, this one with a slight curve to it. There had been no movement of the cubicle; at least, Brittany had felt no movement of the thing, yet it had apparently transported them elsewhere on the ship ... oh, God, she really was starting to, believe‑everything.
"It's a good thing, actually, that it's going to take us nearly three months to get home." Martha's voice continued to follow them from each wall monitor they passed, every twelve feet or so along the corridor. "Plenty of time for you to settle into your commitment and possibly even get over some of the anticipated hurdles.'
Mentioning expected problems didn't work to stir Dalden's curiosity, though it sure did Brittany's. He said merely, "Warriors have long memories."
"More's the pity," Martha mumbled, and then said, "It worked, by the way, which is the bottom line, if you haven't figured that out yet. You certainly weren't getting anywhere in the convincing department. And what's more important: that she accept what you are and where you come from, or that she continue to think you were lying to her, which was going to put a big dent in the recent bonding you did?"
He stopped at that point to look down at Brittany, wanting confirmation. "Do you?"
She knew what he was asking her, and although she would have liked to relieve his mind, since he did seem to be worried about whether she believed them or not, she had to consider her own peace of mind first. And there were other explanations, albeit elab
orate, incredibly expensive ones, yet ones much more palatable than that she was traveling into deep space. When she thought of what it must have cost to create a studio big enough to give her the impression that she was looking out at the surface of the moon when she'd looked through that door ... it simply boggled the mind, the effort these people were going to in order to fool her.
Or maybe it wasn't just her; maybe there were other people being put through the same program. She'd hate to think all this trouble was being wasted on just one person, such subtle details, a new view behind every door, out every window. Was she a test subject? Had Dalden blown it by getting involved with her when he shouldn't have? Martha had certainly made enough complaints about that involvement, and enough predictions that it just wouldn't work, to stop it before it got started, But Dalden got involved anyway...
"No," Brittany said, causing Martha to make a snorting sound of disgust, and Dalden to frown in confusion. She added tonelessly, "That's not to say I don't think that the reason for this elaborate deception isn't for my own good, which is why I'm going to accept it for now and trust that at least your emotions are real‑"
"What emotions?" Martha cut in. "Don't tell me you haven't noticed yet that he doesn't have any."
"Excuse me? Everyone has emotions. You told me yourself that he was annoyed."
"Actually, that was an understatement on my part. He was furious, still is, but you'll never see a Sha‑Ka'ani warrior stomping around mad to prove it. A Ba‑Har‑ani warrior, maybe. The ones from his country pride themselves on absolute calm under any circumstances, which means they've done away with the more common emotions that might interfere with that calm."
"Sure, if you say so," Brittany replied.
That got a chuckle out of Martha, but Dalden was more concerned with her "no." "I fail to understand. How can you not believe, yet be accepting?"
"It's called humoring, Dalden," Martha put in. "In other words,
while she's not going to give any credit to what she sees or hears, she's going to smile and go along with it all. She's decided it doesn't matter. Actually, she does know better; she'd just prefer to decide it doesn't matter."
It was absolutely uncanny, the way Martha could analyze and dissect someone's thoughts and motives from just a few spoken words, like a psychiatrist guessing right the first time around. Brittany had to keep in mind that these people had probably done this before, knew just what to expect, and so had answers for everything already prepared. But given enough thought, she could come up with answers for everything as well, from a different, more believable slant.
She just couldn't come up with a good reason why she was being put through this program. Some not so good reasons, yes, but not a really good one. If she were a scientist or someone in a position of power, then yes, it might be for national security reasons or something similar, to see if she could be tricked into revealing secrets or joining their cause or whatever. But she was just an average person, so why would they need to mess with her mind? What, after all, could she do for them or tell them, if they did manage to get her to believe what they were trying to?
"You do not dispute what Martha said," Dalden finally remarked. "Is it true?"
"That I'm humoring you?" Brittany replied uncomfortably. I prefer to think of it as keeping my sanity, so how 'bout we
give it a rest for today, okay? I've been fed enough for one sitting, more than I can stomach. I'm here, I'll listen, I'll
probably even ask questions. And I'll ooh and aah when I should. But‑no more today.
I'm mentally exhausted, and stressed beyond coping."
"She's only slightly exaggerating, Dalden, but she could use some form of relaxant‑either a round or two of lovemaking, or a visit to the massager unit in the ship's gym. My Tedra swore by the latter, until she got introduced to the former. In our Brittany's case, though, I'd say the latter for the time being would be more appropriate. No point in testing her resolve at the moment on what
she's going to believe or not. And since you are part and parcel of what gets believed or not, you'll avoid any hurt pride on your end by practicing hands‑off for now."
The blush that had started with that "round or two of lovemaking was gone by the time Martha finished. Brittany groaned inwardly. She had already considered how Dalden would feel about her disbelief if he believed all this, but she hadn't given it any in‑depth thought, really‑until now. He'd see it as a lack of trust, obviously, which could cause a really big breach between them, and one that wouldn't be crossable unless one of them changed opinio
ns.
She didn't want to lose him, but damn it all, had she even had him to begin with, or was that just part of the program, too? It was beyond comprehensible that she might have been seduced, her emotions deliberately tied up in knots, all as part of the program or whatever the hell it was these people were trying to accomplish.
"I'm reading higher levels of upset, Dalden. Take her to the massager unit now."
Chapter Thirty‑two
BRITTANY HAD NEVER EXPERIENCED ANYTHING QUITE like it. She'd splurged and treated herself to a fifty‑dollar massage once, after the Completion of one of the more grueling jobs she'd worked on. She'd had the kinks worked out of her body in a most Painful manner and had come away from that experience thinking that massages sucked, that causing more pain to forget about current pain just didn't work for her. Yet by the next day, all those kinks had been gone. This was nothing like that. This was total, 100 percent relaxation, an absolute pleasure, and she was sorry when the lid finally opened, asking her silently to get out.
She'd been afraid to get into it. It reminded her of a coffin, or more precisely, a sarcophagus, since it was shaped like a body. There were quite a few of them in the large gym, and dozens of other exercise machines that she'd never seen the like of before either. She knew all the current best‑of‑the‑best equipment available, yet nothing in this gym was familiar.
As for the massager, Dalden had assured her that she would enjoy the experience. He also complained that he couldn't demonstrate it for her, since they didn't make them in models long enough to fit him. Last, he assured her that if she wanted out of it before it was finished with her, she need only press up on the lid to have it open.
She'd had no trouble breathing after the top had closed on her, sealing her inside the box. That had really been her main hesitation about getting in. And then hundreds of little rollers and skinpressers moved over her body from head to toe, above and below her, in a gentle, thorough massage. She had felt the tension leaving her body, the stress flowing out with it, felt so utterly loose and relaxed that she wasn't sure she'd be able to stand up.