TALES OF GOR #4

By Mara

(With great appreciation to John Norman for the rich world he created)

     "Someone’s coming," Captain Ingram said, in his usual calm, matter of fact, way.

     Ordinarily those would be mild enough words, but now they caused my pulse to race, and my throat to clench. "What do you mean, someone’s coming?" I managed to choke out.

     The Captain didn’t bother to answer. He wasn’t given to unnecessary words, and he apparently thought he’d said all that was needed. I took a breath to calm myself, I’m not usually the high strung type myself. I have a Doctorate in zoology and had successfully competed to be chosen for this shuttle mission. I had never foreseen this outcome though, who could have? Something had gone terribly wrong. To experience a major catastrophe in space and live is a miracle in itself, and I suspected a lot of the credit went to Captain Ingram. Thank God he’d survived the crash. I glanced sideways at the other two survivors, both men were payload specialist like myself. Wanna be astronauts. I knew I was less intimidated by this primitive place than they were. My field of study had taken me to remote places, and with my rural back ground I knew meat didn’t always come in cellophane. They were scholarly men, brilliant even, but ill suited to take on the rough conditions we found here. I wasn’t sure where here was. The man that might have been able to explain hadn’t survived. Clearly, we weren’t on earth. Oh, it looked enough like earth during the day, a rolling temperate grassland, but at night the three moons hanging in the sky dispelled any such thoughts. It had been almost two weeks since we’d crashed and the broken shell of the shuttle lay like the bleaching bones of some great beast. The Captain came down the rope ladder from his vantage point atop the hull. Shielding my eyes I could see the figures approach over the plain. As they drew closer my attention riveted to the great beast they rode. I’m a zoologist after all, and had been on the mission to study the effects of reduced gravity on animal fertility. There were four animals, huge creatures, over six feet at the shoulder, with tawny fur. As they got closer I could see several rows of sharp teeth, clearly carnivorous animals. It wasn’t, of course, unknown for man to domesticate predators. The dog for instance, but a predator this size would be likely to look upon man as prey. A man might as well saddle and mount a tiger. Who would even contemplate such a thing? With that thought my attention finally turned to the men and I actually took a step back. They were big, fierce looking men in red tunics. I found myself classifying them, as I had their mounts, as predators. I scrutinized them closely, realizing that with parallel evolution, two different species could look remarkably similar. But no, I felt sure they were human, though not like any human males I’d ever seen. Then I saw the two women trotting beside the animals, neck leashed to the pommels of the saddles. They were sleek looking, and in such brief garments they might as well have been naked . Their extremely short, poncho like garments were tied at the waist, leaving an opening from thigh to waist and down their side. From the sway of their breast as they moved and from the slit in the side, I could see they wore no undergarments.

     The Captain was beside me now, he held a spear he’d earlier fashioned from piping and a knife. With his two weeks growth of beard, he looked for all the world like a cave man. If it wasn’t for his hair, which had originally been a flat top, and was still quite short, the illusion would be complete. He set the spear behind him, but ready to hand, against the hull. I noted that the other men stuck close to the cargo door. The ship was a mangled wreck and offered little real protection.

     "Human?" The Captain asked.

     "Yes, I think so. But the animals are...are," I searched for the word, " alien".

They were in front of us now and the leader lifted his hand in a gesture of greeting that would have been instantly recognized by any culture of earth as a greeting. They didn’t seem particularly surprised by the sight of us or our ship. Which made me wonder if they knew of such things, or had seen such before. How could that be? They seemed barbarians, capable of producing only crude metal weapons. Then I noted there was nothing crude about their weapons. From what I could see they appeared to be made of fine steel. Each had a short sword, and a knife with an ornate handle on his belt. Several spears were hooked to their saddles. The Captain returned the gesture of greeting and the man slipped from his mount with practiced ease, landing lightly for such a big man.

     He spoke and the words sounded foreign, but not alien. They seemed vaguely European.

     Captain Ingram shook his head. "I don’t suppose you speak English?"

     The man barked what was clearly a command and one of the woman hurried forward and knelt on the ground beside him where he pointed. She knelt with her back straight, but her eyes lowered. The man spoke to the woman, and to my utmost surprise, the woman spoke in perfect English.

     "My Master greets you."

     Captain Ingram, looked about as surprised as I’d ever seen him, but quickly recovered and said, "Give him my greetings in return."

     My mined raced. They were plainly humans just like us. Had earth humans been brought here, or perhaps visa versa? Who or what could have done such a thing? I came out of my revery when I realized I was being closely scrutinized. The man leisurely looked me up and down in an assessing manner that I’d never experienced before. I doubted if any man of earth would have looked at me like that even if they didn’t know I was watching. I suddenly became very conscience of the picture I presented. In the heat I had ripped the sleeves from my jumpsuit and cut off the legs, shorter than I’d intended, but it hadn’t seemed a big deal, until now. I’d also not paid much attention to the front zipper, and had lowered it a bit for comfort. Without conscience thought I clutched at the collar of my jumpsuit, dragging the lapels together.

     The man spoke again, and the woman at his feet translated the words.

     "My master knows someone in Port Kar that might be interested in the your slave. He proposes a trade. Me for her."

     It took a moment to realize that she spoke of me, that he wanted to trade for me like you would a horse.

     Captain Ingram shook his head, "No," he said simply.

     I realized I held my breath, and exhaled. I couldn’t believe the conversation, men discussing my possession.

     The man drew his sword with a quick, sure gesture. The sound had a nerve jangling quality, like fingernails on a chalk board. I froze in place. Captain Ingram’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t move.

     "Kajira canjellne."

     "Slave girl challenge," the woman translated, looking frightened.

     Slave girl challenge? He meant to fight for me?

     Without taking his eyes from the barbarian, Captain Ingram reached behind him for his make shift spear. My muscles finally unfroze and I put my hand on his arm.

     "No," I said, taking a steadying breath. "Don’t."

     "Step back," the Captain ordered.

     "I won’t let you do this," I told him.

     The Captain actually smiled, not much of a smile, but still the biggest one I could remember seeing from him. Plainly my words were absurd, since I couldn’t stop him.

     "You’re crew, I won’t let him just take you," he said, as he eyed his opponent.

     "He will kill you, and take me," I pointed out. Trying to sound reasonable in an unreasonable situation.

     Captain Ingram had been a test pilot, a man use to taking calculated risks. He seemed to be weighting the odds, and considering his options. I had great admiration for him. The code he lived by was exacting, and black and white, no gray areas. He put his crew before himself.

     "Their women don’t look ill treated, do they?" I asked. Trying to reassure myself as well as convince him. It was true though. They looked vital and well fed.

     He seemed to come to a decision and let his hand fall back to his side. The other crew members needed him and could be in danger if he chose to fight. He nodded and let me step past him. I didn’t doubt that he would take my place if he could, but they didn’t want him. I was apparently a sellable commodity on this world.

     I stepped forward before my nerve failed. I truly didn’t want my crew mates to die for me. It would be the same in the end, and these savage looking men would have me. I’m nothing if not a fast learner, and I sank to my knees before the man with the bared sword. It seemed a natural enough thing to do, and my trembling legs barely held me anyway. I felt as close to fainting as I ever had in my life. He said something to me, but of course I didn’t understand him.

     "Give him your hands, wrist crossed," the woman said.

     I did so, staring up at him. I watched in terror and flinched as his sword moved toward me, but he merely tapped the top of my head and I understood he wanted me to lower it between my arms. My confusion and fright must have been evident. I moaned as I felt a strap securely bind my wrist. He snapped his fingers and I needed no translation for that. I struggled to my feet, half crouched over in my fear, but his sword under my chin forced me upright, my head high. He sheathed his sword, but drew his knife. I closed my eyes as he made short work of my clothes. I couldn’t ever remember being naked outdoors, but he stripped me casually. It really seemed the least of my worries and I resisted the urge to try and cover myself with my bound hands. It would be both useless and futile. He kept a long lead from my wrist and fixed it to the pommel of his saddle. I was glad I wasn’t neck leashed, as were the other two women. To be dragged by the neck could be fatal. I took a deep breath as the man swung into the saddle. I had no intention of being dragged at all. I’d run cross country in high school and still took regular runs. On the leaders signal the party started to move out at a brisk clip. I paced myself as best I could, controlling my breathing, concentrating on my stride. I was glad of the physical exertion, it took my mind off my predicament.

     The day wore on and sweat poured from me. I’d begun to falter when we finally stopped at a stream. It had been late afternoon when we’d encountered the men, and the light was now fading. Taking a my cue from the other women, I threw myself onto my stomach on the bank. I couldn’t cup the water with my bound hands so I lowered my face to the stream, drinking in the cold, sparkling water. I took care not to drink to much, but dunked my head for good measure.

     I lay on the bank next to the woman who had spoken English, and I tried to question her. "Where are we?"

     She shook her head, clearly frightened, and whispered, "We mustn’t speak in a language unknown to Masters."

She refused to say more, and looked so terrified that I gave up the attempt. Close to total exhaustion I closed my eyes and lay in the soft, fragrant grass of the stream bank. I must have dozed because darkness had fallen when I again opened my eyes. The light of the three moons cast their unfamiliar light. I could smell roasting meat and came up onto my knees, noting that the leash on my wrist now ran to a stake that also tethered the animals. My eyes were drawn to the fire where the others were gathered. After awhile my captor rose from his place and approached me with a plate of food. He crouched before me and took a small piece of meat with his fingers and brought it toward me. I reached for it with my bound hands and he drew it back. I lowered my hands and looked at him, my eyes actually getting hot with tears. If he was trying to torment me, he was doing a damn good job. He offered the meat again, but I didn’t reach for it, unsure what he wanted until he brought it to my mouth. The beast expected me to eat from his hand. We’d been conserving food from the shuttle, and the physical exertion of the day had left me ravenous. It would be stupid to refuse the food because I objected to the way it was offered, so I delicately took it in my teeth, careful not to so much as graze his fingers. I closed my eyes, savoring the hot, juicy meat. I chewed and swallowed with relish. He offered me more small bites before he put the plate on the ground and allowed me to eat from it. He sat cross legged, watching me, and when I finished he moved the plate to one side. I watched as he poured liquid from a flask into a small cup. He brought it to my lips, but the stuff tasted so foul that I turned my head after the first sip. His other hand anchored in my hair and he yanked my head back around, again bringing the cup to my lips. I didn’t know what was in the cup, but surely since he’d just fed me he didn’t mean to poison me. Clearly, one way or the other, he meant for me to drink it, so I swallowed it, not wanting him to feel further coercion necessary. He put the cup aside and turned back to look at me. Something about that look caused a fresh wave of fear slam into me. I started scooting back away from him, trying to put some distance between us, but he caught my ankle. I struggled to pull away, but didn’t kick at him, even in my fear I knew I didn’t want to face the consequences of doing that. He moved back, pulling me with him by my ankle, and I slid across the cool grass until my hands were pulled over my head and the leash on my wrist jerked taunt. He straddled me, his powerful thighs on either side of my hips. I had worked on a project tagging lions in Africa and he reminded me of such. His strength effortless, and his smooth muscles so close to the skin. I stopped struggling, giving into the inevitable as he put his hands upon me. He lingered where ever interested him, seeming to take stock of his new acquisition. I’d had lovers before of course, gentle men, concerned to please me, and nothing like this man. Still, I could recognize he wasn’t out to hurt me and calmed somewhat. He arranged me to suit himself, his hands sure, and in no way tentative. He wanted me, and would have me, as simple as that. When he finished with me he rose then returned with a blanket that he tossed against me before going to seek his own sleep. I pulled the blanket around me against the chill of the night and rolled to my stomach. I cradled my chin on my arms and look up at the bright, white moons. It was all so strange and fantastic. I wondered if I would find any answers in the place called Port Kar. I supposed I should be feeling anguish and despair, but truthfully I felt exhilarate. Such an adventure. If I wasn’t an adrenalin junkie I would have stayed at my teaching post. I never would have entered a field of study where some of your subjects can eat you in the first place. I remembered a professor, my mentor, who never inquired after the health of my body, only after the health of my soul. "And how is your soul today Ginny?" she’d ask. I smiled, thinking of my answer, "My soul is just fine Lydia, despite where my body finds itself, my soul is still my own."

     I stretched and wiggled my toes into the grass. My hand fell onto a patch of earth, or whatever it was called here, and I closed my fist on a hand full of dirt. I let it sift through my fingers while I remembered a line from a poem written long ago, on another world. "Life if real, life is earnest, and the grave is not it’s goal. Dust thou art, to dust returnest, was not spoken of the soul." I cradled my head on my arms and inhaled the clean air, rich with the smell of grass and earth, as I drifted off to sleep.

Mara
Marascribe@hotmail.com