Long View - Zelde M'Tana Part 2

Zelde asked what the difference was, and Polder said, "Those two are armed ships; you're looking at projector turrets." Zelde was still curious-but now they started to climb the Great Khan's ramp, so she didn't ask anything more.

At the top, just as they went inside from bright sunlight, a man met them. Taller than Zelde he was, and wearing a cap with bright metal at the front. His left cheek was tattooed, a design like a round pie with the upper quarter missing-was he a fighter, maybe, with the Uties? Polder said, "One for cargo, First Officer."

Zelde looked him over. Tall, long-faced, with a lot of sandy hair showing gray at the sides-and restless, the way he moved. He said, "Yes. I'm Ragir Parnell. Captain Czer-ner's not aboard yet. But . . . cargo, you say." He looked at Zelde. "This kid, you're sending to the cribs on Iron Hat?"

Polder looked across at the tall man, as though they were the same height. "Don't tell me my job, s.p.a.cer. The alternative was worse." She handed him some papers.

"Authorization. Sign it, and I'm done with her."

He looked at the yellow forms. "Sure, it's legal enough." He scribbled on the top sheet, and then on two more. "I 22.can't leave here at the moment-and I'm short a runner. Do you know where to take her? There's someone on watch at the hold, to check her in."

Laina Polder said, "I do know. I've been to s.p.a.ce once, Parnell-I have two ages, even though they're only twelve years apart. Which hold is it?"

"Portside, Upper." He paused. "Who'd you ship under?" "Rigueres, on the Tamurlaine. I heard-that ship Escaped. If so, it's the first armed ship that ever did.

You know anything?"

"If I did," said Parnell, "I couldn't tell you. So forget it." He frowned-not looking mad, though. "Do you remember who the officers were on your trip?"

Polder nodded. "The First was Monteffial. Farnsworth, Second-he was a cold fish.

And the Third-the only one who ever bothered to talk with us first-trippers, but he was strung so tight he scared me-his name was Tregare."

Parnell shook his head. "I don't know that one-met him once or twice, but we were in opposite cadres at the Slaughterhouse." He cleared his throat. "The s.p.a.ce Academy, that is-I'm sure you've heard the old jokes?"

"Enough to know they're not jokes, Parnell." Polder looked around her. "Even if this area's not monitored, I think we've said enough. Now-Hold, Upper Portside, I think you said?"

"That's right. And if you'd like coffee or anything before you leave, tell the galley I said so."

"My thanks; maybe I will." She nodded. "Let's go, Zelde."

"Just a minute." Zelde looked at the tall man. "What's Iron Hat-and what's a crib?"

With his hand, he covered a cough. "It's her decision; let her tell you."

He turned away. With Polder tugging at her arm, Zelde followed the woman on into the ship. They went down two levels-steep stairs, almost like ladders-to a broad corridor. A few meters along it, beside a door, a guard sat. She had a gun but didn't raise it. Polder said, "Here's another one for you. First Officer Parnell signed her in." She showed the paper and the guard nodded. With a quick touch to Zelde's shoulder, saying, "I wish you better luck than you're likely to get," Polder walked away and climbed the ladder, and was gone.

23.The guard stood. Zelde looked at her-medium height and stocky, with a round face; straight brown hair hung to her shoulders. Zelde couldn't guess her age-except that she was some years past being a kid. The guard said, "Put the suit and sandals on the floor. Then you can go into quarters." When Zelde didn't move, the other moved her gun a little, not quite pointing it. "Come on-don't play games. You won't need clothes in there-n.o.body else does." Zelde shrugged, and obeyed.

The guard opened a peephole and called, "Clear for admission. Inner door closing." She looked and nodded, then opened the door and motioned. Zelde moved past her into a small entry-way with another door barring the other end. The first one closed behind her; the second opened, and she walked forward. Seeing "Portside, Upper" for the first time, she hardly noticed when that door, too, closed.

The place was painted a dingy light brown, and was less well-lit than the corridor.

The ceiling was a little higher than she could have reached, standing, and she guessed the central open area at about twelve paces long and eight wide. Along each side were rows of four-decker bunks; she didn't count them. What caught her eye was that the place was full of women, all different ages and sizes and colors. The guard hadn't lied; none of them had any clothes.

None of them had much hair, either-just stubble, about like Zelde's own head.

Looking at the nearer ones, she saw no sign of fighters' tattooing.

There was some low-voiced talking among several, but Zelde couldn't make out the words. The women closest to her moved aside and a big woman came through the group. Two steps away, she stopped, and looked Zelde up and down.

She wasn't as tall as Zelde, but built heavy, with a lot of muscle to her arms and legs. The stubble of her head was a faded reddish color. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, too small for the rest of her, sagged almost flat.

Zelde waited, wondering if she ought to speak first, and then the woman said, "Another extra-that's all we need. There's nearly sixty of us and only forty bunks- so you'll have to move in with someone. If n.o.body volunteers, I'll a.s.sign it. You got any questions?"

Yeah-she had several. All women and no studs, was it?

24.But the first problem, maybe: "You're boss, are you? How come?"

The woman grinned. Somewhere along the way, she'd lost some teeth. "Want to fight me for it?" She shook her head. "No-don't bother trying. That's not the way it works. I'm boss because I'm top person here from the Underground. So if I was so skinny you could bite me in half, I'd still be boss. Is that all right with you?"

After a bit, Zelde grinned back. "Sure. It wasn't-I'm not the kind has to be tops, can't work for anybody. Just wanted to know, was all." She held out her hand. "I'm Zelde M'tana."

The woman stepped forward and shook hands. "Turk Kestler. Real name's Roseanna, but Turk's been my code name so long, it's all I answer to." She looked closer at Zelde, and reached to run fingers over the short hair above her forehead.

"That looks like tattooing under there-the kind the Wild Children along the coast put on their fighters. Is that what you were?" Zelde nodded, and Turk Kestler said, "d.a.m.n all! I wish we could have got together while we were both on the loose.

There's so much the Underground needs to know. How long since UET caught you?"

"I don't know; I was locked up. Two weeks? Three, maybe?"

"Then you haven't had time to learn much, have you? About how things work under UET. I-"

"Going off Earth, I won't need that. But-" She asked the questions Parnell wouldn't answer.

Without sound, Kestler snarled. "The b.a.s.t.a.r.ds! Lied to us-said we were consigned to Farmer's Dell, where they treat women right!" She shook her head. "Iron Hat's not a real colony, just a mining outpost. Cribs-they keep us shut up someplace, and when a miner makes his quota or whatever, he comes in and one of us spreads for him."

Zelde frowned. "You mean, s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g because we got to?" She thought of Red Ear and Rover Boy, and laughed. "First one tries that on me-"

Turk didn't smile. "You're being stupid. Think they'll give you any kind of chancel Not more than once, they won't."

Looking, Zelde saw she meant it. All right-things were worse than she'd thought.

That didn't mean she gave up, 25.yet. She said, "How long are we in here? You know about that?"

The answer confused her. Six-eight months, Turk said, except it'd really be maybe ten-twelve years. So close to light speed, whatever that was, the Khan rolled up time at nearly twenty to one.

Finally she nodded. "What it comes to, Turk-we're stuck here half a year or more? Just-just us?" Turk squinted at her. "That's right.

Why?" "I'm kind of used to-well, with guys around, more." The older woman shrugged. "Doing without-you'll get used to that, too. One way or the other." She turned and walked away.

Feeling like a strange Kid in a new gang, Zelde moved quietly around the room.

Some nodded to her or said h.e.l.lo; most didn't. It made her nervous, staying ready to speak back or not-this wasn't like the Kids at all. Toward the back of the place she met fewer women; now she looked to see what kind of setup she'd be living with.

In the left corner, the three s.h.i.tters were squatovers, not seats. Next were two spray-bathing closets like the one the Rehab people had put her in; a woman came out of one, walking away still wet, and the line moved forward. Alongside, next-four basins, each with a two-way washing/drinking tap. No towels. A broad opening in the wall, only a hand's-width high with a flap covering it, behind. She pushed the flap back and looked in. No light-a trash chute?

And then a big shelf, waist-high, with a raised edge. And just above it, three openings in the wall. She looked, trying to figure it out.

A hand touched her arm; she turned to face a slim, fragile girl not much older than herself. "That's where the ration packets come out." The voice was soft.

"Twice a day, just exactly one for each of us." For a moment the girl smiled; then her face went solemn.

"Thanks. I hope they got me counted in." Zelde gave her name.

"And I'm Tillya-Tillya Ormetir. You-I heard what Turk said when you first came in. You can bunk with me, if you'd like."

The girl's face-pale-scared, or just natural? She had delicate, little-girl features, and her light brown hair was 26.longer than most here, nearly two centimeters. Well, there was something Zelde could ask about. She did.

Tillya's hand brushed at her forehead. "It's Welfare haircuts-isn't yours? Once a month, and I just missed mine when they took me out to come here. I expect the ship will do it the same, but they haven't yet."

"I wasn't in Welfare." Zelde explained, and the girl's eyes went wide.

"With the Wild Children? But I thought-they said you were savages, maybe cannibals! I-" Her teeth worried a knuckle.

Zelde laughed. "Maybe some are, at that. And I tell you-we do some things, might scare you."

"And you were a fighter with them?"

"Yeah. You sure you still want me bunking with you?"

Now both of Tillya's hands went to Zelde's shoulder. "Oh, yes! You can protect me-and I'll be nice to you!"

Protect, huh? Yeah-always some liked to pick on what couldn't stick up for itself.

Zelde never liked seeing that. And Tillya, now-the only one to step up and explain anything, after Turk walked off. And she looked a little like Horky had, before Horky beefed out so fat. And there weren't any studs, and there weren't gonna be any.

Zelde patted the small hands. "Sure, Tillya. We'll work it out-no big hurry. And thanks for the bunks.p.a.ce."

When the bell rang, Tillya said, "That's chowdown." Lying back to back on the bunk just wide enough to hold them that way, now she and Zelde got up to join the line forming. Turk came over and thumbed at Zelde. "Back of the line. All the way."

Zelde stood her ground. "You telling me to be hind t.i.t in this place?" She shook her head. "I don't take that s.h.i.t, me. You in front of me-some others, okay-not everybody." Turk gestured peace. "Not for keeps. Just until we know they added you on for rations, is all. Then you line up when you get here, like everybody else."

Tense, Zelde still stayed put. "How I know somebody doesn't take mine and say I ain't got one?"

Turk pointed toward the head of the line. Two women stood there, one to each side; they were big, like Turk. "You're looking at my enforcers. You think anyone messes with them?"

27.Tillya pulled at Zelde's arm. "Come on-I'll go to the back with you."

"Don't need to." Zelde patted the girl's head. "Get on up there, get fed. I be along when I get to it."

As Zelde moved back, Turk called to her. "Nothing personal-it's just the way we do things here."

"Sure." And maybe things might change around a little, too!

There was food for her, all right-a flat, oblong packet, hot to the touch but not too hot to hold. The cover came off in two pieces; one was a tool to eat with. The food inside was a brown, mushy paste with grains and chunks in it. It smelled good enough, but didn't have much real taste. A little better than what they'd fed her in Rehab, Zelde decided. When she was done, she put the empty packet down the trash chute and went for a drink of water.

Then she stood in line for a spray-bath. When the lights dimmed, not quite dark but close to it, the women in front of her left the line and headed for the bunks. As she stood, hesitating, one said, "Water's turned off now." So Zelde went and lay beside Tillya.

The girl said, "You-do you want anything?"

"Yeah. Some sleep. Good night-okay?"

"Yes. Good night."

Zelde couldn't sleep, though. She found herself sweating, a cold sweat, and breathing fast. After a while she figured what was doing it-being boxed in, like the cell again.

This was bigger, sure-but a lot more crowded, too. No real room to move around, and no way out. Well, thinking had helped her before, so she thought back. Sure- d.a.m.n she'd slept crowded before and never jittered by it. But she'd always been outdoors a lot, when she wanted, and here there wasn't any outdoors. And if there was, no way to get there.

Figuring it out seemed to help, some; pretty soon she was breathing easier. Then she must have dozed off, because hands and voices woke her. She sat up. "What . . .

Tillya said, "I don't want to go with her. And you don't have to leave, either.

Zelde-you don't"

28."Wait a minute." Zelde shook her head. "What's going on?"

The strange voice said, "Tillya, come along-you hear? And you there-it's none of your business, so stay out."

Is that right? Zelde grinned, and reached for the hand that gripped her shoulder.

The unknown woman made a shrill, m.u.f.fled noise-as Zelde stood, crouched, twisting the arm she held to bend the woman forward, off balance. "Say me that again, why don't you?" She pushed; the other fell sprawling. Zelde moved to stand over her.

Her foot nudged more than kicked, but the woman groaned. "I don't hear you."

"Let-let me alone!"

"Sure. I was doing that. Now, though-" She wanted to see the face. By habit she grabbed the hair-too short, it slipped out of her fingers. She reached again and got the neck. "Sit up where I can see you," and in the dim light she looked. Wide eyes, pudgy cheeks, a hooked nose-easy to remember.

"You got a name?"

"Cleta. Cleta Parrin. You-"

"You ain't hurt, Cleta. Not yet. You want to keep it that way, I guess you know how."

"Yes." A nod, violent. "I won't-I'll go now."

Zelde let her loose, and Parrin scuttled away. Zelde flexed her arms, stretched, and lay down again. Then Tillya was all over her-hugging and kissing, making little crying sounds. "Oh, Zelde-Zelde!"

Zelde caught the girl in her arms, held her quiet. " 'Sall right, Tillya. Let's sleep now."

"No! I want-"

"Not tonight. We talk about it tomorrow." And after a few minutes, when nothing more happened, this time she went to sleep right away.

When Zelde woke, the lights were still dim, but she saw women lined up for the spray-baths. Without waking Tillya she got up and joined a line. Faster than she expected, it moved; she mentioned this to the woman ahead of her.