Clete eyed his brother Lane rather dubiously. Lane smiled. He was only five centimeters less than Clete's massive one ninety-five, but they just looked like a great deal more on Clete. He LIKED to work out. Lane didn't actually mind it as much as their 'little' brother Dutch. He was only five cens less than Lane in height, but, somehow...
Lane knew it was an impression and not reality, but Clete looked like a hugely muscled strawberry blond giant. He looked a somewhat slender and slightly shorter version of his brother with white-blond hair. Dutch looked 'compact' and moved faster than any other being classed as anthropoid. He also looked the most like their father with his golden blond curls. They, basically, looked like triplets with a bit of variation.
They were actually half brothers. Their mothers had all had the same name though, Athena. They were travelers in both time and space. They'd been given a universe to take care of, Dutch's. Their father was taking care of the one where he and Clete had been born. This was the fourth 'task' they'd taken on, but the first time they'd actually set out to battle the enemy.
They called it 'the enemy' because it was easier to think of it that way. Evil wasn't personified by some great villain in Dutch's universe as it was in their father's. It was just easier to think of the combination of chance, chains of circumstance, that destroyed life as such. There was only one way to stop a chain of circumstance that destroyed a society and killed billions, as it happened.
That was what they were going to do on Adith. It was the task he'd presented to his brothers when circumstance ripped away the love and life he'd seen in his memories of the future. He was healing and the helpless anger was going, but the task was still the right one.
"Don't worry, Clete. It won't last. It's necessary for the part we have to play."
"It makes me look barbaric, Lane. A bit uncivilized."
"That's Adith, Clete. Wait'll you see what we wear."
Clete looked at himself in the mirror. The big gold hoop in his right earlobe did make him look wild, especially with the deep suntan Lane had insisted he acquire.
"When you said pirates, I thought you were talking about spaceships not sailing ships. Why is it important we do something about them?"
"They go from sailing ships to spaceships in a very big hurry. Too big a hurry. The culture is arrested. It never develops. The power and the wealth is all in the hands of the pirates. Where's Dutch?"
"Good question. Still in his rooms, I think. He's been doing some pretty intense study of sailing vessels. He's coming."
"Hi. Wow. I suppose I'm about to have my ear pierced."
"Yes, Dutch. Stand still. I tried to think of a way to avoid it, but it was too complicated. The hoop identifies us as tars."
"And the suntan?"
"Preventative. We'd have fried, besides looking very strange. We'll have to speed up our metabolisms. We'll be cold most of the time if we don't."
"Here, Lane, let me finish. There. Hmm, interesting effect. Why three different colors of gold?"
"Vanity. To match our hair. Makes us stand out a bit. Yellow gold for you, red for Clete and white for me."
"Why, Lane, sometimes you do surprise me. This thing is heavy. Feels strange."
"About thirty-five grams. An Adith lule. Standard weight. Identifies us as successful sailors. Pros. Rank amateurs start with a hoop of a tenth lule."
"I suppose it's for the same reason sailors wore them on ancient Earth."
"Right. If a sailor is lost at sea, it pays for a proper burial when he's washed ashore. Ah, I knew I'd picked a pattern that would work."
Lane coded the pattern and the replicator produced three pair of mid-calf length, white, drawstring tied, loose, pants.
"Our outfits."
"Just pants?!"
"Yes, Clete, just pants."
"They're kind of thin. What goes under them?"
"Nothing."
"Now wait a minute, Lane. The first time these get wet, they'll be nearly transparent."
"Yes, Clete, I know. Try not to get wet until we're at sea. Watch out for port girls with buckets of water. It's a game they play."
"At least the tan will make it less obvious if he blushes."
Dutch ducked the swipe Clete made at him and grinned. Lane was getting over the heartbreak that had been an injury to them all or his empathic 'big' brother wouldn't have felt playful.
"Come on. I've put together a short course on rigging. It'll supplement what we picked up in our naval history course at the academy. We're going to have to put in some practice at knots and rope walking too. We have to get real good in a hurry. We'll have to be able to walk wet beams and ropes in high seas. How long have we got to practice, Lane?"
"About three days. Don't worry, Dutch, Clete will work us ragged. We'll be ready."
"All right! Something new. A challenge."
"See what I mean?"
They spent three days in intense training. Clete set up a system of hydraulic lifts to anchor ropes and beams and programmed them to simulate a pitching ship's rigging. He set them over the swimming pool and cooled the water to six degrees above freezing. They got good fast. Then he added wind. They learned exactly when walking became impossible and hands necessary. In three days, they were ready.
Lane briefed them on what he had seen in his memories of the future. Dutch would begin changing the path as soon as he told him what it was. It was what Dutch was. He changed the future and Lane hung onto something and hunted for a path through the new one that took shape in his future memory. It had become more difficult with every change made, but the 'clutter' of all the paths not taken had been ripped away recently, just in time for him to focus completely on the future he would share with his love.
Dutch had been working to make a great many little changes to make that not the 'only path not taken' and had succeeded almost too well. That future memory path would no longer even be easy to find. It was one of the ways his brother said 'I love you' and the clutter was twice comforting for that reason. He definitely preferred searching through the clutter to not being able to avoid the memory of 'could have been'.
"We're looking for a ship called the Hemith Wind. She recruits the old fashioned way, shanghais sailors in port, supplies half a dozen pirate ships with unwilling crews. We're going to stuff our nontime pockets with gold and gems. We're outlanders from the mysterious west. Our blond hair and light eyes would identify us as such anyway. We've got to take over a pirate ship."
"What then, Lane?"
"Move in on the pirate stronghold, Dutch. They're about to be visited by space travelers. They move from the sea lanes to the space lanes in one bound. You're not going to like them much."
"Why not?"
"They sell everything that looks like it's worth anything and dump the rest overboard, including people, but they play with them awhile first."
"You said they were insane."
"They are, but the whle society is and it's almost planet wide. Compassion and caring are considered weaknesses. So is love. Even friendship is considered something for fools. We're brothers. Since all three of us are adults and obviously care about each other, we're going to be an oddity."
"I'm lost."
"Having a brother means someone else competing for wealth. It also means a knife in your back. Women are fiercely protective of their sons, at least until they're old enough to kill their fathers and brothers."
"That's sick."
"Yes, Clete, and it will spread. Once the pirates reach space, the sickness spreads out into the sector. It's self-destructive in the long run and they'll eventually evolve out of it, but there are several hundred years of terror before it ends and two thousand years of dark ages before peoples reach once more for the stars."
"All right. Did we change things by coming here?"
"No, Dutch, we'll change things if we live through it."
"Oh, wonderful. One of those. Tell me."
Lane told them they'd be shanghaied on their second night in port. They'd be handed over to the pirates their third day at sea. Clete would go crazy when they started torturing people and throwing children into the sea. They'd take over the ship and head for the stronghold. They'd build up a large following of women with small sons. The other men would fear them. When the spaceship landed, they would use modern weapons to wipe out the women and children and the three of them would be killed.
"I don't like it."
"I'm not particularly fond of the scenario myself, Dutch."
"Where's Melissa during all this."
"Right where we leave her, outside the port city of Kerr-Mali."
"No. I want her on the Hemith Wind. That's the ship we're going to take over. We're sailors, but also powerful magicians. We're not afraid of them because we're too powerful. Stuff med supplies into pockets too. We're going to build a cult of grateful and, if necessary, terrified people around ourselves. Well, we know it changes things."
"At least you waited til he was sitting down this time. I'm going to make us some coffee. No, you make it. He's going to need it. I'm getting too much confusion from him. I'm wobbly."
"Probably because I've decided to use Melissa to be several places at once, Clete. We're going to be very angry at being shanghaied, but we like having lots of women around. We'll still build our stronghold, but we're going to appear out of nowhere. We'll start it the day before the Hemith Wind puts in to the pirate port. We'll leave her an hour before she does."
"No wonder Lane's confused. He must have thousands of futures to sort through. Let's just hope he finds us a clear path."
"If he doesn't, we'll make more changes."
"You'll make more changes. He just rides the winds. I just feel him riding them."
"All right, I'LL make more changes. I'll also make the coffee."
Dutch decided to use some of their stock of real beans. They'd have it black and strong. Caffeine was a fairly safe stimulant. He used a dark roast Terrazu from the mountains of central America, the region called Costa Rica. He carried it back to the living room just as Lane was coming out from under the influence of change.
"Mmm, smells good. Well, we've got a path, but it's tricky and it's going to require doing some things we really dislike. There's no option. Anything else leads to disaster. At least we can ease the pain and get it over with fast. Clete, you're going to want to find a way to prevent a whole bunch of things from happening. You can't. If you do, they'll die. It's safety for them. The symbol of our protection. I'll build the rings, but we'll have to force ourselves to use them. We're going to have to kill some men. Break some too. At least we can heal those. You're not going to like being feared. Or worshipped. Remember, Dutch and I won't like it either."
"Oh, brother. If you're warning me already, dislike is a major understatement. I'm absolutely going to hate it. How bad is it going to get?"
"Bad enough you decide you're through with Dutch and I and you want out."
"No, Lane, that won't happen."
"It will. Telling you about it now is the only thing that will keep you from going through with it. Clete, we have to change a whole culture. There will be casualties. You, Dutch and I are going to be hurt. The enemy is strong here. Remember, its weapon of choice is one of us against the others. This time it will be you."
"How hurt?"
"Emotionally, Dutch. We're going to cut out the malignancy. It's surgery without anesthesia. It's bloody and it's cruel. It'll also save scores of planets and millions of lives. Clete, remember that when we have blood on our hands."
"We're never going to get over this, are we?"
"Yes, Clete, we will, but it's going to leave scars. We've been given the right to judge, empowered to decide. This time we can't avoid it. Like Dad, sometimes we will have to choose which deserves to survive. If it didn't cause us pain, we'd be servants of the enemy. The pain is the punishment we impose on ourselves. Scars on our souls. That which will distance us from our fellow beings. The real battle is to keep caring for them, never to become aloof, to decide love is worth the pain, to always hate to kill."
"Murder with a conscience."
"No, execution with compassion."
They landed Melissa deep in the hold of the Hemith Wind and slipped over the side into the sea. Clete already hated the ring he wore. He'd asked Lane why he'd chosen the symbol of the chess knight. He'd said they must be willing to take responsibility for their actions. They must perform them as what they were, knights of life. And for some reason, the symbol was extremely important. It had nearly glowed in his memory. They would be what they were to these people, knights.
Just before they entered the port, Lane stopped them on the road. He wore a very wide grin.
"It begins here. We're about to play a game with the port girls. We'll be spotted as soon as we top the hill. From then on, we're fair game. The object is to get to the docks without getting wet. If you get soaked, the girl has a claim on you. You can't run away. It's an ancient game. This world has no pairbond traditions. There are many more females born than males. They do nearly all the work. One of the few exceptions is seafaring, which is an all male occupation. Women with children form family groups. A strong male may 'own' several. Young females can't join families until they're with child. Their intent is to become part of a family before someone takes them as slaves. Slave women are sterilized. It's done with a nasty herbal mix that kills about one in three. They have a lot of fun with the game, but it's deadly serious underneath."
"Lane, we can't give them what they want."
"They don't know that, Clete. We can't tell them either. This time we can't tell them we're outworlders. Our two hearts are part of our western 'magic'. And I'm not so sure about us not giving them what they want. Adithi slavers will take, would have taken, women from a great many worlds. Some of them would have been immune to the drug. There would have been outworlders in Adithi families."
"Like the bernisi, genetically dominant and cross-fertile."
"Perhaps, Dutch. I don't know. Just try not to get wet."
"Uh, huh. We're not going to stay dry are we?"
"How fast can you run? How quick can you dodge? Come on. The game is fun. Oh, yes. The water is colored. Each woman uses a different color. Well, she makes her own and tries to make it different. Sometimes a few will band together, two or three. If we get wet, every man on the docks will know. They'll also know about who caught us. Sea water washes the color out, but you have to get by a lot of men to get to the sea. That's the other part of the game. It's quite a bit rougher."
"Damn, what a planet. Just how do we change it?"
"We don't sterilize slaves or kill young males. We teach love by example. A brother defends a back, not knifes it. We're stronger together. We're so strong, we're worth copying. By the way, in the west, the males are owned. The fact we're not indicates we're very strong."
"The whole planet is sick, not just one society."
"I'm sure there are a few primitive groups which aren't, Dutch, but they won't stay healthy once they come into contact with others. At least in the west, females aren't sterilized and males are prized. No one kills little boys, but brothers are still rare and very jealous of each other. Only one can be favored consort. A cup of poison or a knife in the back is still the symbol of brotherly love."
"Yuck."
"You got it, Clete. Yuck. It's going to take us a while to do this."
"How long a while?"
"Long enough for us to think of this as home, Dutch. We'll get away to do other things. Melissa is our refuge, our freedom, but we'll be here a very long time. We don't take unsterilized females. Remember that. We'll have male followers. They'll be incorporated into the females' families. We'll marry them. It's the basis of the change. We take a lot of slaves away from others. We won't make any of our own. We'll also stop families from driving young females out. They'll trade them with others or a male will marry them. The trading is a western tradition and won't seem that odd. Remember, the society is very sick, but all the people aren't. They need another way more than anything else. Now, let's go play."
"Why don't I feel like playing?"
"Because you just found out it's a very high stakes game, Clete. Don't worry, you'll feel how much fun the girls are having trying to soak you. We're big men. We're fast and fun to try to outwit, especially you two. You can feel where they are and Dutch moves very fast. Let's go."
They topped the rise and word ran through the port like wildfire. Three men of the west; fair-haired, barefoot, and beautiful. Buckets were filled all over the city. They began to run. The girls laughed in delight. The game was on.
Dutch ran around a corner, jumped for a jutting beam and swung over the top of two girls. They stared after him. He was faster than any man they had ever seen, muscled and beautiful. They ran to get ahead of him. Other girls would force him to take a circuitous route. He was fast enough to get a long way in.
He dove over the thrown water of the next girl, then dodged down an alley. He went up the wall at the back of it and across several rooftops. He jumped down just beyond the girl who had decided where he'd have to land. She too ran to get ahead of him.
Clete felt two of them waiting, ran around the corner and stopped dead. The water hit the ground in front of him. He ran between them and patted them as he went by. They were delighted and ran for more water. They too would try again deeper in the city.
Clete jumped for a balcony and grinned at the girl who'd missed him. He dropped off the roof just in front of one who'd hidden on it. He ducked down an alley and dove into a doorway. He laughed when the girl with the empty bucket stamped her foot. He felt her admiration, swung her up, kissed her, then ran on. She ran for more water.
Lane knew where they'd be. He stepped around the corner and ducked back. He smiled and strolled past the three with empty buckets. The next two he would just plain outrun. He began to enjoy the game.
The men at the docks knew the game was on. More and more girls were showing up in the vicinity with buckets. They were getting absolutely thick. The men pulled back onto the docks. The girls were excited and frustrated. Soon any man not actually on the docks would be fair game. Who could have gotten every girl in the city aroused? They'd never seen them in such a state before. They were combining into large groups. Unheard of. The girls were building a solid ring around the docks. Whoever was coming was a threat to them.
Any new male was a threat. This one was more so. He was powerful enough the girls were determined to get him. A man called to a girl filling her bucket. She told him three giants of the west had come. None had been wetted. They were getting near. The men got angrier. They wouldn't cooperate, but each decided to stop the outlanders from reaching the sea. The girls would catch them. They wouldn't reach the docks until at least nightfall. No one would sleep that night.
Dutch, Clete and Lane had already begun to change the world. Groups of girls joined other groups. New colors were born. There had been many. Now there were but three, each with a chosen target. Every access to the docks was covered and girls with empty buckets ran to tell of the big males' progress.
Lane knew they wouldn't get through. They'd get within sight of the docks, but they wouldn't get to them. The men would see them taken. He smiled as he thought of them waiting up all night for them. They'd have a very long wait. They'd be much easier to get through reeling from lack of sleep. It would never occur to them to work together or post sentries. The only time they cooperated was at sea. This was shore. It was every man for himself.
Dutch and Clete had realized they wouldn't get through too. There were dozens of girls along every street. They'd also noticed the water thrown was of one particular color. Clete dodged pail after pail of emerald green. Dutch dodged pale blue. Lane was dodging golden tan.
The three of them ran into sight of the docks and were drenched. A cheer went up from the girls and a hostile growl rose from the men.
The girls rushed them and surrounded them. They were pushed and pulled toward warehouses near the docks. Clete flushed with embarrassment, then heated. The women around him were becoming wild with excitement. He was awash in their feelings. His deep low growl, as they pushed him into a dim building, sent them into a frenzy. Reason left him and he loosed what he was.
Lane threw back his head and moaned. The women near carried him to their chosen den. Clete was passion and sanity fled. It would not return for a very long time.
Dutch arched and pulled a girl against him. The girls rolled him past the doors to close them, then fought to get near him. Clete's flame burned through him. It was beyond anything they'd ever experienced. Dutch bonded them together. Only Clete could survive the fire. Bonded they would survive it with him. Apart, he would burn them out. Dutch pulled them together and the world was flame.
On the docks and in the city, people screamed with raging passion that had no outlet. All knew something new had come into the world.
Dutch awoke and they were kneeling around him, all of them. He was in the midst of a circle of girls. He smiled and they gave him food and drink. He ate and touched each one gently, then left them. He didn't know how much time had passed or how long he'd slept. He knew Lane and Clete were awake too. It was time to take the docks. He laughed when he found them. They too were covered in scratches and the marks of passion.
"I can't believe my teeth aren't rattling."
"It was different this time."
"I know, Clete. Not pleasure, only heat."
"Like an animal. No feeling. No love. No caring. Even the girls under the drug felt something. I feel... used. Unclean."
"We were used, but we've already begun to change things. Groups of girls joined and agreed. Chose to cooperate. Chose not to leave anyone out. What else did you feel from them, Clete?"
"Awe, fear, almost worship. Lane, I didn't like it. It makes me feel... I can't really explain it. They wanted me to OWN them."
"It'll happen again and again on this world. Being owned is being protected. Choose the strongest owner. The most dominant, male or female. Hope you please your owner enough you aren't thrown out with the trash. There aren't any old people here. When they quit being useful, they're no longer fed. There's a lot to change, but first we have to go through a mob of men and get to the sea."
"Lane, is this just a society we're trying to change?"
"What do you mean, Dutch?"
"I'm not sure... but it's almost like trying to domesticate a wild species."
"More like weeding an overrun garden. The good plants can't grow. The weeds are choking them out. Wait until you see the way love flourishes with just a little care. Our task is to show love is strength, not weakness. Even some of the weeds will blossom, but some just have to be uprooted."
"Thrown on the compost heap."
"No, Clete, not even that. Burned to ash. They're deadly to life. They poison the ground they grow in."
"What about the spacers? What do we do about them?"
"Try to keep them from being killed and their ship being taken over. If we can't, we have to take the ship. It's a double image. We succeed and send them away, or we fail and go after the ones who take her. If the former, they'll come back and establish trade. If the latter, this world will be cut off from the stars. Either way, we have to keep the adithi from taking the ship. It has to land. It brings knowledge of other worlds, arouses a latent desire to learn. Well, there they are. They won't work together and they're all tired, but there are still a lot of them. Don't worry about breaking them. You won't have time to be careful. We'll heal the worst. Ready? To the sea!"
They hit the mob on the docks straight on. Plowing through them. Moving ever closer to the water. The men didn't understand the coordinated teamwork they saw. The three protected each other. No back was exposed. Clete was lead man, clearing a path by using his attackers to knock down others. They were the moving center of the storm, the raging wall of the hurricane's eye.
"Water. Two meters. One. Now."
Clete dove for the sea, Dutch and Lane at his heels. The men on the docks dispersed. They were accepted as being strong enough to exist. The injured were left where they lay. No one would do anything for them, or to them. If they were strong enough, they'd survive. If not, their ear hoops would be taken by the women to pay for their burial.
"Damn, I hate these pants. Like wearing cellophane."
"Don't worry, Clete. It just enhances your standing. Nothing out of proportion."
"Dutch, get out of the water so I can throw you in."
"All right, you two, to work. This is where we perform our first really strange deed. First we heal all our scratches before we leave the water, then we heal the men we injured. We don't say anything about it or expect anything from it. We just do it and leave them. Some of them will come looking for us. We tell them we choose to injure or kill. They don't have the right to the pain. There's only one we treat any differently."
"Ooh, Lane, that's a strange one."
"It's intended to be, Dutch. It's the first foundation stone of our power base. We are so powerful, only we are allowed to make the choice."
"Hold still, Dutch. How the hell did you get bitten there?"
"Don't ask me. I'm still wondering who nibbled on my toes. Oh, that's better. The salt water burned places I didn't know I was scratched. Hit the top of my head with the medunit too, Clete. I know about that scratch. She had absolute claws."
"Lane you're next. Drop 'em. Damn, I suppose you don't remember either."
"On the contrary. I remember it quite well. I knocked her halfway across the room, then went and found her. I had to see how bad I'd hurt her. She was delighted until I checked her and left her there. My toes are a bit nibbled too."
"Your turn, big man."
"Start with my back, Dutch. It burns."
"I can see why. Turn around. Clete, you look like you've been in the world's biggest cat fight. Good lord! And you said something about MY marks. Lane, help him stay afloat. This is going to take awhile. We had nibbles. He's got chunks missing."
"Oh, come on, Dutch, it's not that bad."
"Clete, how can you not know? You have actual damage. You're going to have scars, not just stripes in your tan."
"They won't last. Never do. They'll fade just like-- What are you doing?!"
"Healing you. Hold still. Lane, he's been... well, used worse than we were. He's a bloody mess."
"I know. He's been too busy to notice. Too far out to care. Turn over, Clete. I'll hold your head above water. You've been abused. More carrying green than blue or tan."
"Dutch, stop it!"
"Shut up, Clete. Hold him still, Lane. He's got no idea what they did."
"What did they do?"
"Shut up, Clete. Hold still while Dutch heals it."
"But, Lane, he's--"
"Shut up, Clete."
Dutch finished healing him and handed the medunit back. They climbed up on the docks and went to work on the men they'd injured getting to the sea. Clete's big hands hid the medunit. Men were given the answer Lane had suggested when they asked why. The conscious were healed first and told to go. The unconscious were healed. One man was severely injured. Dutch took over. He had done the damage. He wasn't sure he'd be able to save him. It was touch and go.
"This one's going to need more. What do I do, Lane?"
"We keep him with us for awhile. Clete carries him. He's our first... disciple. His life is ours. Mark him."
"No."
"Do it, Dutch. His life is yours. Claim it."
"Lane..."
"Do it. At least he won't feel it."
"Where?"
"Here and here."
"Lane, I won't do it."
"Do you want to change this world?"
"Yes."
"Then do it."
"Damn."
Dutch turned on his ring and set his mark on the young man, claimed him and his offspring. He didn't use the back side of the ring. The anesthetic it provided wasn't necessary. He used the medunit to heal both marks.
"Lane, I don't like you or myself much right now."
"Yeah, Dutch, and Clete's begun to want out. The mark is his protection while he heals. Now we give him to the women as ours. They'll care for him and shelter him while he recovers. They do it hoping we'll mark them too."
"You're right, Lane. I want out. Slavers brand people. You were branded. I don't want it. My stomach turned. I'm not going to be able to do it."
"I... I have to change... Dutch, bring us together. I can't do it alone. I'm going to show Clete why. What will be. What we can do or what can happen. The paths of if. Why the mark is protection. Why these people beg us to brand them. You'll learn too. Then we decide if we have the courage to do it. We can just go away and leave it. You sort through. You decide if it's wrong. I'm tired. I don't want the decision. You wanted a path of change. You decide if it's worth it. Some things shouldn't be changed. You decide. Perhaps this sector is meant to have two thousand years of barbarism before it climbs to the stars again. Do it, Dutch!"
"Lane, I--"
"DO IT!"
Dutch steeled himself. This wasn't brotherly aid, no gentle rapport. They were nearly openly hostile. He had Lane's insistence. He looked to Clete and he nodded his acceptance. He forced past his own reluctance and pulled them together, then drove into Lane's mind. He broke down his barriers and forced him open. He held Clete and forced him to see. Lane couldn't help fighting. Dutch held him down and looked at his visions. He became what he was, the unconquerable will. The irresistible force. He was the true power. It was why the choice was his. Always his. He felt Clete and Lane surrender themselves to him and he loved them and hated it. He stood and they lay helpless at his feet. Trusting. He saw and made the decision. Clete accepted and wept. He would do what must be done.
Dutch held them when they thought he would free them. Held them and showed them one more thing, his desperate need for their love. Without them, he was incomplete. He surrendered himself to them. An act of will. It was what he was. He willed himself to be theirs as they were his. The bond was reforged. The love renewed. He released them and knelt down between them.
"All right, Lane, we saw. We'll do it. Clete?"
"You know how it is with me. Just be there when it hurts."
"We will."
"Yeah, I know. I'll bring him. Where to? I... don't remember much of it."
"Where would you like to go?"
"A bar."
"First stop. Here, Lane. I'll help you up. You were still dizzy with the change you were making when I tore into you. I could see why you had to make it. It would have torn you to pieces trying to keep us on the path. I'm always willing to carry my share of the load, but you must let me know it's there. You look like you could use a drink too."
"Why is it anthropoids all head for alcohol to steady their nerves? It doesn't, you know."
"Of course not. It's just easier to blame the wobblies on the drink than admit they're inside us."
"Dutch, you're a genius."
"Runs in the family. Let's go, brother genius. Which way? Details got lost in the mass of info."
"I lose them too. I have to hunt them down. And, like any memory, some just aren't clear. That way."
Lane pointed them in the direction of the tavern where the shanghai gang of the Hemith Wind would find them. On the way Dutch reached out and grabbed a port girl. He looked into her eyes and told her to care for the young man who bore his mark. Clete laid him at her feet. Dutch produced several gold coins from the air and handed them to her.
They left her on her knees beside the young man, shaking in awe. The blood marks the girls delighted in giving the men they caught were merely lines of pale new skin. The young man would receive very good care and several women would beg to go with him when he sought the one who had claimed him. He would take them.
"Hypnosis."
"What, Clete?"
"Hypnosis. Dutch can hypnotize with a glance. Like Dad. That girl HAS to do what he told her. It's growing in strength. Like all our powers. I'm not wearing a translator disk. Lost it. I can still understand everything said. You don't need them either. I'd bet on it."
"Like Dad. Ow! Clete, heal the hole behind my ear where I took it out. Lane, give me yours."
"Ouch! Been there a long time, since the academy. I've got a hole too. How did you manage to lose yours, Clete? They're in pretty solid."
"I... Well... I think someone bit it off. It took me awhile to figure out what Dutch had healed there."
Dutch and Lane burst into laughter, then nearly collapsed in mirth when he blushed. He colored from his navel all the way to the roots of his hair. It was an amazing sight, almost a hundred centimeters of pink.
They recovered and walked into the tavern. They were suddenly surrounded by women. They were escorted to a table, served food and beverage, basically paid homage. Dutch shrugged and started handing out roses. Lane and Clete grinned and helped. They got drunk. It was necessary. No one would attempt to shanghai them sober. As it was, Lane whispered to the tavern girls to let it happen. The wide-eyed girls nodded. These were so powerful, they knew the Hemith Wind was searching. And did not fear.
* * * *
Paradox Equation Page
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Copyright © 1999 Sharon L 'Spinner' Reddy
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