Planet X - Michael Jan Friedman [25]
It was hard to believe someone could be destroyed for an insignificant offense. However, worse offenses might follow—probably would follow, if Erid was any judge of character. And the government had never faced anything like the transformed before.
“Erid?” came a voice from behind him.
He turned and saw it was Corba who had spoken to him.
She tilted her head slightly. “That’syourname, isn’t it?”
Erid nodded, intrigued by her strange, quick way of talking. “Yes.”
“You don’t talk much,” Corba observed.
He shrugged. “I think a lot.”
“Aboutwhatyou’vebecome,” she said.
“That,” he replied, “and other things.”
Corba glanced at the opposite wall, where the guards were looking down on the yard. Erid glanced that way, too. Their conversation hadn’t drawn any special attention. But then, they were hardly the only ones conversing.
“Otherthings?” she echoed. “Likewhat?”
“Like how much I hate it here,” he told her.
He hadn’t intended to say that. But it had been days since he exchanged more than a couple of superficial words with anyone, and the sentiment had simply come pouring out.
“Weallhateit,” Corba answered. “That’swhyRahatan didwhathedidyesterday. Becausewe’repeople, notanimals. We’renotsupposedtobecagedup.”
“No,” Erid agreed. “We’re not.”
Her gaze seemed to harden, become more resolute. “Andwithanyluck, wewon’tbecagedmuchlonger.”
He didn’t understand. He told her so.
Again, Corba cast a glance at the battlements. “Rahatanwantstobreakoutofthisplace.”
Erid looked at her. “Break …” He shook his head. “But how do you know?”
“Paldulcontactedhiminhiscell,” she said. “Hecando that. Rahatantoldhimwedon’tneedtostayhereanylonger
—not withthepowerswe’vegot.”
He swallowed. “But the guards …”
Corba frowned. “Allweneedtodoisworktogether. That’s whatRahatansays. Ifwedothat,theguardscan’tstopus.”
Erid felt his cheeks flush. “And the others … ?”
“I’vespokenwithhalfadozentransformedmyself,” she said. “Noonesturnedmedownyet. They’re all sick of being here.”
Suddenly, Erid was more frightened than ever. It was bad enough he had become some kind of freak, and worse still that he had been imprisoned because of it. But now he was contemplating an act of violence—one that would forever alienate him from Xhaldian society.
And yet, he thought, if he didn’t do it, he would be alienated from a different kind of society—maybe the only kind realistically left to him. He took a breath, then let it out.
“Has Rahatan got a plan?” Erid inquired.
Corba nodded. Then she told him what it was, and what role had been chosen for Erid in it.
“Soyou’rewithus?” she asked. She quirked a smile. “Ordoyoulikethewayitfeelswhentheystunyouintheyard?”
He thought about it. If Rahatan was right and they were able to break out of the fortress, he might never have to feel a stun blast again.
Erid swallowed even harder. “I’m with you.”
Chapter Nine
THE HOLODECK DOORS opened with a soft hiss. Worf found himself bathed in sun and shadow as he studied the scene in front of him. Wolverine, who was standing beside him, just grunted.
They were in a clearing in the middle of a steamy, tropical jungle. A blood-blackened, white-stone altar was the only man-made structure in sight.
Birds screamed from high up in the lush, golden foliage and darted across a patch of crimson sky. Halfseen creatures peered out from their sun-dappled hiding places with wide, frightened-looking eyes.
“Nice place ya got here,” Wolverine rasped. He wiped sweat from his eyes with the back of his hand. “I prefer somethin’ a little frostier myself, but to each his own.”
As it happened, Worf had no particular liking for this place either; the flora gave off a most unpleasant scent. Still, the program had been a gift from his son, Alexander, who had been living with Worf’s foster parents back on Earth at the time. And if one could ignore the smell, the opportunities for battle were most exhilarating.
Hefting his batt’leth, the Klingon