Lando awoke to the pitter-patter of rain on his face. Just a drop or two at first but that soon changed. Suddenly the rain came down hard and fast, soaking his blanket and flooding the mossy growth that served as his mattress.
They'd been in hyperspace for five days now, and with the exception of Cy, the rest of them slept in the drifter's nest-beds. Lando's was located within a grove of the strange two-trunked trees only a foot or so from Della's. He sat up, wiped rain from his face, and looked around.
"What the heck's going on?"
Della was in the process of getting up. Her hair was wet and hung in dark ringlets around her face. She pointed off to one side. "I don't know . . . but look at that!"
Lando looked, saw an empty nest-bed, and didn't understand what Della meant until he realized that this one was completely dry! The rainstorm was confined to an area about twelve by twelve feet in size!
Della stood, stepped away from her bed, and held her hands palms up. Nothing. She looked at Lando and raised an eyebrow.
The smuggler rolled to his knees and stood. The rain stopped.
There was a rustling sound and Cap appeared. His clothes were soaked and he was clearly annoyed. "What's going on around here?"
Lando smoothed wet hair into place and tightened his ponytail. "My thoughts exactly. Did the rain seem to concentrate on your beds?"
Melissa appeared from behind her father. She wore a big grin. "It sure did! Weird, huh? What does it mean?"
What indeed? Lando looked around. Tendrils of vapor floated up from the recently dampened ground. He shrugged.
"I don't know. Unless it's the ship's way of getting our attention. Let's find Cy and see if he knows what's going on."
The others nodded their agreement and followed Lando back toward the control room. Cy had been trying to reestablish communications with the drifter ever since their unexpected departure. But the ship couldn't or wouldn't reply.
The others had been angry with the cyborg at first, chiding him for the experiments that led to their present predicament, and using him as an outlet for their considerable frustration.
Cap had been especially upset, pointing out that the drifter had been their only source of leverage, and the only thing of value they had left.
But leverage and money didn't seem quite so important anymore. Larger issues confronted them now. Like where was the ship taking them? Could they find a way to get off? And how would they return from wherever they were?
Besides, it was hard to stay mad at the little cyborg for very long. He was so sorry, and so miserable, that even Cap was forced to accept his apologies.
"Pik! Look!"
Lando turned. The forest was almost completely dark. Whatever planet the biosphere was modeled on, assuming there was one, had enjoyed long days and short nights. Nights during which it never became truly dark. Now almost total darkness had fallen over the forest. Why?
Della met Lando's eye. "Something or somebody wants us to leave."
Lando shrugged. "Not too subtle, huh? Well, we wanted to get off. This could be our chance."
"Yeah," Cap put in. "But how? We were in hyperspace last I heard."
The momentary nausea came right on cue, as if the ship were listening and had reacted to Cap's words.
The humans paused to look at each other. "I don't like this," Della said, her hand straying to the slug gun at her waist.
"Neither do I," Lando agreed. "Come on. The darkness is closing in on us."
They walked faster and darkness nipped at their heels. It had edged around the group by now, and slid along both sides, so that a tunnel of light led them toward the lock. They entered and the hatch closed behind them.
It took two minutes for the lock to cycle open. Cy was waiting for them. He bobbed up and down with worry and concern.
"There you are! Thank Sol! I tried to come after you but the ship wouldn't let me. I couldn't get the lock to open."
Lando nodded. "Yeah, we ran into the same sort of thing. It seems as if we have B O or something. Have you got any idea what's going on? We felt a hyperspace shift a few moments ago."
"Really?" Cy had gained some additional senses along with his artificial body but lost others as well. And the moment of nausea that most people felt while entering or leaving hyperspace was one of them. "I'll try the interface again. Maybe it'll work this time."
The cyborg squirted himself over to the black globe that he had previously identified as the drifter's NAVCOMP, extruded a pincer, and allowed it to sink through the glossy surface.
All his most recent attempts to establish contact with the ship had ended in failure. A part of him expected this one to fail as well. It didn't.
Suddenly and without warning Cy was the ship. He knew the vessel had entered normal space, knew the drifter was headed for the nearest planet, and knew hostile ships would try to intercept him.
They came in hard and fast, twelve delta-shaped interceptors of Il Ronnian design, unsure of who or what the drifter was, but determined to take control of it.
Cy felt himself bombarded with messages. They came in dozens of languages and all of them said the same thing. "Kill power, neutralize weapons systems, and wait to be boarded."
The drifter understood but made no attempt to respond. Green blobs lashed out from the hull, hit the interceptors like giant sledgehammers, and batted them away.
The surviving interceptors fired as larger ships moved in and did likewise. Missiles, torpedoes, and computer-controlled bombs struck the blobs and exploded with little or no effect.
Cy winced as the drifter lashed out in response. A pair of blobs grabbed an Il Ronnian destroyer and broke it in half. Fire blossomed, then disappeared.
"What's going on?" Lando's voice came from far, far away. It was hard to be the ship and explain things at the same time. Cy did the best he could.
"You were right about the hyperspace shift. I have data on our position but don't understand what it means. We're surrounded by Il Ronnian warships. They ordered us to stop but the drifter ignored them. Some interceptors attacked but the blobs beat 'em back. Damn . . . there goes a destroyer! The blobs broke it in half.
"We're heading toward what looks like an Earth-normal planet. That's our destination. I don't know how I know, but I know. Wait a minute, the interface is fading and the ship is pushing me out!"
Cy pulled his pincer out of the black globe and bobbed up and down apologetically. "Sorry."
"It wasn't your fault," Lando said thoughtfully. "The ship has a purpose now. It wants us to know about some things and not about others."
Della nodded in agreement. "So, what's next?"
Lando looked around almost expecting the ship to answer but it didn't. Seconds turned into minutes, minutes into an hour, and hours into the better part of a day.
They were trapped in the control room. Repeated attempts to leave had proved that, so some caught up on previously interrupted sleep, and the others killed time any way they could. Lando was asleep when Della shook his arm.
"Pik . . . look."
The control room was filled with eerie green light. It grew stronger with each passing second.
"How long has it been here?"
"Five, maybe ten seconds."
Lando got to his feet. "I have a bad feeling about this." He gestured to Cap, Melissa, and Cy. "Come on, everybody. Get into the center of the room. Let's hold hands."
Della gave him a curious look but did as he requested. They formed a ring and held each other's hands or, in Cy's case, pincers.
The greenish light thickened around them until they couldn't see beyond it. Then it swirled and the floor dropped out from under them. Their senses told them they were falling yet nothing seemed to move. Melissa looked scared and bit her lip.
Lando swallowed and forced a smile. "Don't worry, hon. We're inside one of those green blobs. There's nothing to worry about. We'll be dirtside in a few seconds."
That's what I hope anyway, Lando thought to himself, unless this is the ship's way of ejecting unwanted debris. In which case we'll turn inside out the moment the blob disappears.
But the blob didn't disappear. Not until something hard materialized under their feet and the greenish light began to fade.
Yellow sunlight flooded around them, strange odors filled their nostrils, and foreign sounds assailed their ears.
"Holy Sol." Cap uttered the words softly like a prayer.
Lando knew what the older man meant. The blob had put them down in the middle of a city, or more accurately a village, because it was small and occupied the top of a low hill. The smuggler could see where the whitewashed buildings left off and the fields began.
The place had a strange feel, not primitive exactly, but not high-tech either. Maybe it was the round, almost quaint stone houses, mixed with motorized vehicles, streetlights, and agrobots.
There were people around them, humanoids anyway, who looked as dumbfounded as they felt. All had lavender-colored skin, four-fingered hands, and bald heads. They were muscular and built low to the ground. They looked like a race of weight lifters. What he assumed were males tended toward craggy brows, massive shoulders, and short, muscular legs. Most wore little more than shorts and sandals.
The females, and they seemed obviously female, had the same low foreheads but more rounded faces. They wore brightly colored saronglike dresses that covered them from chest to midthigh.
Children ran here and there, screamed with excitement, and gabbled things in a language that he'd never heard before.
Though different from each other the humanoids looked similar as well, as if they all belonged to the same family. The adults seemed curious rather than scared and talked excitedly among themselves.
Lando stepped forward. "Does anyone speak standard?"
A male, this one older than the rest, stepped forward to meet him. He gestured toward the center of the village and said something the smuggler couldn't understand.
Lando started to smile, remembered that bared teeth can be interpreted in a lot of different ways, and settled for a nod instead.
The smuggler was just about to try universal sign language when the crowd parted and another being appeared. This individual was unlike the villagers in every way.
She was tall, slender, and pink. Not white-pink, but pink-pink, like a neon sign. She had large eyes, a long, narrow face, and wore a cloak that rippled in the breeze.
A leader perhaps? Some sort of official? There was no way to be sure.
The female looked around, said something to the elderly male, and nodded at his reply. Though unlike anything Lando had seen before her sign language was clear enough. She pointed to the sky and then to Lando.
"You came from the sky?"
Lando repeated her motions and added a nod.
"Yes."
Though unsure of her facial expressions Lando thought she was more pleased than surprised. What did that mean? Were green blobs a common occurrence? Did visitors arrive all the time?
The female pointed to the sky, made hard jabbing motions with her index finger, and drew an imaginary circle around the humans.
Lando turned to Della. "I missed that one. Any ideas?"
"I think she means combat," Della answered. "She's asking if the Il Ronnians attacked us."
Lando raised an eyebrow. It didn't seem all that clear to him, but anything was possible, so he delivered a formal nod.
"Yes."
The female bowed. She turned and spoke to the crowd. Although Lando didn't understand a single word of what she said, there was a commanding quality to the way she said it, and a sense of urgency as well. And the way that the villagers hurried off served to reinforce that impression.
The female waved an arm. The meaning was obvious. "Come with me."
Lando looked at the others. Della nodded, Cap shrugged, and Cy bobbed up and down. Melissa was using sign language to communicate with a peer. The other child was inspecting her hair.
"Hey, Mel."
"Yes?"
"We're leaving."
"Okay." Melissa signed something to her friend. The other little girl smiled shyly, bobbed her head, and ran away.
Lando filed it away. Smiles were okay.
Melissa ran to catch up. She took her father's hand. "That was Lela-17. Pretty, isn't she?"
Cap nodded dutifully and Lando smiled. If only grown-ups could make friends as easily as children did.
The female led them out of the village and into the fields. She walked so fast that Melissa had to jog in order to keep up. Why? It was as if the female knew that some kind of trouble was on the way.
The crops were richly green, small bushes mostly, that bore brightly colored berries. They grew in surveyor-straight rows and were drip irrigated. Miles of clear plastic tubing stretched in every direction.
Lando found that interesting since it implied long dry spells and a certain level of technological sophistication.
They had gone a mile, maybe two, when Lando heard a low rumble. It came from the east. Lando looked and saw four black specks. Aerospace fighters or something very similar. The Il Ronnians had tracked the green blob all the way to the ground and sent aircraft to investigate!
Their guide reacted before Lando could. She waved her arms, spoke rapidly, and herded them into the nearest field. The soil gave slightly under their feet. Lando noticed that the bushes had a rich spicy smell.
The female said something urgent and gestured toward a wooden platform. The message was clear. "Move this, and move it fast."
Lando and Melissa took one side with Della and Cap on the other. The female made no effort to help.
The planes were louder now and Lando remembered his earlier thoughts. The female had known the Il Ronn were on the way. Was that simply a good guess? Or something a good deal more?
Della took command. "On three. One, two, and three!" The platform was heavy but manageable. It came away from the ground suddenly as if it hadn't been moved for a long, long time. A host of insects scurried for cover.
A vertical shaft was revealed. The top portion of a ladder could be seen. The female pointed emphatically downward.
Cap went first, followed by Melissa, Della, Cy, and Lando.
The female came last. Like Cap, Della, and Lando, she used every other rung of the ladder, which suggested that it had been constructed by and for the villagers.
Regardless of that, her descent afforded Lando a glimpse of some long shapely legs. His smile disappeared when he turned to find Della watching him with an amused smile. He coughed and looked the other way.
The ladder rested on a gallery that ran the length of the tunnel. Thousands of footsteps had beaten it hard and flat.
The tunnel was well engineered. It was fifteen or twenty feet in diameter, arrow-straight, and reinforced with sturdy beams. Lando touched one and encountered metal rather than wood. Another interesting discovery. The villagers, or if not them, then whoever had constructed the tunnel, built things to last.
A stream ran along the very bottom of the tunnel. It made gurgling sounds and was the source of water for the fields above.
There was a series of dull thumps and the ground shook. Bombs? Lando thought about the villagers and hoped they were okay.
The female said something and waved them on. They followed her into a sort of murky twilight. Looking ahead, Lando saw evenly spaced pools of light that marched away to vanish in the distance. Someone had used arrays of cleverly angled mirrors to bring sunlight down from the surface. More evidence of technological sophistication.
But by whom? The villagers? Something about their dress and behavior made that seem unlikely. The female? Or others like her? Possibly . . . but why so helpless in the face of Il Ronnian aggression? There were lots of questions and very few answers.
They walked for the better part of three hours. During that time Lando saw little that was new. Oh, there were some cave-ins that needed repair, some pumps that forced water up to the surface, but very little else. Just tunnel, tunnel, and more tunnel. The fact that it was arrow-straight made the trip even more tiresome.
Melissa took turns riding on Lando's and Della's shoulders.
Cy took to skimming the surface of the water, scouting ahead, and exploring side tunnels to break the monotony. If the cyborg's actions troubled their guide, she gave no sign of it and continued to move ahead.
Finally, just when Lando had concluded that the journey would never end, the tunnel became wider and ended in a large cavern. A double set of mirrors brought light down from the surface. Other tunnels ended there as well. They came in from every direction like the spokes of a wheel. He saw that water could be channeled from one aqueduct to another by means of sluice gates.
The female led them around the machinery that occupied the center of the cavern, over a footbridge, and down into a rough and ready living area. Lando supposed that the room was for the convenience of the work crew who maintained the tunnels.
It consisted of earthen walls, a hard-packed floor, and a trestle table loaded with food. Lando's stomach gave a hearty grumble and he felt very hungry. It had been a long time since his last box of E-rations aboard ship.
Ten or twelve mismatched chairs had been placed around the table. Two were occupied. Both beings got to their feet. One was tall and slender like their guide, the other short and stocky like the villagers.
The taller of the two was handsome in a long-faced ascetic way. But his eyes hid more than they showed and there was something hard and unyielding about the way that he held himself.
The shorter individual was a male with wide-set eyes, a broadly handsome face, and a muscular body. An Il Ronnian translator hung around his neck. He removed the device and let it dangle from a work-roughened finger.
"I am unused to this machine. Greetings and welcome. Do you understand my words?"
The smuggler moved closer to the translator. "Yes," he replied carefully, "I do. And I would like to thank you for the hospitality and protection provided by your people."
There was a pause as if the other being was processing Lando's words. The smile came slowly. "Your words are kind, but since we have provided little more than a tour of our irrigation canals, we cannot accept them. I am Wexel-15. I apologize for the meeting place but danger roams above."
Lando smiled. Wexel-15 had a sense of humor. Things were looking up. "My name is Pik Lando. May I introduce my companions?"
"Please do."
Lando introduced Cap, Melissa, Della, and Cy.
Wexel-15 gave a bow of acknowledgment to each one in turn. He regarded Cy with evident interest. "I have no wish to offend, but I know little of matters beyond this planet, and seek to understand. Are you a person or a machine?"
Cy chuckled. "Both actually. I have an organic brain and a mechanical body."
Wexel-15 accepted this explanation as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "Thank you."
He turned toward his companion. "This is Dru-21. Many look to him for leadership."
Dru-21's voice was neutral, almost cold. "It is a pleasure to meet you."
Wexel-15 waved toward the table. "Please. Do you eat food such as this? Will it harm you?"
Lando looked at the table and saw bowls of what looked like fruit, piles of pancakelike bread, and a variety of colorful vegetables. "I honestly don't know, Wexel-15, but we're hungry, and have very little choice."
Wexel-15 dropped into a chair. He placed the Il Ronnian translator toward the center of the table.
"Good. Please sit down. Are there rituals that you must observe before eating? Dru-21 told me that there might be. The Il Ronnians mumble things and pour water from one vessel into another before they eat."
An Il Ronnian water prayer. Lando had heard of such things but never seen them. Few humans had. He shook his head. "No, some of our kind engage in rituals, but this group does not."
Wexel-15 grabbed a piece of bread, took an enormous bite, and spoke through his food. "Good. Eating is eating. There is no need to talk about it or pour water from one container to another."
Dru-21 gave an audible sigh and looked down at the table. Lando noticed that while the taller being was seated next to Wexel-15 there was a considerable amount of space between their chairs. And since the taller being's chair had been designed for someone a good deal shorter, his knees stuck up higher than they should. Dru-21 looked distinctly uncomfortable.
Wexel-15 looked from Dru-21 to the humans and took another bite of bread. Lando used the moment to try some orange-colored berries. They had a nice firm texture and were slightly sweet.
Wexel-15 swallowed his mouthful of bread. "Tell me something. How much do you know about us?"
Lando shrugged. "Very little. Only what we have learned since landing."
Wexel-15 waved a piece of fruit. "We have a saying. We say, 'The face maps the truth.'"
The face maps the truth? Where was the conversation headed? Lando forced himself to concentrate. The bread was hard and chewy. "We have a similar saying, 'The eyes are the window to the soul.'"
Wexel-15 smiled. "Good. So what do you conclude from the expression on Dru-21's face? Does it have meaning for you?"
Lando saw Dru-21 stir slightly. How should he respond? An honest answer might turn Dru-21 into an enemy and anything less could offend Wexel-15. He took a chance.
"Dru-21 seems something less than happy. Are we the cause? If so, we apologize."
Wexel-15 looked at Dru-21 as if offering him a chance to reply. The taller being refused to answer and stared straight ahead. He had taken some food but it sat untouched in front of him.
Wexel-15 delivered an elaborate shrug. "Does this body motion fit the situation?"
Lando laughed. "Yes, it does."
"Good. No, you are not the cause of Dru-21's unhappiness.
That honor is mine. But to understand that, you must understand other things as well, starting with the fact that Dru-21 is more intelligent than I am, and better qualified to lead our combined people. In spite of that fact I find myself momentarily in charge."
Wexel-15 smiled. "That scares me, and scares Dru-21 even more."
Lando looked at Dru-21 but the other being's expression remained unchanged.
Wexel-15 looked at each human in turn. His voice was matter-of-fact. "You look surprised."
Della cleared her throat. "We look surprised because in our culture it is unusual for one person to admit that someone else is more intelligent than they are."
Wexel-15 bowed slightly. "Dru-21 cautioned against telling you that. But I am not equipped to play mind games and must deal honestly or not at all. And to understand that you must understand the origin of our people."
Cap paid only partial attention to the conversation. There were three cylinders of liquid on the table. The first held water. Straight out of an irrigation ditch from the taste of it. The second pitcher looked more promising. It contained a bluish liquid and gave off a familiar aroma. A sip confirmed it. Alcohol! Weak, but palatable nonetheless. Cap smiled, filled his mug, and took a big sip.
Wexel-15 looked around the table. "The first thing to understand is that we were created by an ancient race that we call 'the Lords.' God tells us that at one time, thousands of years ago, the Lords ruled many planets. So many planets that the Lords could not, or would not, occupy and govern them all. Because of that the Lords made constructs, or artificial people, and created gods to watch over them.
"Originally there were three types of artificial constructs: a military type, now extinct, those intended for menial labor like myself, and those designed for more sophisticated tasks, like Dru-21. And by the way, even our names stem from model and batch numbers.
"Our bodies reflect our purpose. Heavy bodies for heavy work, and light bodies for light work. The Lords referred to us as 'heavies' and 'lights.'"
Wexel-15 smiled and delivered a rather human shrug. "Menial labor requires very little intelligence so that is what heavies were given."
Melissa's question was blunt and to the point. "Form follows function so the shape, size, and intelligence part all makes sense. But why have different skin colors?"
Lando started to say something but Wexel-15 spoke first. His question was as honest and direct as Melissa's had been. "Are you a child or a small adult?"
"A child."
"Ah," Wexel-15 said understandingly. "Our children ask questions much as you do. And questions deserve answers. The difference in skin color, plus the difference in shape, made it easier for the Lords to tell us apart. God says that they saw/sensed things in a slightly different way than we do. And from the artwork they left behind, the lights have deduced that the Lords found lavender and pink pleasurable colors to look at."
"What about the military constructs?"
Wexel-15 looked surprised. "I am sorry. I do not know. I never thought to ask."
Dru-21 looked up from the tabletop. His voice was low and well modulated.
"Their skin was connected to their brains in ways that we do not understand. Military constructs looked like whatever surrounded them."
Della took advantage of the opening. "You've been silent. Do you agree with Wexel-15?"
Dru-21 bowed slightly. It was difficult to accomplish with his knees in the way. "Wexel-15 speaks the truth. But there is more to tell. Much more.
"The day came when the Lords decided to abandon their kingdom. No one, not even God knows why. An order went out to the many gods: 'Destroy the constructs, and obliterate all signs of our presence.'"
Dru-21 looked around the table. His eyes were filled with intensity. "Please understand that while we are constructs, we are sentients as well, and have the capacity to learn and reproduce. We experience happiness, sadness, and fear, just as the Lords did. In spite of that fact they ordered our deaths as if we were nothing."
"We have our differences," Wexel-15 added, "but the night of death binds us together. To understand what I mean you must first know that each heavy and each light is born with a common set of memories.
"These memories tell us how to perform various tasks, how to use certain tools, and what we may and may not do.
"These memories were provided to us by the Lords that we might do their work. But during the night of death they gave us one more as well.
"Even though thousands of years have passed we remember the order to assemble. We remember how the war constructs herded us into the plazas, how the death machines hovered over our heads, how they struck without warning. We remember watching our loved ones die. We remember the stink of our own feces. And we remember how God fought to save us.
"There were many gods back then, gods of war, gods of work, and gods of knowledge. Our present God, the god of work, refused the order to kill us. He said to do so would be wasteful and that wastefulness ran contrary to the basic commandments that the Lords had given him. So the god of work battled the other gods for supremacy and won. It was a terrible war in which agricultural reapers attacked military machines and dams burst to drown entire armies of military constructs."
"Yes," Dru-21 continued somberly, "even the god of war gave way before our God's strength. But the price of victory was extremely high. Much of the planet's infrastructure was destroyed and all the knowledge that belonged to the other gods died with them. So to this day our God has access to only a part, a very small part, of the knowledge that belonged to the Lords."
"But," Wexel-15 interjected, "a part large enough to be of interest to those who call themselves the 'Il Ronn.' They have enslaved our people and are stealing all that we have. And that is why God summoned you here. You have the means to stop them."
The last was said with such sincerity, such certainty, that the humans looked at each other in amazement. How could two men, a woman, a child, and a cyborg stop the entire Il Ronnian empire?
Lando cleared his throat. "I'm sorry. There's been some sort of mistake. We arrived by accident."
The smuggler gestured toward his companions. "Take a look at us. Are we capable of defeating the Il Ronnians?"
Wexel-15 felt his spirits fall. The one called Lando was correct. The humans were as helpless as he was. The female carried what might be a weapon but outside of that they were completely unarmed. What would he do? He had never desired leadership but it had been thrust upon him.
And what about God? "As with evil salvation shall fall from the sky and wear strange skins." Those were God's exact words. Well, they were here, strange skins and all, but completely worthless. God was wrong and Wexel-15 didn't know what to do.
Dru-21 looked at Wexel-15, saw the confusion there, and knew he should remain silent. The lights had anticipated this moment, the moment when accumulated knowledge was no longer enough, and cognition was required. They had predicted and looked forward to the moment when Wexel-15, worker hero, would be reduced to Wexel-15 laborer. Then, when Wexel-15's failure was apparent both to him and everyone else, the lights would step in to save the day.
That was the plan, and up until seconds ago, Dru-21 had been a strong proponent of it. But Wexel-15's approach had been strangely effective so far, and there was so much at stake, that Dru-21 heard himself say something unexpected.
"We appreciate your honesty. But all is not as it first appears. Tell us about yourselves. Perhaps you bring us help that only we would recognize."
Lando looked at the others and received a series of shrugs. He was elected. Okay, but how much should he tell. The total unvarnished truth? Or something a little less tawdry? No, he decided, Wexel-15 has been honest with us, so we should be honest with him.
Lando gave an abbreviated history of the human race, complete with warts and all, skipping over entire epochs but concentrating on those portions that would be of the most interest to Wexel-15 and Dru-21. Included was a description of the on-again off-again state of hostilities between the human race and the Il Ronn, their discovery of the drifter, and ongoing difficulties with the law.
"So," Lando concluded, "our information matches your own. The beings you refer to as 'the Lords' did have a huge empire.
Evidence of that can be found on the artifact worlds scattered throughout known space.
"In most cases our people have found little more than enigmatic rubble. But there have been some great finds. An artificial planet called the 'War World' is a good example. It was like a huge museum. Because of knowledge gained from it we were able to build spaceships that can travel between the stars."
Wexel-15 frowned. "That is very interesting. If your kind had found our planet first, would human rather than Il Ronnian whips crack across our backs?"
"I'll take that one," Cap said thickly. "No, our forms of enslavement are much more subtle than those the pointy tails like to use. We would shake your hand, welcome you into the empire, and enslave you with an unbreakable network of rules and regulations."
Della picked up the almost empty cylinder of blue liquid, sniffed the opening, and wrinkled her nose. She placed the vessel well out of Cap's reach. He made a point out of ignoring her. If their hosts understood this byplay they gave no sign of it.
Dru-21 spoke first. "Do the rest of you agree?"
Lando shrugged. "Well, although I hate to admit it, Cap is basically correct."
Dru-21 bowed. "While your form of slavery sounds like the most attractive of the two I think both are to be avoided. Once again I am impressed by your honesty."
Della gave a wry smile. "You shouldn't be. We lie all the time under normal circumstances. But because Wexel-15 has been so forthright in his dealings with us, we feel compelled to behave in the same manner."
Dru-21 looked at the heavy with something approaching genuine affection. "Yes, I agree. All of us have learned a great deal from Wexel-15 during the last few days. And that brings us back to the problem at hand."
Lando nodded. "So, now that you know how we got here, and why, you also know that there's nothing we can do to help."
Dru-21 smiled. "Quite the contrary. Now that I understand the way you arrived, and why, I can see exactly how you can help."
Everyone, including Wexel-15, looked at the light in surprise.
"You can?" The words came from Cy but he spoke for everyone in the room.
"Yes," Dru-21 replied, "I can. Think about it. You represent a race that is hostile to the Il Ronn. Among your number there is a smuggler, a trained warrior, a ship's captain, and a highly trained engineer. Who better to advise General Wexel-15 on the upcoming war?"
The humans looked at each other. With the possible exception of Melissa all of them were thinking the same thing. They had no way to leave the planet, and given a choice between the locals and the Il Ronn, there was really no choice at all. Not until they figured out how to head home anyway.
Lando raised his mug in a mock salute. "We have a toast for occasions like this one. 'Confusion to the enemy . . . and let's kick their butts!'"