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Chapter Eleven

Stratton stared at the clock on the instrument panel of the flyer. Bradley and Jackson had been gone a long time. "I wonder what's taking them so long?" Stratton yelled back at Decker where he stood at the top of the ramp just outside the open hatch.

"I don't know, but this doesn't look good," Decker said.

From the windshield she could see what he meant. The "curious villagers" were carrying more and more weapons and beginning to appear less like a welcoming committee and more like an angry mob. Suddenly a huge scream came from them as a whole assembly.

"Get in the ship! Get back in the ship!" Stratton activating the switch that would close the hatch.

Decker jumped in, barely escaping the spear that rattled to the floor beside him where he landed on his butt.

"Shit!" Decker screamed as spears and rocks starting hitting the outside of the ship making it almost impossible to hear. He got to his feet and ran to where Stratton sat at the consol trying to get through to Bradley and Jackson.

"Bradley, this is Stratton. We are under attack! Do you read? What the hell's going on? Damn it! If you can hear me, answer." There was nothing. "God damned magnetic pulses!

"It may not be the pulses," Decker said looking at the hail of rocks and spears thumping ineffectively on the windscreen and swallowing a lump in his throat. "He may not be in a position to answer us."

Stratton nodded. If Bradley had met with a similar welcoming party on the inside of the Palace, he and Jackson, were probably already dead. She made a quick decision and started powering up the ship.

"What the hell are you doing?" Decker screamed. "They may still be alive. We can't just leave them here."

"And they may already be dead. If we stay here, we'll be killed as well," Stratton told him. She got back on the com-link. "Bradley, we can't wait. We're lifting off. We'll come back for you."

"This thing was made to take re-entry and meteor showers. Rocks and spears aren't likely to hurt it!" Decker screamed. "We can wait."

"How long do you think it's going to take them to figure out that rocks and spears aren't going to damage us and go after tools? They have time and man power on their side. If Bradley and Jackson are still alive, we will come back for them. For now we're going to run and hide," Stratton assured him.

"Fire the forward cannons . . ."

"If I use the armaments we won't have enough power left to make escape velocity. The armaments on a skiff are for emergency use only!" Stratton said.

"And this isn't an emergency!" Decker screamed.

"Not yet," Stratton answered calmly.

"Call Briggs. Report what's happening and send for reinforcements," Decker pleaded.

"Oh, yes . . . That's exactly what we all want to do – escalate the problems down here. You know how the Reliance deals with primitive uprisings. They send bombers in to hammer the place level whether we – or Bradley and Jackson are here or not." She lifted off as the natives scattered.

"Then fire the cannons. If we aren't planning to go back to the Station anyway, what does it matter?" Decker asked.

"I'm not going to cut our options. I'm not willing to burn out bridges we may need." She lifted off. "If we shoot them, how are we going to prove that we want to help them? If we wind up being stuck on this planet, we had damn well better find a way to get along with the natives. The last thing we want to do is make them more hostile than they already are." She flew the skiff away from the palace and the capital city.

"In case you didn't understand, when we decided to defect, you were no longer in command," Decker said. "You left Jackson and Bradley down there to die."

"Right now I'm in command of this skiff because I'm sitting in this chair and the only way you're going to get me out of this chair is to burn a hole in me like the one you burned in Hank. If they had it in their heads to kill Bradley and Jackson, they have already done so. If they are still alive, we will go back and get them. But we obviously aren't going to be able to sneak past anyone in this ship."

Decker nodded his head in reluctant agreement.

"Now buckle up. I'm setting this thing down," Stratton ordered.

* * *

Bradley looked at the ring of guards that had closed in around he and Jackson and then back at the King.

"What is all this?" Bradley asked. He heard but ignored Stratton's frantic call sounding from the transmitter in his ear.

"You said we would be cured," the King said. "We are not cured. Now you tell us you want the gold back. My people have traded with the Reliance in good faith for hundreds of years. Now you trade my people for gold and then order that we give the gold back to you."

"Listen to me . . . The Reliance has indeed dealt in bad faith with you. I don't agree with what the Reliance is doing and neither do these people with me. That is why – at risk of our very lives – we have come here to tell you that the gold the Reliance has given you is tainted. It is the gold that is making you sick. If you will only think about it, you will know that what I am telling you is true."

The King laughed, and the priests joined in. Then he stopped laughing and spoke angrily. "You think that since we do not have the technology of your people that we are stupid and simple minded. We are not stupid. We know what you are doing. You are trying to trick us so that you have everything and we have nothing. We will no longer make trade with the Reliance."

"Good, you shouldn't," Bradley said. "Only listen to me. If you do not take the gold off your bodies and bury it in a deep hole far from your people, then you will die. You will all die."

The King laughed again. "I cannot die; I am a god. My soul will simply be moved into the body of the Chosen One."

The man Bradley assumed was the head priest shook with apparent excitement, then bent down and whispered excited words into the King/God's ear. The King's face at first looked amazed and then if it was possible more angry than before. He arose shakily from his throne and walked around Bradley and Jackson, looking them over.

"So," he said at length. "This is the game that you play. You bring some illness here to afflict me, and then you kidnap the Chosen One so that when I die my soul will have nowhere to go. Your own evil shall be your undoing. Guards! Take their weapons and throw them into the dungeon." He stopped and glared into Bradley's face. "When your Captain returns my son, then I shall return you two."

"We do not have your son," Bradley assured him. "Our Captain will not bargain with you; it isn't our custom."

Jackson looked at him as the guards started to take their weapons, but Bradley shook his head. They couldn't fight their way out of here. Not right now. Even if they could Stratton had just informed him that she was leaving with the ship, so there was nowhere to run. Jackson let go of his weapon reluctantly and the guards started to lead them away.

Bradley baulked, turned back to the King and tried once more, "We don't have your son!" The guards began to drag them out. "It's the gold which is going to kill you. Think about it! When did you get sick? Damn it, we are trying to help you! You don't understand the ways of our people, or you would know that by doing this we put ourselves at great risk. Why not remove the gold from yourselves and see if you don't get better? See if I'm telling the truth or not. What could be the harm in that?"

"I will hear no more of your lies! Take them away!" the King screamed, waving his stumps dismissively.

* * *

The King sat on his throne with his head perched on one of his stumps thoughtfully.

"What are you thinking?" the high priest asked Taheed.

"What if . . . What if he's telling the truth, and it is the gold metal which is making us sick?" Taheed asked.

"How could metal make a man sick? Has the gold metal of your office that you have worn since taking over from your father ever made you ill?"

"No, but . . ."
"Did not the gods speak through us saying that it is wholly good and right that we should trade our warriors for gold and cloth? This illness is something brought by the Reliance so they may now take back what is rightfully ours. The illness will pass, the gods have said so . . ."

"Do you really think that they are responsible for Taleed's disappearance?" Taheed asked.

"I do not know. I cannot be certain. I will ask the gods when I return to the Temple tonight."

"While you are at it, ask where he is," Taheed commanded.

"I will ask, but you know that such questions often have answers which are not easily read, for the gods answer in mysterious ways . . . I will leave now, and return to the Temple. I shall talk to the gods and perhaps have answers for you shortly."

"Ziphed, my brother," Taheed called out to the priest's departing form.

The high priest turned to look at the King. "Yes, My Lord?"

"Why is it that I cannot talk to the gods? Would it not be more expedient that way? Wouldn't it be better if I asked the gods questions and they answered me directly?"
"You do not have the gift – few Kings have. It is a gift more suitably given to the brothers of the King, to the priests. It is our calling. When we hear the voices in our heads we know that the gods have chosen us to speak with them and to tell those who cannot hear them what is their will." Ziphed bowed and then left.

Taheed did not feel satisfied with Ziphed's answer. He got up and started to pace in front of the window. The fact that he felt well enough to do this proved – at least to him – that the alien's medicine was helping.

"How can I be sure of what the gods say if they do not say them to me?" Taheed asked. "One day he tells me that my disease is caused by the gods because they're angry that Taleed has run off. Now he tells me that the disease is caused by the actions of the Reliance, and that my son has not run off, but has been taken. The man in the dungeon says he no longer works for the Reliance. He gives us medicine that – while it does not cure, certainly has made us feel better. He says the gold makes us ill." He noticed then that Yashi was nodding and grunting excitedly. Yashi held out his arms for the King to see, and the King noticed for the first time that Yashi was not sick. "Yashi . . . You do not have the sickness!"

Yashi nodded more excitedly, and pointed to the chains on the King's neck and then to his own bare neck

"Are you saying . . . Is that what you have been trying to say all along? Do you think it is the gold?" Taheed asked.

The mute nodded his head vigorously.

Taheed took the mass of gold chains from his neck and looked at them. He didn't feel any different, still . . . "If the priests say one thing one day and something else the next, then there is a chance that man is telling the truth. Who is to say that your council is not equal to that of the priests? If I am a god – and I must believe that I am – then my own judgment should be as good as any priest's – or better. Yashi, take these chains and all other Reliance gold from the throne room and bury it in the palace garden. Then go into the city to Jarish the Jeweler who weaves reeds into fine chains. Buy from him enough of the gold-colored reed chains to take the place of the real gold ones. In this way the priests will never know that I did not heed their council. If I should get well while the priests remain ill, then the gold is poison and I will deal with the Reliance accordingly. "I begin to believe, Yashi, that I have been very poorly advised. If you and the man in the dungeons are correct, then I must think seriously what I should do – about many things. Perhaps I will tell the priests, and perhaps I will not. It depends mostly on what they tell me concerning what the gods have told them about my son."

* * *

Bradley paced back and forth behind the bars of the cell in what had no doubt been the old ship's brig. He and Jackson were not alone. Several of the cells were occupied including the one on their right. On a planet where metal was scarce you would have thought this ship would have been torn down long ago and used to make tools. As Stratton had suggested some of the original occupants of this ship must have lived and obviously they had set themselves up as gods to the simple natives that lived here. The survivors and the natives made this place into some holy cathedral, thus keeping it from being cannibalized to make picks and shovels.

Stratton was suddenly talking to him again.

"Bradley, if you guys are alive, you'd better come back. We're not risking our asses to rescue cadavers, over."

The transmission was fuzzy; no doubt because of the thickness of the hull on this antique, but still audible. He just hoped his reply could get out.

He looked around to make sure none of the other prisoners were watching him and raised the wrist-com to his mouth, punching the button.

"Stratton, this is Bradley, we have been incarcerated in the old ship's brig. Repeat. We have been incarcerated. Can you read?"

"Barely," came back the reply.

He smiled at Jackson and held thumbs up. Jackson let out a relieved sigh and sat down for the first time since they had been put in the cell.

"Incarcerated is better than dead," Stratton continued. "Get back to me with the particulars – where the brig is located, how well guarded, etc., and we'll see what we can do about getting you out of there."
"I'll see what I can find out. Don't try anything crazy. No sense in all of us winding up in here or worse. Over."

"Not much chance of that; I'm no hero. I at least want to wait till dark. There are a lot of them, so the only way we're going to get you out of there is by using our heads, not with force or bravado. Over," Stratton said

"Keep transmissions to a minimum. Remember the natives aren't our only problem. If the Reliance finds out what we've been doing they'll be on us like stink on a turd. Every time we use the transmitter we risk detection. Over," Bradley replied.

"With the pulses it's doubtful that planet to planet communications would be picked up by the station, but just in case change your channel to 00 opt 9. What the hell happened in there anyway? Over," Stratton asked.

"I will change my setting when we close transmission. Good thinking. They thought we were trying to trick them out of their gold. Suffice it to say that it just doesn't pay to try to be a nice guy. Over and out." He lowered his wrist and moved to sit beside Jackson.

"Well?" Jackson asked.

"We need to find out as much as we can and then radio Stratton. Realistically I don't know what they can do. There are only two of them and about a gazillion of these bastards running around," Bradley said.

Jackson nodded.

"Yes, but none of them are the King's guards," the native guy in the next cell said in Reliance.

Bradley and Jackson both jumped, and then turned around to stare at the man. He was dressed as many of the other natives were in a simple cloth loin-cloth and sleeveless shirt made of rough brown fabric. His face shone with a friendly smile that was almost too big for his face.

"What do you mean?" Bradley asked him.

"The King's guards are highly trained fighters, and they know the palace well. But the King's guards all gone looking for the Chosen One, who has run away for these many times," he said in his broken Reliance.

Bradley found that he had to play back what the man had said in his mind to understand what he was actually saying.

"Run away?" Bradley asked.

"Oh, yes, he does it all the time," the native said and then fell silent.

"Why?" Bradley asked

The man looked at him silently and smiled.

"Why does he run away?" Bradley asked slowly, thinking that perhaps the man hadn't understood his question.

"You going to break out?" the man asked.

Bradley thought for only a second about lying to the fellow and then said, "Why do you ask?"

"I thought you would be smart men," he laughed. "I'm in here; I want out. You get me out with you; I tell you what I know and help us all get out."

"If we're breaking out, and you help us by telling us what we need to know, then we would help you get out as well," Bradley promised.

He smiled and nodded, then started talking. "Rumor has it that the Chosen One is very unhappy. That he doesn't want to be the King or a god. He has his own spirit and wants to keep it that way. For this reason he and his servant run away all the time. But this time he has been gone longer than ever before, much longer. So the King has sent away all of his personal guards to go out in search of the Chosen One and his companion. The men who fill the Temple now are not the King's guard. They are simple fighters from the town, chosen by the priests to fill in while the palace retinue is away. Since wars are not allowed in the holy city, these men have never even seen an actual battle. What's more, they get lost easily in the palace. This is why they are running around like crazy people. They are lost. If your friends on the outside were to dress like us, they could sneak in undetected, and we could all be out of here before they even missed us.

"Only one problem with that," Bradley said with a smile. "We are a different color than you are. Our friends are too, and one of them is a woman." Bradley noticed that the native's Reliance was getting better. Either that, or his ear was becoming accustomed to his speech, because he was much easier to understand.

"Yes, that could be a problem," the man said thoughtfully shaking his head. Then he snapped his fingers. "I've got it . . . They could dress like the gods."

"How could they do that?" Bradley asked. "What do your gods look like?"

"Like a man in a space suit," he said matter-of-factly. "You have space suits, don't you?"

Bradley remembered then what Stratton had said when they first got here about removing their suits. "Yes, but how . . . What are you here for anyway?"

The man laughed. "Sirs, you are looking at a defrocked priest. I read the holy books. I know what happened to the former inhabitants of this place. I know that this is a space ship. I know that the voices that talk in my head and those of my brothers are a genetic legacy of insanity, and that they have nothing to do with hearing any god. I simply tell the voices to shut up. Sometimes they even listen. I tried to tell my brothers the truth, but they called me a blasphemer and threw me out of the Temple into the street, where I lived for many years as a common fish cleaner. But when my brother the King started to sell our people into slavery, I could remain silent no longer. I spoke openly against him and the priests. I told the people the truth about our so-called gods. They threw rocks at me for my trouble, and I was thrown into jail. So you see, I know the palace is just a space ship, the cloud god is just a thermo generator, and our King is just a man whom the priests have maimed to serve their purpose. And I can help you get out of here."

Bradley was inclined to agree. Together the three of them started to form a plan.

* * *

Yashi was on his way back to the palace with a bag full of the gold colored reed chains. The chains had become very popular since the priests and King had started wearing chains of the yellow metal. Yashi had been more than a little afraid that he would not find enough in Jarish's whole store to supply what the King needed, but the jeweler had enough – just.

Gradually Yashi became aware that he was being followed. He turned quickly and out of the corner of his eye he saw someone melt into the shadows. Yashi instantly knew who had sent the spy, and why he was being tailed. When he turned the next corner he stopped, laid the bag of fragile chains on the ground out of harm's way and waited. When the following priest rounded the corner, Yashi grabbed him and slung him against the building with force. The priest turned frightened eyes to Yashi. Yashi was a big, formidable looking man made strong from years of doing the work of two.

Yashi looked at the priest with murder in his eyes. There was something about having your tongue cut out and branded a slave in infancy on the whim of a priest that just made you grow up hating them. Till now he had never dared to lay hands on one, but right now he was working for the King, doing his bidding. That meant that this priest was in fact spying on the God/King, and therefore Yashi in his position as the King's hands was well within his rights.

"Yashi, you are not to touch the priests! You let me go at once!" the priest screamed.

Yashi was unable to question the man because he had no tongue. Unable to question him, he couldn't be certain that the priest didn't mean the King harm. So he slammed him into the wall as hard as he could forty times and then buried his body in the same spot in the palace garden that he had buried the tainted gold. Then he took the chains to the King.

"Yashi . . . I was worried," the King looked him over. "Are you all right?"

Yashi nodded his head gravely.

"Good, I need to go to the bathroom."

Yet another reason for Yashi to hate the priests.

* * *

Stratton set the skiff down in a grove of short trees just outside the capital that didn't come close to hiding it, and she and Decker made their way through the city at night carrying their space suits. Ahead of them they heard some screaming and ducked out of cover just long enough to witness the violent murder of a priest. Stratton leaned against the wall panting heavily and looked at Decker who looked like he was as close to throwing up as she was. They couldn't get involved; they were here to get Bradley and Jackson out of prison. That was their mission. Straying from their mission to try and help these people is what had caused all their problems in the first place.

When the big man carried his victim away, Stratton and Decker started to move again. The night was warm, which is why they had chosen to carry the space suits rather than wear them. They were somewhat climate controlled, but without the addition of cooling packs – yet more weight – wearing them would still cause you to burn completely alive after just a few minutes of walking on a hot planet with a gravitational pull stronger than what you were used to. But carrying the damn things wasn't much better. They were bulky and hard to hang on to. When the antiquated space ship was in sight they stopped and donned their suits. Then weapons in hand they started for the ship.

As they got to the door the two guards on duty dropped to the ground, prostrating themselves before them. Stratton smiled satisfactorily, and looked at the directions that Bradley had given her, and that she had programmed into her wrist-com. She was glad to have the map as they got into the belly of the ship. It was poorly laid out, and it would be far too easy to get lost. All of the guards they passed had the same reaction to them as the ones they had passed at the entrance.

Decker looked at her and smiled. "This is too easy," he said. He had no sooner spoken the words than they went around a corner, and there stood a priest. He looked at them, pointed, and started babbling excitedly in his native tongue.

Stratton had no idea what he was saying, but from the reactions of the three guards with him it was obvious that he knew they were fakes, and that his words were enough to convince the guards who immediately became aggressive.

The two guards closest to them ran forward, spears at the ready. She blasted one and the priest just for good measure as Decker took out the other two. Then she followed the computer drawn map at a run to the brig, Decker right behind her. Five guards who had apparently heard the commotion down the hall seemed to be confused about how to react to them. They couldn't seem to decide whether they should be worshiping them or killing them. She smacked one hard in the face with the butt of her rifle when he got too close, and as he went reeling into the bars of a cell, she made her way to the control panel. She didn't bother to try and figure out which button controlled which cell. Bradley and Jackson might be in any of them, so she just opened them all hoping to save time and further confuse the guards with a large scale prison break.

Absolute pandemonium beyond her wildest dreams followed the release of the prisoners. The guards were running around trying to stop the prisoners, and the prisoners seemingly preferred open conflict with the guards to actually fleeing. In all the mayhem it took several minutes for them to locate Bradley and Jackson, or more accurately for Bradley and Jackson to find them. There was a native man with Bradley, and from the way he clung to Bradley's shirt it was obvious that he had no intention of being left behind.

Just as they all came together a guard came at them screaming with his spear raised. Decker fired his weapon and hit his target, but unfortunately not before the warrior had released his spear. The primitive weapon struck Decker square in the chest, and Decker went down – making it pretty obvious to all the guards that there were people in the suits, not gods. If the guards hadn't been so busy exchanging blows with the other prisoners, they would have no doubt come after them more effectively.

Realizing that they were running short on time, Bradley grabbed Decker's weapon as Jackson grabbed Decker and threw him over his shoulder. They made a run for the exit. The native had let go of Bradley and was now leading the way out. Stratton lost count of how many of them she killed as she took point, and she was glad to know that Bradley was watching their backs. He wasn't military, but he was more capable then most of the soldiers she knew.

Once out of the palace area, the native tugged on her arm and led them to a service hatch that opened into a cargo bay. He opened the door to reveal an ancient land rover. They all ran for cover in the storage compartment, and the native explained as he was getting in the vehicle and sitting down.

"It rolls, it runs, we can use it to get away."

Bradley jumped in the driver's seat and looked at the dashboard. It wasn't a difficult machine to figure out, and it looked as if it had been well maintained. He turned the key that stuck out of what he thought must be the ignition, and it started right up. Jackson laid Decker in the back and then unplugged the land rover. Stratton, who had been firing at the natives from the doorway, holding them off, jumped in as Bradley drove up next to her.

The vehicle wasn't very fast, but it was more than fast enough to out run the spears and the natives on foot. Still, Bradley didn't dare to breathe again until they were out of the city. Stratton sat beside him giving him directions to where they had left the skiff. When he saw it he got a strange since of homecoming. He pulled the land rover over next to it and parked.

The native immediately jumped out of the vehicle and started to walk away fast. "Thank you! Thank you very much."

Bradley ran after him catching hold of his arm. "Where do you think you're going?"

"To the next village. Thank you, thank you very much." He started to walk away again, and was brought up short because Bradley still had a hold on his arm.

"We still need your help. We know very little about your planet, and we do not speak your language. Because we tried to help your very ungrateful King we may be stuck here for the rest of our natural lives. We're going to need a guide," Bradley explained.

The native sighed, looking resolved. "All right." He sighed again. "I'll help you." He started mumbling something in his native tongue. Bradley could only guess at what he was actually saying.

Jackson and Stratton had retrieved the pocket medic and were both bent over Decker in the vehicle.

"How is he?" Bradley asked walking over.

"Not good," Stratton said in a whisper. "The spear is close to his heart. It's more than a pocket medic can handle. He needs a doctor."

"Do you have doctors?" Bradley asked the native, who was still mumbling.

"The priests all know medicine," he said walking over and looking at Decker and then walking quickly away.

Bradley grabbed his arm again. "And you're a priest."

"Was . . ."

"You still know how to doctor wounds," Bradley said dragging him back over to Decker.

"That's bad," Jessit said. "Maybe Jessit would try to fix your friend, and maybe he would die anyway. And maybe when he dies you will blame Jessit, and then kill him or worse."

"What could be worse than killing you?" Jackson half growled at him.

"I can think of lots of things," Jessit said.

"I'll tell you what, Shit Head, if you don't try to save my friend, and he dies, I'll figure out what one of those things are and do it," Jackson said heavily.

Bradley glared at Jackson, silently letting him know that he wanted him to shut up. "If you try to help him, I promise no harm will come to you whether he lives or dies."

Jessit nodded. "We will need light and medical supplies." He turned to Jackson. "My name is Jessit, J-e-s-s-i-t. Not Sheet-he'd, or whatever you said."

* * *

They had carried Decker into the skiff, and the native had familiarized himself with their medical equipment, checked out the wound, and then gone on a search for plants he said were medicinal. Bradley sent Jackson with him because he didn't trust Jessit to return on his own.

When Jessit returned he carefully laid out several different leaves and twig-looking things, and a dead lizard as thick as a pencil and long as his palm. He did the same with the medical tools.

Then he stuck his hands on the spear, grunted loudly and shoved it through.

"What the hell!" Jackson started to rush forward, and Bradley grabbed him.

"The heads are lashed and grooved in such a manner that if you pull on them they come off in the body cavity, or pull his insides out with them. Neither is very good," Jessit explained. He rolled the injured man on his side, grabbed the head of the spear with forceps and pulled it out. Then he untied the spearhead and removed it from the shaft. Only then did he pull the shaft out. He slapped one of the leaves on the wound in Decker's back and applied direct pressure. It quit bleeding almost at once. He then rolled Decker back onto his back. After moving the clothing out of the way, he took a scalpel from the tools and made the incision bigger. Then he stuck his hand in the opening and started feeling around. "The heart is fine, but it is as I feared, his lung has been nicked and is collapsed." He withdrew his hand, picked up one of three hollow reeds he had laid out on the table and carefully inserted it into the hole he had found in Decker's lung. Then he stuck the lizard into the reed tube and blew.

"What the fuck are you doing!" Jackson screamed.

"The lizard will repair the damage in the lung," Jessit explained.

"A dead lizard! Come on, Sergeant, he's killing him for sure."

"The lizard is not dead. He is sleeping. At night when the temperature drops the roseau lizard falls into a deep sleep like a coma. Your friend's body temperature will awaken him. In trying to escape from the prison he finds himself in, he will run around finding holes. They will not be big enough for him to exit, and he will become frightened. When he becomes frightened his skin emits a medicine that seals lung tissue, and he will leave this medicine behind him, sealing the punctures. Eventually he will find the natural air entrance to the lung and come out in either your friend's nose or his mouth. You must tell your friend to bring him up and not to swallow him or in any way damage a creature which has done him nothing but good, for if he injures it bad luck will fall on him like a poorly made tent."

"That's crazy. Lieutenant . . . You can't actually think that. . . that. . . lizard is going to save Decker."

Stratton shrugged. "Our own medicines have come from sources just as strange. We have used maggots to help cure gang green and leeches to help remove clotting around reattachments. We know nothing of this planet. None of us know any more than basic first aid. This man obviously believes in this treatment. As primitive as his medical techniques may seem to be, he still knows more than we do. He's Decker's only shot."

Jessit, who had stopped working on Decker, looked at Bradley. Bradley nodded and Jessit went back to work. He removed the reed from the chest cavity, wrung one of the plants out over the incision and the wound started to foam. When it stopped foaming he wiped it clean and then stuck another of the leaves over the entrance wound and again all bleeding stopped. Jessit rose to his full height and wiped the sweat off his brow.

"Now we wait," he said.

Stratton gave Decker a shot of antibiotics with the pocket medic, thinking that it couldn't hurt.

"We need to move," Bradley said.

"Where to?" Stratton asked.

"Anywhere away from here. Before either the Reliance or the natives can find us," Bradley answered

Stratton nodded. That made sense. "We could go to the village where the transmat was sabotaged. If it was the New Alliance . . . Well, then maybe we could hook up with them. If not and the Reliance finds us it will at least look like we're trying to do our job."

"And if it wasn't the New Alliance, which is just as likely, then we will be walking into a village full of angry natives who will no doubt see us as the same sort of scum they have driven from their land and attack us, too," Bradley said.

"We could get close to the village, do a reconnaissance, and find out just exactly what did happen," Jackson suggested.

"That sounds good," Bradley said looking at Stratton. She nodded. "Have we severed all communication links with the station?"

"Yes, and the pulses should make it difficult if not impossible to trace the skiff's ozone trail. However with all communications shut down they will assume we've been killed, and it will only be a matter of time before they send a full military away team including one or more GSH's to see what's happened to us. No doubt they won't be in a skiff, but a fully operational battle cruiser," Stratton assured him.

Bradley looked troubled for a minute, then he smiled as he suddenly had a brilliant idea. "We're doing this all wrong. Restore the link with the ship."

"Why . . . Are you nuts."

"No, actually. I just started thinking clearly," Bradley said excitedly. "Don't you see? If there is no form of communication from the planet to the station, then they can't know anything that we have done. We can tell Briggs whatever we think he wants to hear."

"How do we explain that we have been out of touch ever since our arrival?" Stratton asked.

"Tell him there was trouble with the ship on entry," Bradley said. "That I was just now able to repair the damage done to the communications system. Hell, blame it on the pulses. God knows we've been blaming everything that's gone wrong on them ever since we got here."

"What if he doesn't buy our bullshit and sends someone to check it out?" Jackson asked.

Suddenly Bradley started laughing.

"What's so funny?" Jackson asked.

"Well, just think about it. If they come to look for us they'll go to the Capital first, and just think what they'll be walking into," Bradley said.

Stratton laughed, too, then. "They'll be too busy dealing with the natives to worry about where we are, or what we're doing."

 

 

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Framed