'Sign here.'
I signed. The ancient graybeard behind the desk passed over the plastic bag containing all of my worldly possessions, forcibly removed from me when I had been incarcerated. I reached for them but the fat guard reached even faster.
'Not yet, prisoner,' he said, whisking them away from my clutching fingers. 'These will be forwarded to the arresting authorities.'
'They're mine!'
'Take it up with them. All set, Rasco?'
'My name's not Rasco!'
'Mine is. Shut up,' the other guard said. A well-muscled and nasty individual whose right wrist was secured to my left by a pair of shining cuffs. He pulled hard on this connecting link so I stumbled toward him. 'You do what I say and no backtalk or fanny stuff.'
'Yes, sir. Sorry.'
I lowered my eyes in humility which caused him to smirk with assumed superiority. He should only know that I was using the opportunity to look more closely at the cuffs. Bulldog-Crunchers, sold throughout the known galaxy, guaranteed foolproof. Maybe proof against fools but I could open them in under two seconds. It was going to be a nice day.
Fatso walked on my right side, well-connected Rasco on my left. I marched in step with them, eager to leave the prison and examine the world waiting outside the League building. I had come here in a closed van and had seen nothing. Eagerness possessed me in expectation of a first glimpse of my new home; thoughts about my forceful removal from this planet may have preoccupied my guardians - but were the farthest thing from my mind at this moment.
Exiting the building was not easily done - and I gave myself another mental lack for even thinking of breaking out of this bunker-skyscraper. There were three doors to go out through, one after another, each sealed as tightly as an airlock. Our passes were slipped into computerized machines that hummed and clicked - then robot sensors examined our fingerprints and retinal patterns to make sure we matched the details on the passes. This was done three times before the outer portal hummed open and a wave of warm air, smell and sound washed in.
As we went down the steps to the street I gaped like a rube. I had never seen anything like this before. Of course my experience was strictly limited since this was only the third planet I had ever visited. My life on the porcuswine farms of Bit O'Heaven and my service in the swamps of Spiovente had not prepared me for the manifold impressions that bombarded me.
A wave of heat and dusty air washed over me. It was filled with pungent aromas, loud cries and a cacophony of strange noises. At the same time as my ears and nose were being assaulted my eyes bulged at the seething mass of humanity, the strange vehicles - and the four-legged alien creatures. One passed close by, a man sitting on its back, its great feet thudding on the ground, eyes rolling in my direction. Its mouth opened to reveal hideous yellow teeth and it squealed loudly. I drew back and my guards laughed aloud at this perfectly reasonable reaction.
'We'll protect you from the margh,' Fatso said, and they chortled with dim pleasure.
Maybe it was called a margh in the local lingo, but it was still a horse to me. I had seen them in the ancient history tapes at school. The creatures had been used for farming when Bit O'Heaven was first settled, but had soon succumbed to the deadly native life. Only the indestructible porcuswine had been able to survive. I looked more closely at the horse, at the obviously herbivorous teeth, and realized it posed no threat. But it was big. Two more of the creatures came up, towing a boxlike affair mounted on large wheels. The driver, sitting high above, pulled the thing to a stop when Rasco whistled to him.
'Get in,' Fatso ordered, swinging open a door in the vehicle's side. I held back, pointed with distaste.
'It's filthy in there! Can't the League Navy provide decent transportation…'
Rasco kicked me in the back of the leg so I fell forward. 'Inside - and no backtalk!' They climbed in after me. 'It is Navy policy to use native transport when possible, to aid the local economy. So shut up and enjoy.' I shut, but I didn't enjoy. I looked unseeingly at the crowded street as we rumbled away, thinking of the best way to escape my captors while inflicting a bit of damage on my sadistic companion. Now would be as good a time as any. Strike like lightning, then leave them both unconscious in this vehicle while I slipped away in the crowd. I bent over and scratched furiously at my ankle. 'I've been bitten! There are bugs in here!'
'Bite them back,' Fatso said and they both roared with juvenile laughter. Wonderful. Neither saw me slip the lockpick from my shoe and palm it. I turned toward Rasco with mayhem in mind just as the vehicle lurched to a stop and Fatso reached across and threw open the door. 'Out,' he ordered and Rasco pulled painftilly on the handcuff. I gaped at the marble-fronted building before us. 'This isn't the spaceport,' I protested.
'You got good eyes,' Rasco sneered and dragged me after him. 'A local version of a linear. Let's go.'
I decided I wouldn't. I had had more than enough of their repellent company. But I had to stumble after them for the moment, looking about for some opportunity - and seeing it just ahead. Men, and only men, were entering and exiting a doorway under a sign that proudly proclaimed PYCHER PYSA GORRYTH. Though I knew nothing of the local language I could figure this one out easily enough. I drew back and pointed.
'Before we get on the linear I gotta go in there.'
'No way,' Rasco said. Sadist. But I got unexpected aid from his companion.
'Take him in. It's going to be a long trip.' Rasco muttered disgustedly. But Fatso was obviously his superior because he pushed me forward. The pycher pysa was about as primitive as they come, a simple trough against one wall, a line of men facing it I headed for a vacant position on the far end and fumbled with my clothing. Rasco watched me with obvious displeasure. 'I can't do anything with you watching,' I wailed.
He rolled his eyes upward for a second. Just long enough for me to get his neck with my free hand. His look of surprise faded as I clamped down hard with my thumb. After this I had only to guide his unconscious fall to the tile floor. As he hit with a satisfactory thud I clicked open the cuff on my wrist. He snored lightly as I quickly frisked him, I had a reputation as a thief to live up to, and slipped his wallet from his hip pocket. It was safely hidden in my own before I stood and turned about. The row of men against the wall were all looking at me.
'He fainted,' I said, and they gaped with incomprehension. 'Li svenas,' I added, which did not clarify it for them in any way. I pointed to the unconscious copper, to the door, then at myself. 'I'm going for help. You lads keep an eye on him and I'll be right back.'
None of them was in any position to follow me as I scuttled out of the entrance. Practically into Fatso's arms. He shouted something and reached for me - but I was long gone. Out of the station and into the crowd. There were some more outcries from behind me but they soon died away as I twisted between two horses, around a coach and down a dark alley on the far side of the street. It was that easy.
The alley opened into another street, just as crowded as the first, and I strolled along it, just a part of the crowd. Free as a bird. I actually whistled as I walked, staring around at the sights, the veiled women and the brightly garbed men. This was the life!
Or was it? Alone on a primitive planet, not speaking the language, sought by the authorities - what did I have to be cheerful about? Black gloom descended instantly and I sneered aloud.'
'That's it, Jim? You turn coward at the slightest setback. For shame! What would The Bishop say to this?' He would say stop talking in public, I thought as I noticed the strange looks I was getting. So I whistled happily, not a care in the world, turned a corner and saw the tables and chairs, men sitting and drinking interesting beverages, under a sign that said SOSTEN HA GWYRAS which conveyed exactly nothing to me. But underneath it was printed NI PAROLOS ESPERANTO, BONVENUU. I hoped that they spoke Esperanto better than they wrote it. I found a table against the wall, dropped into a chair and snapped my fingers at the ancient waiter. 'Dhethplegadow,' he said.
'Plegadow the others,' I said. 'We speak Esperanto. What's to drink. Dad?'
'Beer, wine, dowr-tom-ys.'
'I'm just not in the mood for a dowr-tom-ys today. A large beer, if you please.'
When he turned away I dug out Rasco's wallet. If my guards were supposed to encourage the local economy they should be carrying some of the local currency. The wallet clunked when I dropped it onto the table, heavy with little metal discs. I shook one out and turned it over. It had the number two stamped into one side, with Arghans on the other.
