I didn’t have time to ask him why he’d run off and why he’d suddenly returned, because the crowd erupted into action. Four vrak began dragging the bodies of the guards away.
Skrew grabbed my hand and practically hauled me after him. I got the picture, shook Skrew’s hand free, and dashed into the jungle.
We slowed after a few seconds. Skrew was breathing hard, so I waited for him to catch up.
I picked a spot far enough from a well-worn trail that if any of the aliens came looking for us, we could slip away before they got close. But the spot also provided a decent view of the clearing.
A group of larger vrak in plate armor scanned the area around the torture cages and devices. They were illuminated by stick-like torches blazing white in their hands. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, and I could only see silhouettes now and then. But it looked as if our escape, and the death of the guards, had been concealed.
They’re the same species, I mused. But when I killed two of them, they practically celebrated.
If I had to hazard a guess, I’d have said the villagers were under some kind of regime, led by the fat vrak who’d sentenced Skrew to death in that little ceremony. And these armored guards were his soldiers. I’d just killed a pair of them and set a prisoner free. I couldn’t imagine the fat “chieftain” would send out a search party only to invite me into his home and feed me the vrak version of fine dining.
I looked down at the small amulet still held in my fist. I wasn’t sure if it was a trophy, but I decided to treat it like one. I placed the loop over my neck and tucked the small object beneath my shirt.
Several minutes later, the guards left, and the village was shrouded in darkness again.
“You left me,” I whispered to Skrew. “I thought you’d run off—fled.”
“Skrew did flee, and is sorry,” he said. “No phylac means okay to kill. Jacob holds phylac. Jacob holds life. Skrew will never leave unless Jacob says to.”
That was a pretty powerful vow. One that no sane creature would make lightly, so I wasn’t sure I believed it. Skrew wasn’t what I would have called sane. But from the look in his eyes and the tone of his voice, it seemed he believed it. Good enough for me.
“How far to shelter?” I asked.
Skrew looked around, sniffed the air, and stared at the stars for a moment before answering. “Two hours. That way.” He lifted one arm to the left of where we’d entered the jungle. “But must go around town. Not safe to go through, no, not safe. Two hours moving slow. Half if running, but not if being chased, no. Then dead maybe.”
“Two hours it is, then,” I said, though I didn’t think we had much risk of ending up dead.
Skrew’s species had tamed part of the jungle. They were surviving. They had some form of government. But I wasn’t impressed with their fighting ability. Not yet, anyway. If provided with the opportunity, I might kill another guard or two using nothing but my fists. I felt like I needed the data. I needed to test their mettle and mine.
You will be granted strength of our strength, memories of our memories, and knowledge from beyond.
The words from the Lakunae whispered at me from somewhere far away. It might have been my memory. It might have been something closer. Either way, the message was loud and clear. The space squids had changed something within me, mentally and physically.
I wondered whether I could survive a slug to the chest. Maybe I didn’t need that kind of data. I’d only seen one vrak guard with a rifle; I just hoped he hadn’t joined the search party. Otherwise, I’d learn exactly how much the Lakunae’s little hyperspace experiment had changed my physiology.
A few minutes later, we were skulking through the jungle again. I thought about sending out Skrew about 10 yards parallel me to act as a picket—someone to make sure nobody was trying to flank us if they knew we were coming. Then, I remembered how helpless he was, fleeing from battle like that. As a guide, I respected him, but whatever he was, my Martian upbringing told me he was no soldier.
A sound froze me to the ground and raised goosebumps on my arms. I held my breath and heard it again. It was a scream, weak and shrill. It didn’t sound like one of the vrak. It sounded human.
“We need to go,” Skrew hissed.
“Is that a human?” I asked.
He made a face, shook his head, and waved a hand dismissively.
“Is that a human?” I growled, grabbing him by one of his arms. “Does she look more like me than you?”
“Yes,” he hissed as he struggled to get away.
She could be from the Revenge. A female crew member who’d landed on this planet like me. Except she hadn’t managed to keep herself safe from its inhabitants.
“She is slave,” Skrew said. “She does not matter. She is owned by mean Cobble. Many months now. Part of Cobbles’ furniture.”
Then she wasn’t from the Revenge. Still, I couldn’t move on. Not when I’d heard that dreaded word. Slave. It drove an icicle through my heart.
I turned my head toward where the woman’s voice had come from.
You’ve made a clean break, a voice whispered in my head. You’re on your way to shelter. You’re a survivor.
But I was also a man. There was a lot I could tolerate, but torture and slavery were two things I couldn't live with. They were the only things I’d never live with.
“No rescue,” Skrew said as he stepped front of me. He was showing all his tiny rows of sharp teeth in what I guessed was the vrak version of a smile. “We go, yes? To shelter. Nice and snuggly. The shelter is warm. Is safe. Yes?”
“Yes,” I said,
