Empire of Two Worlds

We seemed to fly for quite a while. About halfway through the journey our guards opened a hatch in the floor and gazed through it with interest, smiling. One glanced at me, speaking to his companions in a strange language. What he said seemed to please them. He came across and dragged me nearer the hatch, so that I, too, could see through it.

We were passing leisurely over a level plain. Through it wound a seemingly endless column of wretched Rheattites strung together by chains. Many of them appeared to be dead or unconscious but were still dragged along helplessly by their fellows. The column was policed by Meramites riding smaller versions of the circular transport platforms. Shouts, screams and the sharp crack of whips floated up to us. I saw upturned green faces watching our passage. On either side of me the guards uttered cruel, humourless chuckles.

Then they thought of a new sport. One grabbed me by the legs and another under the armpits, and I was swung out over the open hatch. The breeze tugged at me. They jigged me up and down, pretending to let go. I closed my eyes. I didn’t think a couple of rank and file klugs would have the nerve to murder a prisoner in their charge, but I didn’t know much about how Meramites behave. I was scared.

I felt a lurch, for a split second felt myself sailing through the air, then fell roughly to the deck again. The guards sniggered.

“Take it easy, Klein,” Bec murmured. “We’ll have our turn.”

The people of Rheatt didn’t build cities. Their civilisation was more dispersed, more rural. They did have centres of loose concentration, however — what would pass for cities for them. We flew over the main one and were able to see something of it through the open hatch.

It was like a vast park stretching beyond the horizon in all directions. There were broad walks, gardens and groves. The buildings were few and scattered, and consisted mostly of tall, delicate green towers.

The scene would have been a really pretty one had it not been for the fact that the Meramites had chosen to set up their main camp there. A maze of continuous, low corridor-like buildings sprawled across the park and snaked between the green towers, rather like a system of tunnels built above the ground. Their colour was grey, the same as everything else about the Meramites.

I was beginning to realise that we from Killibol had more in common with the Meramites than with the people of Rheatt. Like us, they had a distaste for the open. They were city dwellers, ruthless, smart and practical. If anything, they were several degrees more vicious. I hoped this meant that they had a streak of stupidity in their make-up, the kind that Bec would know how to take advantage of.

The flying cylinder slanted down and came to rest. We were manhandled on to one of the circular vehicles and wheeled into the corridor complex. These corridors reminded me of endless barracks. They were lit by a strange whitish illumination, quite unlike the light outside. Uniformed Meramites stared at us in puzzlement as we were carried along.

The angles at which some of the corridors branched off at the intersections told me that the invaders had also been busy digging underground. They also, maybe, hid away from the sun.

We were thrown into a darkened room and lay there for a short while. I asked Bec if he had any ideas. He said just to keep cool, to take my cue from him, and if left on my own not to say anything even if they got rough. I asked Harmen if he had any ideas. The alk just grunted.

The door opened and they dragged away Bec. Shortly afterwards the door opened again.

“Which one is Klein?” the tall figure in the doorway said in his boyish voice.

“I am,” I said, and immediately was jerked to my feet and the ropes binding them cut. “I’ll be seeing you,” I said to Harmen, “I hope.”

They led me down a sloping passage and into a large, fairly luxurious room. Bec was there, without his eye-shades and with his eyes tightly closed against the glare. His jacket and shirt had been ripped off. Blood ran down his side from where a torturer’s instruments had been at work. The torturer stood on one side of the room, the bloody pincers still in his hands.

But he was only a bit player in the scene. Bec faced an even larger than average Meramite who sat behind a table on which were laid devices that were strange to me. I guessed immediately that he was a big shot. Behind him stood two more companions, themselves of high rank judging by their insignia, but who stood respectfully at attention.

Bec’s face was drawn, but he had evidently managed to control the pain. His blind face turned towards me.

“Is that you, Klein?” he asked, speaking Klittmann.

“That’s right, Bec,” I answered.

“I want you to meet Chief Imnitrin, grand commander of the invasion forces and one of the big chiefs up on Merame. I insisted on having you here so you would know what was going on.” To the Meramite, in Rheattite, he said: “Now we can talk. But first the covers for my eyes.”