To The Stars

“You did that and you thought you. could get away with it. Well; it’s not going to happen that way. You’ve been condemned…”

“Without a trial?”

“You had a trial; it was all very fair. I was there.” He giggled. “The evidence was conclusive. You have been condemned to die for your crimes. So why should we waste good water on you?”

“You cannot.” Jan swayed, dizzy, and leaned against the door frame.

“It’s all over for you, Kulozik. Why don’t you crawl, beg me to help you? I might consider that.”

He waggled the gun in Jan’s face. Jan shuddered back, too weak to stand, sliding toward the floor…

Seizing Rein’s ankles and pulling them out from under the big man, sending him crashing back against the other Proctor. Jan had learned about dirty infighting from his karate teacher who had made a hobby of it; these men knew nothing about the nastier kinds of personal combat.

The gun was clumsy in Rein’s left hand and Jan pushed it aside as Rein pulled the trigger. There was just the single shot and then Rein screamed as Jan’s knee came up full into his groin. The other Proctor fared no better. The fist in his ribs drove the air from his lungs. His gun was still in its holster when he was battered into unconsciousness by the savage chops to his neck.

Rein was not unconscious, but glassy-eyed, rolling in agony, clutching himself, his mouth a round O of pain. Jan took his gun as well — then kicked him solidly in the side of the head.

“I want you both to be quiet for a while,” he said. He dragged the still forms into the storeroom and locked them in.

What came next? He was free for the moment — but there was no place to flee to. And he wanted more than freedom. They needed that corn and the trains would have to make the return trip. But the Family Heads had decided against this. He could appear before them, but knew that would accomplish nothing. They had condemned him to death in absentia, they certainly would not listen to him now. If The Hradil were not there he might convince them — no, he knew that would make no difference. Killing her would accomplish nothing.

The only thing that would make any difference, save his life and possibly the lives and futures of everyone on this planet, would be some major changes. But what changes — and how could they he brought about? He could think of no easy answers. First things first — a drink of water. There was a bucket in the corner filled with water where the Proctors had been cooling beer. Jan took out the few remaining bottles and raised the bucket to his lips, drinking and drinking until he could drink no more. He poured the rest over his head, gasping with pleasure at the cooling shock. Only then did he click open the ceramic stopper on a beer bottle and sip from it. The rudiments of a plan were beginning to form. Yet he could do nothing alone. But who would help him? Doing anything at all would necessitate going against the will of the Family Heads. Or had they overreached themselves this time? If his trial and verdict had been reached in secret he might very well get some cooperation. He needed information before he could do anything else.

The guns that he had taken from the Proctors were pushed inside an empty seed sack, the butt of one of them close enough to reach in a hurry. There was only silence from the cell: it would be some time before there was trouble from that flank. Now — what was happening outside?

Jan eased the outside door open a crack and looked through. Nothing. An empty street, dusty and drab under the twilight sky. He opened the door wide and stepped through, then strode steadily toward the silent trains.

And stopped. Had there been a massacre? Bodies everywhere. Then he smiled at his black thoughts. They were sleeping, of course. Free of the trains, safely arrived, rest after the storm; they had all eaten and drunk themselves into near extinction. Then, instead of getting back into the jammed and noisome cars, they had sprawled and slept where they dropped. This was wonderful; it could not have been better if it had been planned. The Family Heads must be asleep as well and they were the only ones he had to worry about at the moment. Moving quickly and quietly, he walked down the lengths of the trains until he came to the Ciou family. As always, things were still neatly organized here, the sleeping mats laid out in neat rows, women and children together to one side. He went past them to the still forms of the men, stepping lightly, until he found Lee Ciou. His face was calm in sleep, the worried crease always present between his eyes now erased for the first time to Jan’s knowledge. He knelt and shook Lee lightly by the shoulder. Dark eyes slowly opened and the crease between them reappeared instantly as soon as Jan put a silencing finger to his lips. Lee obeyed the pantomime signals to rise silently and follow. He followed Jan up the ladder of the nearest engine and watched as he closed the door.

“What is it? What do you want?”