The man threw the chains over his shoulder, and hurried to a hoverer.
A moment later the hoverer of Abrogastes rose from the turf.
The slave, her body buffeted by wind and pelted with dust, stirred in Julian’s arms, but she did not recover consciousness.
Otto and Julian watched the departure of the hoverer of Abrogastes.
Within the hoverer, Otto surmised, though he could not make this determination, given the distance of the ship, the height of the gunwales, the armoring of the hull and such, would be a bound slave. Doubtless she would be, too, bound to metal rings, fixed in the plating of the hoverer’s deck. In any event that is a common way in which captives and slaves are secured in such a vessel. The arrangement not only keeps them fixed in place, which is fitting and desirable, but can, under certain circumstances, such as abrupt maneuvers, serve also to keep them literally within the vessel. She might be, as well, gagged, in order that, in the event of engagements or violent actions, of one sort of another, her responses would be less distractive.
Otto and Julian, the latter carrying the unconscious slave, made their way from the crowded area outside the tent, from the hurrying men, the assemblage of small ships.
They returned to the trail, which would lead downward, past the grove.
They paused on the height to look into the distance, to the meadow where the ship of Hendrix and Gundlicht had landed, that ship which had brought them to this world. It was a shambles of blackened steel.
Behind them the tent was ablaze.
Once again there was a piercing blast from the whistle.
On the trail downward, they met two men, the shieldsman and the clerk, who were hurrying upward, that they might reach the hoverers before they departed. The clerk averted his eyes as they passed. The shieldsman, for a moment, just for a moment, met the eyes of Otto, and then he, too, hurried past.
“Let us go to the woods edging the meadow,” said Otto.
“Good,” said Julian.
That portion of the woods, because of the destroyed ship, would not be likely to draw fire.
In a short while, on the way downward, they came to a grove. Otto paused on the trail at that place.
Then he continued on, followed by Julian.
A quarter of an hour later they had crossed the meadow, and entered the woods.
It was dusk now.
One could still see a glow, and, in places, flames, from the height of the plateau.
Hoverers, like dots, some in formation, rose from the plateau, and then moved eastward.
Smoke, a darkness against a darkness, billowed upward.
“We are safe now,” said Julian.
They stood at the edge of the trees, looking upward, toward the trail, the grove, the height of the plateau.
Behind them they had placed Gerune on the leaves.
With a vine they had lashed together her ankles and, with the same vine, extended from her ankles, fastened her to a tree.
She was still unconscious.
“But we are stranded on this world,” said Otto.
“I do not think so,” said Julian.
“Oh?” said Otto.
“No, my friend,” said Julian. “I do not think so. Rest now, if you wish, and I will watch.”
There was a tiny whimper behind them, and they turned about. Gerune moved a little in the darkness. One could hear the crinkling of the leaves.
“She is recovering consciousness,” said Otto.
“Oh, oh,” moaned Gerune. Then she cried, “Oh!” and there was the sound of her ankles pulling suddenly against the vine which fastened her to the tree.
“Be silent,” said Julian, going to crouch near the slave.
She slid forward on the leaves, that she might sit upright.
She looked at Julian.
He took her head in his hands, holding her helplessly, and pressed his lips fiercely upon hers.
She uttered tiny sounds of protest but they were muffled in the uncompromising ferocity of his kiss.
Julian drew back.
She looked at him, reproachfully.
“Do you not know how exciting you are?” he asked. “Have you never been kissed before, as a slave? No, of course, doubtless not.”
Few women, other than slaves, can guess what is the passion of a male.
Few women, other than slaves, have any conception of the heights, the aggressions, the sheer power of uninhibited male passion.
Once again he took her head firmly in his hands and pressed his lips against her.
“Oh,” she said, suddenly, softly.
Then suddenly she understood herself as what she was, a woman, the complement to this passion, its other, and her entire body seemed bathed in need and flame, and she squirmed in her bonds, his, and he drew back a little and she whimpered, protestingly, and thrust her head forward, pressing her lips timidly, fervently, to his, and then Julian took her by the shoulders and threw her from him, to her side, on the leaves, where she lay, her eyes wide.
“Perhaps, later,” he said, “there will be time for a slave.”
She lay there quietly then, helpless, spurned, discarded until wanted.
She tried to understand herself and her feelings, her desires, her needs. She feared she might be going mad. Why had no one told her of these things? Were they so dangerous, really? Were they such dreadful secrets? She knew herself now, and this frightened her, terribly, a woman, and slave.
She moaned a little, in her bonds.
“Be silent,” said Julian.
She sobbed, softly.
“Sleep,” he said to her.
She closed her eyes, and shuddered, and lost consciousness.
“You, too, should rest,” said Julian to Otto.
“I am weary,” said Otto, and lay down.
It was toward midnight when Julian gently shook Otto awake.
“What is it?” said Otto, quickly.
“Look,” said Julian, standing, and pointing upward, to the west. “A light in the sky.”
“What is it?” asked Otto, standing, looking to where Julian had pointed.
“Wait,” said Julian, eagerly.
“There,” he said, after a time.
Overhead there was a set of lights, and a mighty shape moved among the clouds, a shape designed to enter and negotiate atmospheres, as well as traverse the depths of space.
“What is it?” asked Otto.
“It is an imperial cruiser,” said Julian.
“There are other lights, too,” said Otto, looking upward.
“It is an imperial fleet!” said Julian.
CHAPTER 12
Standing at the edge of the woods Julian and Otto watched the lights, approaching across the meadow.
Some men were approaching, on foot.
“They saw you,” said Otto.
“Yes,” said Julian.
An hour before, as a patrol craft had scouted the meadow, at an altitude of some thousand feet or so, Julian, waiting, having emerged from cover, caught in the beam of one of its searchlights, had lifted his arms, signaling the craft. He must have seemed small, and white, there below, signaling. The craft had blinked its lights twice, and then moved on.
“They have seen us,” had said Julian, elatedly, returning to the wood.
Now some men were approaching, carrying flashlights. They had dismounted from a hoverer, left on the other side of the meadow.
“Excellent!” said Julian.
“Be careful, do not be precipitate,” said Otto.
“Have no fear, my friend,” said Julian.
He withdrew a few feet into the darkness of the woods.
“Oh!” cried Gerune, awakened by a blow, from the side of Julian’s foot.
He bent down and untied the vine from the tree, that by means of which Gerune’s ankles had been secured to it. This left the other end of the vine, that which bound her ankles together, as it was.
He then carried her, bound hand and foot, to the edge of the trees. There he put her down, on her knees.