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Book: A Thousand Words For Stranger (10th Anniversary Edition) by Julie E. Czerneda
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Authors: Julie E. Czerneda
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order my thoughts, telling me I had to leave? And where did they want me to go?
Once in a while I stopped a question, examined it more carefully, then let it drift loose in the current again. I had no answers. Answers were unlikely to help me now anyway. But I might feel better if I understood.
A series of distant thuds broke my concentration; thunder, I thought, then wondered if thunder could be heard so far down. Another series, this time closer, vibrating the walls and floor of my cell. I sat up too rapidly and had to fight dizziness.
I took three step-hops to the door, only to bump my nose abruptly and painfully on the edge of the now open panel. The lights were off in the corridor; the darkness pressed like something physical against my skin. I hesitated, weighing the risks. The lack of light, the lock bar—these I could overcome. But what were those new sounds?
I broke into a cold sweat, suddenly no longer here but back in the night and rain, buffeted by an explosion. Bodies flying past into the shadows, propelled by flame, the odor of cooked flesh. Running, fighting to think . . .
I forced myself to the here and now, but the image lingered, clarifying what I could hear. Someone was fighting a battle—probably on an upper level, or I’d have seen its light. I could hear low cries of hope and confusion from my fellow prisoners. The force fields must be down in the hallway. I drew back against the wall, unpleasantly sure of our fate should it look like the recruiters were losing. I carefully hopped back inside my cell, crouching in the space of floor behind the open door.
First and foremost, I had to be free of the lock bar. I tore at its fastening, succeeding only in breaking the remainder of my fingernails in the effort. Then, with an abruptness that boded ill for the defenders of this hole, the sounds stopped. I breathed as lightly as I could in the waiting silence.
Lights appeared in the hall, not the ones I remembered but dancing spears of yellow . . . voices, footsteps . . . it was hard to remember where I was, to keep my mind focused.
The door swung wide, bumping my knees and startling me to alertness. Eye-stabbing light flooded the room. “Where is she?” demanded a voice I did remember—too well.
A Tuli skidded to the floor at my feet, beams from the globe cradled in its hands racing crazily over the walls and ceiling. It had been shoved by another entering behind with the haste of the pursued.
Roraqk. His snout twisted over his shoulder—angling downward so those yellow eyes, reflecting cold white disks of light, could pin me in place. The frills along his head were flattened and gray. I cringed, curling myself into a ball, and showed my teeth in as effective a snarl as a primate could manage.
The reptile holstered his pistol, hooking one hand in his belt. His other hand, streaked with some shiny green liquid, he held pressed over a wound high on his concave chest. “s-Sswitch the bar to her wrisssts-ss,” he ordered the cowering Tuli. “Put this-ss on her.” “This-ss” was a heavy black cloak, its edges suspiciously charred. I didn’t like to think of how it came to be in the pirate’s possession.
The Tuli panted, its trio of eyes wide and focused elsewhere as it obeyed Roraqk’s command. Its stained fur smelled rank, sour with fear. Port Authority, I decided, stretching my legs as soon as they were freed. A rush of optimism gave me new strength which I kept hidden, letting the creature pull me to my feet.
Roraqk took no chances. He reached for the bar across my wrists, winding a thin glossy thread from his belt around the bar to link us together. The Tuli moaned to itself—the first vocalization I’d heard from its kind. Its eyes were closed. Both of us knew what to expect next, yet I flinched when the pirate fired his pistol and the Tuli shriveled into a smoking darkness. The globe fell and smashed, extinguishing all light in the room.
I couldn’t move—too afraid of what I
Once in a while I stopped a question, examined it more carefully, then let it drift loose in the current again. I had no answers. Answers were unlikely to help me now anyway. But I might feel better if I understood.
A series of distant thuds broke my concentration; thunder, I thought, then wondered if thunder could be heard so far down. Another series, this time closer, vibrating the walls and floor of my cell. I sat up too rapidly and had to fight dizziness.
I took three step-hops to the door, only to bump my nose abruptly and painfully on the edge of the now open panel. The lights were off in the corridor; the darkness pressed like something physical against my skin. I hesitated, weighing the risks. The lack of light, the lock bar—these I could overcome. But what were those new sounds?
I broke into a cold sweat, suddenly no longer here but back in the night and rain, buffeted by an explosion. Bodies flying past into the shadows, propelled by flame, the odor of cooked flesh. Running, fighting to think . . .
I forced myself to the here and now, but the image lingered, clarifying what I could hear. Someone was fighting a battle—probably on an upper level, or I’d have seen its light. I could hear low cries of hope and confusion from my fellow prisoners. The force fields must be down in the hallway. I drew back against the wall, unpleasantly sure of our fate should it look like the recruiters were losing. I carefully hopped back inside my cell, crouching in the space of floor behind the open door.
First and foremost, I had to be free of the lock bar. I tore at its fastening, succeeding only in breaking the remainder of my fingernails in the effort. Then, with an abruptness that boded ill for the defenders of this hole, the sounds stopped. I breathed as lightly as I could in the waiting silence.
Lights appeared in the hall, not the ones I remembered but dancing spears of yellow . . . voices, footsteps . . . it was hard to remember where I was, to keep my mind focused.
The door swung wide, bumping my knees and startling me to alertness. Eye-stabbing light flooded the room. “Where is she?” demanded a voice I did remember—too well.
A Tuli skidded to the floor at my feet, beams from the globe cradled in its hands racing crazily over the walls and ceiling. It had been shoved by another entering behind with the haste of the pursued.
Roraqk. His snout twisted over his shoulder—angling downward so those yellow eyes, reflecting cold white disks of light, could pin me in place. The frills along his head were flattened and gray. I cringed, curling myself into a ball, and showed my teeth in as effective a snarl as a primate could manage.
The reptile holstered his pistol, hooking one hand in his belt. His other hand, streaked with some shiny green liquid, he held pressed over a wound high on his concave chest. “s-Sswitch the bar to her wrisssts-ss,” he ordered the cowering Tuli. “Put this-ss on her.” “This-ss” was a heavy black cloak, its edges suspiciously charred. I didn’t like to think of how it came to be in the pirate’s possession.
The Tuli panted, its trio of eyes wide and focused elsewhere as it obeyed Roraqk’s command. Its stained fur smelled rank, sour with fear. Port Authority, I decided, stretching my legs as soon as they were freed. A rush of optimism gave me new strength which I kept hidden, letting the creature pull me to my feet.
Roraqk took no chances. He reached for the bar across my wrists, winding a thin glossy thread from his belt around the bar to link us together. The Tuli moaned to itself—the first vocalization I’d heard from its kind. Its eyes were closed. Both of us knew what to expect next, yet I flinched when the pirate fired his pistol and the Tuli shriveled into a smoking darkness. The globe fell and smashed, extinguishing all light in the room.
I couldn’t move—too afraid of what I
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