hiring a legion for six months and reducing three planets in our system to cinder.
“Which planet?” says Debro. “The original…”
“Farlight?”
She sighs. “Earth,” she says, fastening her top.
I don’t mean to laugh. “Earth’s a myth,” I tell her. “Fairy tales.” I know nothing, and even I know that.
She shakes her head. “It was real. A lot more real than most of the crap that passes for history these days…”
“Debro.” The word is a warning.
“You know it’s true.”
“I’m Anton,” says her friend. He’s been dressing with his back to her. Unless she was the one who had her back to him.
We shake.
“My ex-husband,” she says, almost fondly.
In his rags he looks like a stick insect wrapped in cheap plastic. Since he doesn’t seem the type to dress like that, someone has obviously stolen his real clothes farther up the line.
“You were condemned as well?”
The glance he gives Debro is strange. It’s as if he is asking her permission for something. “We have a daughter,” he says. “Under the age of majority. You know the law.”
Obviously enough, I don’t.
“She’s legally still bound to her mother. Since her mother is here Aptitude should also be here…” He hesitates. “My family made overtures to OctoV. The emperor agreed to let me take her place. For old times’ sake.”
Anton talks of OctoV as if he’s just another man.
“You’ve met him?”
“My father and his grandfather were friends.”
It explains why Debro is still alive. Although, I realize, it could equally well explain why she was dead had that been the case. “Who is looking after your girl?”
Again that glance.
“My cousin,” says Debro finally. “Thomassi was the only one who offered.”
A story is obviously hidden in the looks they give each other and under the silence Debro lets hang at the end of her words.
“You’ve quarreled with the others?”
“Hardly,” Anton says. “My mother would have offered. As would my brother. They were too afraid to upset the senator…”
Who has to be the cousin, I guess. Anything else Anton might say is lost as the last of the new prisoners climbs up from her squat, head held high despite the tears in her eyes. She’s the youngest of the women, and the guards have saved her until last. As she passes the corporal, she mutters something.
It’s a bad mistake.
A baton to her gut, an upsweep between her legs, and she’s on the floor again, rolling from side to side in her own piss.
“You,” the corporal says. “Pick up her clothes.”
Anton does as he’s ordered.
“And you,” I’m told. “Take her with you.”
I come to attention. “Yes, sir.”
His response is a sour smile. “Strip,” he orders.
It seems best to do it without question.
“Turn around.”
Waiting for the blow, I wait some more, but the man is reexamining the scars on my back.
“A sjambok?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m surprised you lived.”
“Yes, sir. Me, too.”
“Dress,” he tells me. Walking over to the girl, he hooks his boot under her rib cage and rolls her over, scowling at the mess. “And take your garbage with you.”
CHAPTER 11
T HE ICE is five miles thick, it is ten…it is so thick, no one will ever be able to drill that deep. In fact, ice is all there is, and anyone who imagines real rock somewhere beneath all this frozen water understands nothing about space. Because Paradise is a vast comet trapped by the gravity well of an inconveniently placed star.
There are as many different opinions as there are prisoners in our group. The guards undoubtedly have their own theories, but they’re hardly about to share them with us.
Apart from the landing field, which undomes to allow entry to visiting craft, the whole of the complex is underground. This makes it easier to conserve what little warmth there is. Exiles are held on the lowest level, guards on the level above, and the governor above that. The theory is the heat generated
“Which planet?” says Debro. “The original…”
“Farlight?”
She sighs. “Earth,” she says, fastening her top.
I don’t mean to laugh. “Earth’s a myth,” I tell her. “Fairy tales.” I know nothing, and even I know that.
She shakes her head. “It was real. A lot more real than most of the crap that passes for history these days…”
“Debro.” The word is a warning.
“You know it’s true.”
“I’m Anton,” says her friend. He’s been dressing with his back to her. Unless she was the one who had her back to him.
We shake.
“My ex-husband,” she says, almost fondly.
In his rags he looks like a stick insect wrapped in cheap plastic. Since he doesn’t seem the type to dress like that, someone has obviously stolen his real clothes farther up the line.
“You were condemned as well?”
The glance he gives Debro is strange. It’s as if he is asking her permission for something. “We have a daughter,” he says. “Under the age of majority. You know the law.”
Obviously enough, I don’t.
“She’s legally still bound to her mother. Since her mother is here Aptitude should also be here…” He hesitates. “My family made overtures to OctoV. The emperor agreed to let me take her place. For old times’ sake.”
Anton talks of OctoV as if he’s just another man.
“You’ve met him?”
“My father and his grandfather were friends.”
It explains why Debro is still alive. Although, I realize, it could equally well explain why she was dead had that been the case. “Who is looking after your girl?”
Again that glance.
“My cousin,” says Debro finally. “Thomassi was the only one who offered.”
A story is obviously hidden in the looks they give each other and under the silence Debro lets hang at the end of her words.
“You’ve quarreled with the others?”
“Hardly,” Anton says. “My mother would have offered. As would my brother. They were too afraid to upset the senator…”
Who has to be the cousin, I guess. Anything else Anton might say is lost as the last of the new prisoners climbs up from her squat, head held high despite the tears in her eyes. She’s the youngest of the women, and the guards have saved her until last. As she passes the corporal, she mutters something.
It’s a bad mistake.
A baton to her gut, an upsweep between her legs, and she’s on the floor again, rolling from side to side in her own piss.
“You,” the corporal says. “Pick up her clothes.”
Anton does as he’s ordered.
“And you,” I’m told. “Take her with you.”
I come to attention. “Yes, sir.”
His response is a sour smile. “Strip,” he orders.
It seems best to do it without question.
“Turn around.”
Waiting for the blow, I wait some more, but the man is reexamining the scars on my back.
“A sjambok?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m surprised you lived.”
“Yes, sir. Me, too.”
“Dress,” he tells me. Walking over to the girl, he hooks his boot under her rib cage and rolls her over, scowling at the mess. “And take your garbage with you.”
CHAPTER 11
T HE ICE is five miles thick, it is ten…it is so thick, no one will ever be able to drill that deep. In fact, ice is all there is, and anyone who imagines real rock somewhere beneath all this frozen water understands nothing about space. Because Paradise is a vast comet trapped by the gravity well of an inconveniently placed star.
There are as many different opinions as there are prisoners in our group. The guards undoubtedly have their own theories, but they’re hardly about to share them with us.
Apart from the landing field, which undomes to allow entry to visiting craft, the whole of the complex is underground. This makes it easier to conserve what little warmth there is. Exiles are held on the lowest level, guards on the level above, and the governor above that. The theory is the heat generated
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