Chapter 2

Raka

Bracken sat up and looked out his window towards the workers' compound. It was quiet. A few sand-devils swirled in the early dawn air. A dog barked in the distance. The other huts were quiet. None of the others had stirred yet.

Beyond the courtyard he could see a massive white building rising above the other mud shacks. Terresh Shad lived there. He owned this desert and everything on it. His mansion-like home gave off a stark cold glow in the twilight. How plainly it reflected its owner's nature, thought Bracken. This farm was a nightmare.

Depressed, Bracken lay back down and rolled over in bed. He counted the markings he had made on the wall. They had been here three weeks. Three weeks of slaving on this ranch just so they could hide from the Pirax. He wanted desperately to leave. The smell, the sweat and the barrenness was more than he could take. As soon as the pressure was off they would leave, he promised himself.

As he grasped for a few more moments of sleep, a faint sound came to his ears from the distant hills. For a moment he ignored it but as it grew louder, he got up, anxiously dressed and ran to the door. Staring off towards the southern horizon, he could see three black dots slip over the high ridge. The Pirax sky-flyers were moving rapidly. They would be overhead in five minutes.

Shouting a warning, he ran into the center of the workers' compound. He grabbed the leather thong at the bottom of the muster-bell and rang it frantically.

Rubbing their eyes and squinting in the bright morning light several people staggered from their adobe dwellings. Ley Os, the wiry man who had first introduced Bracken to the stone of power, flung back his front door and yelled out at him. "Why all the noise? The blasted gips will eat soon enough." Os' face was unshaved, his hair disheveled.

Bracken could hear the snorting of the herds in their pens. "It's not gipens, Ley. Look!" He pointed toward the approaching craft. "The way they're moving, they'll be here in three minutes."

Suddenly the broadcaster in the compound came to life. Its speakers hummed loudly. "This is Shad!" The brittle voice was tense. "The Pirax must have heard you were here, Os. We don't have much time. If you run you can make it to the cave where your trans is stored before they get a visual on us." The ancient broadcast instrument hummed and popped between words.

"Hurry, I'll cover for you."

As the drumming of the sky-flyers vertical lifters grew closer, Ley and the others sprinted toward the high rocky hill behind Shad's house. Scrambling over it, they disappeared into the darkened entrance of a cave.

The lumbering rotors of the 'Rax's flyers beat noisily through the air as they made their approach. After hovering momentarily above the workers' compound, the three craft settled to the earth amid a whirl of dust in front of Shad's mansion. Uniformed guards, their stout faces grim with determination, leaped to the ground forming a phalanx. Their steel gray helmets shone brightly in the sun. Their highly polished hand-held shields overlapped each other forming an impenetrable row of protection.

The Pirax captain, tall and muscular, stepped from his flyer and strode forcefully toward Os' dwelling. Behind him, his men stood ready, their thrusters covering his approach. He stopped before the gate. "Come out, Shad! The council has some questions for you." The 'Rax officer's words bounced off the high white facade of the building and then faded. The heavy wooden door in front opened and Shad, munching on his mouth drug, leisurely walked out, stopping a few feet from the Captain. The old man's gray eyes glared at the Pirax officer. He stuffed his leathery hands into the pockets of his work clothes and spoke. "What's the Council want with a desert rat like me?" The man's features had been worn rugged and dark by the desert elements. He was old in body but his spirit was still strong and young. "I'm just livin', mindin' my own business."

"Not you, Shad, but some rebels from Accad."

The farmer spat on the ground. "You think they're here?"

"Last we heard they had left Oak Forest and were headed this way. Leader of the group is a guy called Os."

"Can't recall anyone by that name comin' here," he lied.

The other workers stood quietly in front of their compound's gate warily eyeing the Pirax. Shad pointed toward them. "You're welcome to check through the group but I don't think you'll find them."

The captain turned to one of his aides. "Take two men and check their I-denta cards." The three broke away from the others and paced quickly to the compound. The officer turned back to the farmer.

"Shad, you're notorious for hiding rebels. You couldn't keep this ranch going without them." The captain gazed disdainfully at the milling herd of gipens. "No one would want to live here unless they were trying to hide."

"Ain't that way with me!" Shad pulled his weathered hat back on his tan forehead. "I find this place most enjoyable. The evenings are especially nice."

"I'm sure they are," sneered the captain, walking around toward the side of the massive building. Shad followed him. "The sea breeze of Accad is much more refreshing than the stench here."

"Each to his own, sir." Shad chewed again and spat the blue syrup in his mouth on the sandy soil. "There's nothing like a desert sunset."

"And being downwind from a gipen herd," the captain snorted. "How can you stand the smell of those beasts?" In several large pens the ugly creatures milled about pressing at the rails.

"It ain't so bad when you consider what their meat sells for on the markets in Accad." Shad took a deep breath, smiling as he exhaled.

"You don't have to remind me of that. I've only had two gip steaks this year." The officer stopped near the edge of Shad's yard and stared off toward the flat lands and rocky mounds in the distance. For a moment he quietly examined the surrounding landscape. His aide came running up, to confirm that the search

of the workers had revealed nothing. Dismissing him with a grunt, the captain gazed out into the desert again. "If they're hiding out there we might spend two weeks locating them."

"They ain't out there. Not even a bush bird can live out there without water!"

"Yes, I'm sure you're right," the captain grumbled as he whirled around and walked back toward his flyer. Passing the phalanx he muttered at them. "Let's go, men! This place stinks!"

The Pirax boarded their craft. In a cloud of dust and sandy grit the sky-flyers lifted off and headed back the way they had come.

Shad watched them with a smirk until the noise of the impatient gipen herd reminded him of their hunger. He walked to his house and switched on his broadcaster. "They're gone, Os. You can come out. Those rotten 'Rax almost ruined the herd with their interruption." His amplified voice boomed out across the plain toward the rocky hills where the fugitives were hiding. "And hurry, you slow-bellies! The gips are havin' a fit!"

Bracken, Os and the others reappeared from behind the rock and stared off toward the vanishing sky-flyers. "How'd they know we're here?" asked Bracken bitterly. He was growing tired of hiding, of the anxiety, tired of the pressure he felt. The Pirax it appeared, could even be a threat to them here in Raka.

Os motioned for them to start back toward the ranch. "I'm not quite sure how they found us. Perhaps an informer told them. It could have been someone at the Sea Sphere. That place is full of people who know I'm friends with Shad." Os adjusted the bill of his rumpled hat. Tufts of sandy hair jutted out from under its rim. His skin was ruddy, his eyes steel blue. His stare was penetrating when he was obsessed with an idea. Right now though he was squinting under the sun's glare as he walked beside Bracken toward the snorting gipens. "I think they're through looking for us for a while. Their trip up here had to be a last resort."

Bracken kicked at a stone in his path. As it rolled over, a pair of sand crawlers scurried away, their four sets of eyes darting back and forth on their small shell-like heads. "Does that mean we can leave this hole soon?"

"We'll have to see what the others think," said Os. "But don't worry. We'll be out of here as soon as possible. I'm as sick of this place as you are. I hope I never see another gip again."

Bracken looked off toward the waiting herds with disgust. "They kinda resemble the 'Rax, don't they?" he said with a sneer.

Bracken wrinkled his nose as the beasts' odor wafted toward him. "It already seems like forever," he whispered under his breath.

The gipen, Bracken thought, was one of the ugliest creatures alive. Its squat, gray body was covered with matted stripes of hair that ran in opposite directions. Its flat snout was cursed with a grotesque array of breathing receptors. Beneath these, a sagging tusk-filled mouth swagged from side to side. The plodding creature guided its way by means of two twisted antennae, protruding above its hair-filled ears. Normally, it fed upon the wild desert plants that grew abundantly in the Valley of Raka. But since its flesh had been discovered to be a delicacy, it had become profitable to raise the gipens on a more nutritious diet. Each grew fat and content before it was butchered and carted to the populous seaside city of Accad, to tingle the palate of the wealthy. Shad had grown rich from such shipments and dreamed of raising a herd which would fill the entire valley.

As Bracken and the others reached the feeding pens the milling herds grew excited. Their rank, sweating bodies glistened in the sunlight. The rest of the crew from the compound joined them. Together the group reluctantly lifted their shovels and began heaving the yellow grain. They would feed the beasts in four herds with only a slight rest break between shifts.

Great clouds of dust and sand began to rise from the desert floor as the first herd of giant animals advanced, pushing one another in an attempt to reach the feeding pens first. Bracken and his fellow workers labored furiously to keep up with the appetite of the ravenous beasts. The smell of the animals' bodies, mixing with the dust, was nauseating.

Bracken’s eyes burned and watered as bits of grit drifted into them. By now the sun had risen well into the morning sky. As its rays penetrated the cloud of dust, Bracken and his friends appeared as ghostly figures in an ethereal cloud of sparkling light. But to those coughing and laboring with the bellowing gipens, it was more like a hell. Sweat trickled down Bracken's brow and added to the burning in his eyes. It ran in streams from under his arms and down his chest. As the sweat mixed with the rancid air and dust, his body began to itch. But Bracken found little time to relieve it.

The gipens must be fed. If they weren't they became enraged and negative hormones would be released into their blood, souring their meat. Several herds had become inedible because of the failure of one of the feeding crews to appease them in time. Choking, Bracken continued to shovel.

A half hour later the first herd had been fed. The satiated creatures lumbered off as the rounders brought in the next group of animals. Bracken stopped and tied his bandanna around his face. Dust still drifted slowly through the heated air. Next to him, Ley leaned on his shovel, wiping his brow with his shirt.

Bracken let his own implement fall to the ground. Exhausted he sat down in the sand. The other workers had already collapsed in the gritty soil.

Tying his shirt around his waist again, Os walked over and sat down beside Bracken. "I wonder how things are going back in Accad?" he said with a sigh. "I imagine the Pirax hit every major Mingus supplier in the city." Os took a stick of drug weed from his pocket and began chewing it, spitting the excess syrup into the sand between sentences. "if the High Council has its way, there will be nothing left of the community in another week."

Bracken grimaced. He liked the friendly atmosphere that had been there. The unique people with their smiles, laughter and blissful ways. He could remember the tree-lined streets, the spacious parks filled with frolicking people dancing on the grass.

Os continued chewing. "Well, I guess we should have expected it. Ever since the place started it's been considered a cancer."

Ley took the dregs of the weed from his mouth and tossed them away. "They'll destroy anything they think is going to change the present order of things. But even if they do, we'll just start over somewhere else. What we've got between us will work anywhere. It's the feelings, the love, the brotherhood." Ley's steel eyes were beginning to grow intense. "We're part of something they'll never understand. They can't. They're too old, too narrow. The future's ours and they know it." His voice was rising now, his heart and mind stirred by his convictions. "They're trying to hold onto an old dream. It's our turn to dream now and they're simply not part of it. When we take over they'll be just like us, on the outside."

Bracken sat quietly letting Os talk on. He didn't really listen anymore to Ley. Os was too much like those he hated, too much like the others in the group at Raka, too much like himself, growing more disagreeable everyday.

As the next herd approached, Os finished his rhetoric. "We'll all be back together soon. Something will work out. You'll see, Bracken."

Bracken stood up picking his shovel off the ground. "Sure Ley ... sure it will," he said tersely.

The new group of animals was more ravenous than the first. They rammed up against the feeding troughs struggling with one another. Groaning, the crew went back to work.

Shouts came from near the watering trough as workers directed the previous herd towards it. The nose of the water tower was lowered to release its Precious contents into the trough. The trampling droves collected along the long rows of water receptacles. The snorting beasts drank deeply to wash down their meal. Bracken tried to forget his own thirst. He remembered Shad's rule: No water for the workers until the gipens are fed.

Out of the comer of his eye, Bracken could see Shad standing on the sundeck of the Great House, his sinewy frame casting a narrow shadow to the ground below. He was watching the operation through his eyepiece. The air crackled with static from his communicator as he conversed with Rollion, the ranch foreman. Rollion, a tanned, massive man, quickened the pace, shouting orders over the broadcaster he held in his right hand.

The heat increased as the sun rose higher in the sky. A sense of tenseness seemed to Pervade the air. The other workers cursed at the beasts and then at each other. Bracken wearily stared down the line of beasts. Perhaps only four hundred remained to be fed. They would be through in an hour. Bracken's muscles ached under the load of his shovel. He continued to choke, spitting from time to time to bring up the particles that lodged in his lungs. His head pounded. A giant burning hammer seemed to be pounding down on his back, pounding down on all of them, pounding out the last bit of life. The itching had grown almost unbearable. His burning eyes had begun to swell. Tears flowed from them as they smarted under the glare of the sun and from the pain of the grit caught in them. Streaks lined his cheeks where streams of tears had crossed the dust caked on his face. He comforted himself with the thought that he would soon be done.

Suddenly, someone yelled behind him. It was the shrill and familiar voice of Ley. Another fight had started. In these conditions patience was as rare as water and much thinner. Without warning, Bracken was struck in the back with the blade of a shovel. The blow knocked him beneath the feet of the gipens. Naavin Shor, one of Ley's friends, stood over him poised to strike again. He struggled to rise and was hit in the face by feed. Bracken's hands dug deep into the grit beneath him. He came up throwing it at Naavin's eyes. Around them, others were brawling too.

"Stop! You fools!" yelled Rollion. He firmly grabbed Shor and Os and shouted again. "Return to your cells! The other crew will finish this shift!" His giant size and force of personality had a sobering effect on all of them. "Bracken, stay and keep order!"

The battle was over as quickly as it had begun. The contestants warily withdrew from each other and walked toward the workers' compound, muttering. Remaining behind, Bracken leaned against his shovel and placed his hand upon the deep rent in his coveralls. He was bleeding where the blade of Naavin's shovel had struck him. He stayed the flow of blood with his handkerchief. As he waited for the next crew, he stared into the feeding trough before him. The noise of the restless waiting gipens was deafening. Ignoring their grunts, he collected his thoughts. Why am I here? he asked himself. Why do any of us stay? What strange force still holds us together even though we've begun to despise one another? His mind was exhausted but he could remember a better day, an orchard, trees, his father's voice. But it was so far away. Just a memory. And yet, there remained a thread of hope. Desperately he clung to it.