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Updated: June 8, 2025
That evening they built a fire on the beach and Jason sat with his back to the safety of the sea. He took his helmet off, the thing was giving him a headache, and called Ijale over to him. "I hear Ch'aka. I obey." She ran hurriedly over to him and flopped onto the sand. "I want to talk to you," Jason said. "And my name is Jason, not Ch'aka."
Thick straps held the shell helmet over the dead man's head and when he unknotted them and pulled it away he saw that Ch'aka was well past middle age. There was some gray in his beard, but his scraggly hair was completely gray, his face and balding head pallid white from being concealed under the helmet.
Doesn't eat much." "You're a liar!" "Hate you, Fasimba!" "Hate you, Ch'aka! Where's the other one?" "Got a good one. Stranger from the ocean. He can tell you funny stories, work hard." Jason turned in time to avoid the full force of the kick, but it was still strong enough to knock him sprawling.
Ch'aka was taken by surprise and had his club only half-raised when Jason was upon him, and he swung wildly. Jason ducked under the blow and used Ch'aka's momentum to help throw him as he grabbed the club arm and pulled. Face down the armored man crashed against the stones and Jason was straddling his back even as he fell, clutching for his chin.
These illiterate thugs never manufactured that crossbow or firelighter. We must find out where they came from and see about getting there ourselves. I had a quick look at the quarrel when Ch'aka pulled it out, and I'll swear that it was turned from steel." "This has significance?" Mikah asked, puzzled. "It means an industrial society, and possible interstellar contact."
Before he could get up Ch'aka had clutched Mikah Samon by the arm and dragged him across the invisible line to the other group of slaves. Fasimba stalked over to examine him, prodding him with a spiked toe. "Don't look good. Big hole on the head." "He works hard," Ch'aka said. "Hole almost healed. He very strong." "You give me new one if he dies?" Fasimba asked doubtfully. "I'll give you.
Fasimba was garbed in the same type of hideous and fear-inspiring outfit as Ch'aka, differing only in unimportant details. Instead of a conch, his head was encased in the skull of one of the amphibious rosmaroj, brightened up with some extra tusks and horns. The differences between the two men were all minor, and mostly a matter of decoration or variation of weapon design.
All of which added up to the fact that he had to kill Ch'aka if he wanted to get ahead. He still had no desire to do it, but he had to. That night he watched Ch'aka when he slipped away from the others and Jason made a careful note of the direction that he took. Of course the slave master would circle about before he concealed himself, but with a little luck Jason would find him. And kill him.
"You force this poor creature to bend to your will, humiliate her, strip her clothes from her and gaze upon her though you are not united in lawful wedlock." He shielded his eyes from sight with a raised arm. "You are evil, Jason, a demon of evil and must be brought to justice " "Out!" Jason roared, and spun Mikah about and started him through the door with one of his practiced Ch'aka kicks.
Because he had seen slaves and slave-holders, Jason had held the mistaken notion that they were different classes of society, when in reality there was only one class, what might be called the dog-eat-dog class. He should have been aware of this when he had seen how careful Ch'aka was to never allow anyone within striking distance of him, and how he vanished each night to some hidden spot.
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