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Once they were all in position Ch'aka kicked the nearest one and they began walking slowly forward looking carefully at the ground as they went. Jason had no idea of the significance of the action, but as long as he and Mikah weren't bothered it didn't matter: he had enough work cut out for him just to keep the wounded man on his feet.
Just this crowd of broken down types, a few bundles rolled in hide, and some of them are carrying skin water bottles. They have a simple me-stronger pecking order so I pecked a bit and we can drink. Food comes next." "Who are they? What are we doing?" Mikah asked, mumbling a little, obviously still suffering the after-effects of the blow.
"We've accomplished enough for now and I want to think a bit before I go ahead. So far luck has been on our side, but I don't think it should be this easy. I hope you brought your suitcase with you, Mikah, because you're moving in with me." "Never! A sink of sin, depravity "
Your ideas about a worker-class have troubled me Jason. I will be glad to kill them and you at the same time. Chain him with the slaves. Mikah, I award you Jason's quarter and woman, and as long as you do the work well I will not kill you. Do it a long time and you will live a long time. "Only the purest of motives, is that what you said, Mikah?" Jason shouted back as he was kicked from the room.
Meta had her back turned to Mikah and was sitting in the control chair a good five meters from him with her hands filled with navigational notes. She slowly raised her head and looked at Jason and a smile broke across her face. "You said once you didn't want him killed." "I still don't want him killed, but I also have no intention of going to Cassylia." He echoed her smile and turned away.
She held him with her grenade-throwing arm and kissed him fiercely. She kept her eyes open while she was doing this but only had to fire once. "Jason!" a voice called and Ijale appeared, half-supporting the still dazed Mikah. "Who is this?" Meta snapped, the chill back in her voice. "Why just someone I know," Jason answered, smiling insincerely.
Jason looked him coldly in the eye and with each word he spoke he stabbed him in the chest with his finger to drive home the point. "You are moving in with me because that is essential to our plans. And if you stop referring to my moral weaknesses I'll stop talking about yours. Now come on." Living with Mikah Samon was trying, but barely possible.
Jason realized that the pain in his wrists came from heavy iron shackles. A chain passed through them and was stapled to a thick wooden bar on which his head had been resting. "Why the chains and what is the local hospitality like?" Mikah resisted the invitation to impart any vital information and returned irresistibly to his own topic.
"I'm not a policeman," Mikah said sternly, his long fingers woven tightly together before him, his eyes wide and penetrating. "I'm a believer in Truth nothing more. The corrupt politicians who control Cassylia have placed you on a pedestal of honor. Honoring you, another and if possible a more corrupt man, and behind your image they have waxed fat.
It's loaded with caffeine a drug that is both a strong stimulant and a diuretic. That's why you won't find tea in spacesuit canteens. That's a case of a drug forbidden for a good reason. Can you justify your cigarette ban the same way?" Mikah started to talk, then thought for a moment. "Perhaps you are right. I'm tired, and it is not important."
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