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Lost in Translation

The paperback from DAW Books

Praise for Ed's previous novel, Lost in Translation:

"Edward Willett has arrived, and SF is the richer for it." -  Robert J. Sawyer, Hugo Award-winning author of Hominids

"A believable, absorbing, thought-provoking and highly enjoyable read." - Kathy Tyers, Author of the Firebird trilogy, Star Wars: The Truce at Bakura, and Star Wars: Balance Point

Andy Nebula: Interstellar Rock Star
Published by Roussan Publishers

Nominated for the 2001 Manitoba Young Readers Choice Award
Named to the Our Choice list by the Canadian Children's Book Centre

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Back to Chapter 19

CHAPTER TWENTY

I might have given up hope, then, except I knew that The Dealer was wrong. Meta could get back in. She still had the keychip. I wriggled around until I had a clear view of the door and waited for it to open. Any minute now, she'd come in and free me, and then--there had to be some way to get help, some kind of emergency communicator, or some way to talk to the computer, or--

But Meta didn't come back, and didn't come back, and didn't come back, while my legs and arms tingled, then grew numb. I wriggled some more, trying to force blood into my limbs, but the Hydra had tied me too tightly. If Meta didn't come soon, I might not even be able to walk.

She didn't come soon. They've found her, I thought bitterly. And The Dealer's threats hadn't even been veiled: he'd use her to ensure my cooperation, then he'd kill her. And the scary thing was, I knew it would work. Back in Fistfight City I'd never had any real friends. Friends were a nuisance. They died, or went away, or cheated or robbed you first chance they got. I'd taken care of myself and liked it that way. I wouldn't have crossed the street to save a rich kid like Meta, or anyone else. I remembered the girl who'd begged me for help that stormy night I met Rain. Other people weren't my concern. I had my own problems.

But Meta...Meta really was a friend, the first real friend I'd ever had. She'd already rescued me once. If The Dealer had her, I would do anything to free her--even sign a legal contract.

That's it! I thought. If he has me legally, it won't matter what she tells anyone. He'll let her go!

And I'd be like poor Paris Paradise, like the frozen figure of Paul Jerez, still streaked with sweat from a dance that he'd performed hours ago in real time, drugged, hypnotized, locked in a bubble of alternity.

I tried not to think about it.

The adrenaline of being captured drained away, the fear of what would happen next and the expectation of Meta's entrance followed, and in their absence my body took a notion to do the natural thing--sleep.

I woke in terror and thrashed around wildly, coming out of a horrible dream where I was surrounded by Hydras trying to stuff gigantic wafers of flash into my mouth--and rolled right into Meta, who squeaked and fell over. I blinked at her over my gag as she crawled back to me and went to work on my bonds with my knife. "Mmmmph. Mmmmmmmmph!" I demanded, and she pulled off my gag, taking what little facial hair I had with it. "Took you long enough," I grumbled.

"That big Hydra was outside for hours. He finally went away--had to go to the bathroom or something, I guess." She stopped clipping for a second. "How do Hydras go to the bathroom?"

"If you don't hurry you'll be able to ask The Dealer himself!"

She redoubled her efforts, but the sticky green web the Hydras had wrapped me in didn't yield easily. It took several minutes to free me and several more before I could stand on legs that burned and tingled. I swayed. "Can you walk?" Meta asked anxiously.

"If I can't, I'll crawl. Let's get out of here."

I almost did have to crawl. My legs didn't want to work, and twice I stumbled on the way to the door. I hesitated there for a minute. Should I wait for my legs to recover? If the big Hydra was back, we'd have to run for it--

But then I remembered just how fast that Hydra could move. If we had to run, we were already caught. Our only hope was that the Hydra had been called away by something more than nature--or else that Hydras took a long time to go to the bathroom.

I opened the door onto a deserted corridor. Glad we hadn't waited, I led the way back toward our monster-filled module. As we reached the corner a bloodcurdling screech exploded behind us. I took one look back, saw the big Hydra racing toward us, tentacles lashing, and grabbed Meta's hand and dragged her the rest the way, yelling at her to have the keychip ready. She slapped it in place, snatched it out again as the door opened, and we tumbled inside, then both turned and almost collided trying to get the door closed again before--

A red-orange tentacle the size of a freighter's fuel hose lashed beneath the closing door, grabbed my ankle and yanked. Pain exploded in the back of my head as my skull cracked against the metal floor. I slammed my other foot against the door to keep from being pulled out. The door, sensing the tentacle, stopped, beeped a warning, and started up again. "Meta!" I screamed, and she hit the CLOSE control again. Down came the door, back up it started. While Meta played cat and mouse with it, I struggled frantically against the Hydra's tug. How much strength did those tentacles have? I had a gruesome vision of my leg tearing off, and then screamed as my boot ripped painfully off my foot, the tentacle vanished, and the door closed and locked at last.

One foot bare, I staggered up, ignoring the goggling golden eyes of the creatures in the cages surrounding us. Better these monsters than the one in the hallway. "We've got to disable that door," I gasped out. "We've got to lock ourselves in!"

Meta stared at me, then at the shelves of monsters. "In here?"

"The Dealer has a keychip for this!" My leg had hurt before--now I could hardly move it. I pulled myself up to the door controls. "If we can reprogram the lock, or break it--"

A light on the panel flashed green. "Back!" I screamed, and retreated, staggering, pushing Meta to the end of the module, as the door opened.

 It framed the big Hydra--who stepped aside to reveal The Dealer. "You're more resourceful than I thought, Mr. Nebula," he said, and something about the way he said it, even in that neuter Hydran voice, made my skin crawl. Or maybe it was the way all four eyes glared at me, and the ends of his tentacles curled and uncurled. "But I simply can't waste any more time with you, or your annoying female friend. Too much more disturbance and the captain-computer may take some unwelcome notice." One of his eyes scanned the cages. "It is curious you should have chosen this particular cargo module in which to stow away, Mr. Nebula. As you may recall, I mentioned I am low on flash, which was why I postponed your conditioning. However, it occurs to me that you might be the perfect subject for an experiment, since, to an extent, you are expendable--Qualls will, after all, pay me what you would be worth as a performer, so should the experiment fail, all I would lose would be the extra revenue I could have made from having both your services and his payment. I'm willing to risk that." A tentacle reached out and caressed the glass front of one of the cages. The creature inside followed the movement intently. "These beauties are called (hiss(click)screech). I don't believe they have a name in your language, yet."

"If these are your pets, snakehead, you must be hard up for friends."

"Oh, they're hardly pets. They're quite poisonous. Spawnlings have nightmares about them. But I confess, I'm attracted to them." His tentacle toyed with the lock on the cage. "You see, it is the venom of these creatures that we render into flash."

I shuddered. The Dealer didn't seem to notice. He continued to stroke the cage, as if hypnotized by the creature within--or as if trying to hypnotize it. "Of course, in the living creature the active substance is far more concentrated. I would imagine that one bite from the fangs of my little friend here would be the equivalent of a hundred or more normal human doses of flash. I know what that does to us--but no one, to my knowledge, has ever conducted the experiment to see what it does to humans." All his eyes swiveled to me. "I think it's time to do so."

"You won't let that thing out while you're standing next to it. You're bluffing."

"Mr. Nebula, I don't have to let it out while I'm standing next to it. This lock--" his tentacle played over it-- "is now programmed to open by itself after a certain amount of time has elapsed. I won't tell you exactly how long; that would spoil the suspense for you. However, by the time I return, I'm sure I'll be able to observe the results of my little test."

He started to back out; I shouted, "Wait!"

The Dealer paused. "Yes?"

"Let Meta go. I'll sign a legal contract with you--I'll swear I joined up with you of my own free will--"

"Mr. Nebula, the legitimacy of your contract was of concern to Qualls; it is of no concern to me. My only concern is to make sure that you stop causing me trouble. Should you survive this little test, you will never again be able to free yourself from flash dependency, which will make you much easier to control. Should you die, dissection and analysis of your tissues will provide me with information no other flashdealer has. It could lead to an improved form of the drug, which I would control. As they say on your planet, 'data's economic, gladeye.' Either way, I lose nothing." He turned three of his eyes to the door panel. "Now, I really must re-program this--"

I don't know where the idea came from; I don't remember having it. All I know is that as The Dealer looked away I grabbed the cage closest to me, jerked it free, and flung it at him.

He ducked, shrieking rage, all four eyes snapping toward me--but when he ducked, the cage smashed into the lock panel, and three things happened: the door slid shut, the cage shattered into a million sparkling shards--and the monstrosity it contained dropped squarely into the middle of The Dealer's tentacles.

I clapped my hands over my ears as he squealed, a sound of pure horror escalating into the ultrasonic. He scrabbled frantically with his tentacles, all four eyes curving inward to stare down at the creature even as it bit deep into his flesh. The Dealer's stalk stiffened, every tentacle snapped straight out--and then they drooped, eyes staring sightlessly downward. The Dealer's legs folded and his stalk dropped with a thump--and the creature that had bitten him scrambled down past his breathing slits and onto the floor.

The thing's golden eyes scanned the room, seemingly ignoring us--but then Meta shifted her position, ever-so-slightly, and the eyes snapped around and locked on us. Slowly, lifting and placing each leg deliberately, the horror stalked the length of the cargo module, its brethren in the other cages watching it hungrily.

My heart raced; Meta draw a long shuddering breath. Why didn't the big Hydra come raging in to help The Dealer? I stared at the thing on the floor and thought I could make a pretty good guess.

It still wasn't sure we were prey. A couple of metres away it stopped. I tried not to breathe, tried to ignore all the aches and pains clamoring for my attention, tried to think of myself as a rock, a piece of metal, anything inanimate and, above all, motionless. The thing took another step toward us; halted, then moved a little closer yet. I thought about Meta behind me, and wondered which one of us would scream first.

And then, suddenly, the creature made up its mind and scuttled forward. Meta screamed and tried to climb the shelves, and the creature instantly altered course and dashed for her. "No!" I yelled. I lunged for it, fell headlong in front of it, grabbed it--and echoed Meta's scream as its dead-white mouth snapped open and its shining black fangs sank into my wrist.

#

On to Chapter 21...