Shadow World (15 page)

Mark stared at the downy, uncovered body the color of old ivory. Another neuter. He noted the quick glance the Elpind gave to hin's compatriots. It was a look that said, "I'll handle the decision making from now on." The Elpind's eyes were the color of old brass.

The leader turned toward the passageway and gestured. A petite Asian woman entered the lounge. Captain Loachin.

Beside him, Cara gasped, and Mark clenched his hands into fists. One of the woman's beautifully tilted eyes was swollen shut and a large, livid bruise marked her left cheekbone. Her uniform was disheveled and bloodstained.

Studying her, Mark decided with relief that the blood wasn't her own.

The Captain stepped forward without urging, her posture straight and unbending as she began speaking in perfect Mizari.

"Some of you know what I'm about to say, but those of you who have just have been awakened do not. Five days ago, just two days after docking at Station Four that orbits Arrooouhl, the Heeyoon mother world,
Asimov
picked up a distress call

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on the continuously monitored emergency frequency. As regulations decree, we dropped out of metaspace to respond, and found a small shuttle with CLS markings apparently drifting powerless. We grappled it alongside."

Mark noticed that Eerin was translating the Captain's speech for the brassy-eyed leader.

"When these people came aboard, we discovered that the distress message was a ruse. They ordered us to take them to Elseemar. When my navigator tried to resist, their leader, who calls hinself Orim"--her voice faltered for the first time-- "shot and killed him."

Mark and Cara gasped, both recognizing the name.
Shit, they're Wospind all
right!
Mark thought.
The People of Death! But if that's the case, what the hell
is Eerin doing with them?

Loachin had paused, obviously fighting to regain control. When she continued, her voice was once again even. "Several weeks ago a medical research lab was destroyed on Elseemar. Many scientists working there were killed. Two of our passengers ..."

Dammit, I knew it!
Mark thought.

"... Esteemed Sarozz, a Mizari, and an Apis named R'Fzarth, are scientists who have been sent out by the CLS to organize the survivors and see what can be salvaged of the research data. These two passengers, Orim has told me, are the reason this ship was chosen by these hijackers."

Loachin paused again, this time for breath that escaped involuntarily in a small sigh.
She's exhausted,
Mark realized.
These last five days must have
been hell for her.
His admiration for her cool control increased.

"These people cal themselves the Wospind and claim responsibility for the recent violence there. They have taken R'Fzarth and Sarozz into special custody, and announced that the CLS must meet their demands, or there will be further violence. We are approximately one hour away from Elseemar.

That is all I know at the moment."

She gazed out across the lounge, and a different, almost pleading note entered her calm voice. "Obviously, we are in grave danger. I ask the passengers to please remember that not only your lives, but the lives of others, depend on your actions in these next hours. I caution you to move slowly,

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speak quietly, and try to restrain your fear. Remember that our captors do not speak Mizari. Do not attempt to antagonize them or make demands. They have warned me that any such actions will bring speedy reprisal, and they have already killed once."

She swallowed. "I have been attempting to persuade the Wospind to allow my crew to bring you food and water as soon as possible. Again, the best thing you can do for yourself and others is to remain as quiet and cooperative as possible."

A low murmur of fear and consternation went through the small crowd.

Captain Loachin waved to quiet them. "Berytin, our next scheduled destination, was notified when we changed course to investigate the faked distress call, but Orim has allowed no communication since. Currently, no one knows our location. All we have to depend on is each other," she finished quietly. "I am counting on each one of you to remember that."

Then the woman stepped back and, obeying the female Wopind's gesture, moved over to stand by the han.

The next person on the agenda, the Wopind leader hinself, stepped forward and Eerin moved with hin. The gun trained on hin's back, held by another of the neuters, was suddenly visible.

"Mark!" Cara whispered.

"I see it." Mark was ashamed of the relief he felt. Eerin was a hostage too, in as much danger as the rest of them. He tried to catch his pair partner's eye so he could smile encouragingly, but Eerin, appearing suddenly agitated, even desperate, deliberately looked away.

"Call forward the spokesman," the Wopind leader ordered Eerin loudly in Elspindlor. The mellifluous language, with its many "L" and vowel sounds, seemed at odds with the hard glint of Orim's eyes and the harsh tone of hin's voice. Mark found he could understand the words--though the speed at which the sounds flowed over each other confirmed that Eerin had spoken slowly during their Elspindlor practice sessions.

"The one you have named is not appropriate," Eerin argued, using the same language. "The CLS will expect the Captain to deliver the Wopind demands."

"The Captain is only the Captain," the hijacker snapped, the fanatic light in hin's eyes altering to a frightening glare. "The

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passenger roster lists one person who is a trained negotiator. If heen speaks, the CLS will listen. Heen must speak for our people. Call the negotiator forward! Now!"

Mark's heart took a sudden plunge as he realized why Eerin was arguing.

Oh, God, no! Trained negotiator? Please, anything but this!
But he knew instinctively that there was no denying the madness in Orim's eyes. His worst nightmare was coming true.
Don't argue with hin, Eerin,
he thought numbly.
It's too dangerous. Do what hin tells you.

As if in response to his thoughts, the Elpind looked out over the passengers, hesitated a moment longer, then hin's golden eyes met Mark's. "Mark Kenner," called the Elpind in English. Hin's voice was heavy. "Mark Kenner, please come forward."

"Laris mian!"
Orim demanded in Elspindlor.
"Laris mian,
come here, Mark Kenner!"

"No!" Cara grabbed his arm frantically. "Mark!"

"It's all right, Cara," Mark said. She hadn't understood the Elspindlor, of course, couldn't know why he was being singled out. "They just want a spokesperson, that's all." His heart was still slamming, but reassuring her had steadied him a little, he found, as he slowly climbed to his feet, careful to keep his hands away from his body. The adrenaline now pouring into his system also helped, clearing a little more of the drugged haze from his mind.

As he picked his way through the crowd, Mark could feel the gun trained on his chest. He could barely keep from staring fixedly at the weapon's snout, and it was with difficulty that he transferred his attention back to the Wopind leader.

He forced himself to regard the Wopind without flinching, but also without seeming to challenge hin. Eye contact was a touchy thing in hostage situations. Some species regarded a direct stare as an open insult or challenge, others took the lack of it as a sign of duplicity. Mark had to walk a very thin line, knowing as little as he did about Elpind body language and cultural mores.

Dealing with fanatics is the most dangerous of all possible hostage
situations,
he remembered.
God, help me do and say the right thing ... don't
let anyone get hurt because of my mistake.

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Orim's eyes held his for long seconds, then finally hin said fervently: "Mark Kenner is a StarBridge interrelator." The terrorist had to use the Mizari rendering for the last word. "Hin has been told that the CLS places great value on beings who possess the ability to help one culture relate successfully to another. Hin has heard that StarBridge trains its students to communicate with skill and insight, in the hope that they will weave peace between the worlds."

Mark had to admit that he'd never heard it put more succinctly--or more poetically. "That is correct," he replied in Elspindlor.

Orim glanced sharply and accusingly at Eerin. "Mark Kenner speaks our tongue far more fluently than hin was told."

"I don't speak it well," Mark said, deliberately slurring and slowing his delivery--he certainly didn't want to get Eerin in trouble if hin had tried to keep him safe by understating his language skills to the Wopind leader. "But I am learning. I will do my best."

"Mark Kenner will listen to the words of Orim, then render them to the CLS

representatives on Elseemar," Orim directed.

Mark nodded. "I will do my best," he repeated.

"The off-worlders will listen to Mark Kenner when heen repeats the words of Orim. They will listen for two reasons: first, because they are strong words upon which many lives will hang, and, second, because they are relayed by a StarBridge interrelator."

I'm a dropout, not an interrelator,
Mark thought, but, knowing that it would gain him nothing positive to disagree with Orim, he stifled his instinctive protest. "Orim will first address these beings," the Wopind said, indicating the captives.

"I will translate," Mark said obediently.
Good,
he thought.
Orim's making a
speech will give hin a chance to ventilate.

Encouraging terrorists to relate their grievances at length was a good delaying tactic ... and would also help the hijackers to release some of their anger and pent-up frustration--hopefully without inciting them to further violence.

Mark knew from his course in handling crisis situations that the longer a hostage situation continued, the less likelihood that more hostages would be injured or killed. If Elpind

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terrorists reacted like humans or other intelligent species who had attempted to gain their ends by hijackings, a phenomenon called "the Stockholm Syndrome" would set in.

Simply stated, the longer hijackers were exposed to their captives, the greater the tendency for them to develop a rapport with the hostages, empathize with them. Hijackers actually grew fond of their captives, and no longer wanted to harm them. Bizarrely enough, the converse was also true; there were documented cases where former hostages had defended and testified on the behalf of their former captors.

Of course it was impossible to predict whether the Wopind hijackers would react in the same way ... especially when they could not communicate with their captives.

Orim drew hinself up to hin's full height. "Hin is Ri-El Orim," hin announced, then paused as Mark faithfully translated. Not knowing how much Mizari the Wopind might understand, Mark resolved to be meticulous in his

translations. "Hin is the leader here. We have been forced to take this way of gaining the CLS's attention, so the universe will at last comprehend the injustice that is even now transpiring on Elseemar."

The leader paused. Mark was relieved that the Wopind leader was speaking slowly, punctuating hin's speech with forceful gestures.

"On Elseemar we have always lived in peace as one people. This is no longer true. Our way of life is threatened, and we have become the Wospind in order to defend it. In time, all the people of Elseemar will thank us."

Mark glanced quickly at Eerin when Orim paused, noting the glare of pure hatred the Elpind gave the oblivious Wopind.
Not all of them, Orim,
he thought grimly.

"Ever since they arrived uninvited on our world, the CLS representatives have been trying to change us. And lately, they have not been content to change our society and our ways; their scientists have been working to change our lifecycle as well. We know, even if the Great Council has forgotten, that death must come whenever it wills and to whomever it chooses. The splendor of Elpind life is found in the courage to meet death, the willingness to seek adventure in every moment up to and including death. The CLS would have us shy away from that

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splendor, would have us conspire in a pitiful attempt to prolong life--as if Elspind feared to grapple with the ultimate truth of death."

Orim's eyes glowed with passion as hin spoke. Mark had to struggle to translate the entire speech, sentence by sentence. Several times he was forced to pose a word in Mizari to Eerin and receive a suggested translation before he could render Orim's meaning. But, as promised, he did his best.

"Once in orbit," Orim/Mark continued, "this ship will contact the CLS

sociological team on Elseemar, who, in turn, will communicate with our Great Council, the WirElspind. We will demand that the WirElspind

immediately revoke its support of CLS involvement on Elseemar and

specifically forbid further research on the Elpind lifecycle. Furthermore, all off-worlders must leave Elseemar in their shuttle immediately. Until these conditions have been accomplished, this ship, the
Asimov,
will circle Elseemar." Hearing the next words, Mark broke off, mute with horror, but when Orim glared and one of the heen gestured with the gun threateningly, he reluctantly finished, "and one passenger will be killed every six hours."

Cries of fear and protest broke out in the lounge, but quickly stilled to tense silence when the armed Wospind raised their weapons and trained them on the crowd purposefully.

Orim appeared to be enjoying the reaction hin's words caused, reveling in hin's sense of power, Mark realized sickly. I
don't think hin is really sane ... or
rather, hin is the Elpind version of a sociopath, he thought. A being without a
conscience.

His StarBridge training told him that he was dealing with the most dangerous type of hostage situation of all--fanaticism.
Oh, God, why me?
he wondered bitterly, feeling so tired and beaten that his knees buckled. But the jab of a gun muzzle in the small of his back straightened him up in a hurry.

"Once the CLS and the WirElspind have agreed that all research will stop and the CLS representatives and scientists have left Elseemar," Orim concluded, raising hin's hands for emphasis, "the executions will cease, and this ship will be released to continue its journey. We hope, of course, that there will be many, many passengers left to do exactly that."