Chapter Five - THE CONVERSATION AT THE TENT

I had already guessed that the slave master would find it difficult to keep up with a marching cohort and my musings have not gone unproven. He becomes most perplexed when we are left far behind, the group of soldiers nothing but dust clouds over the next hill, and forces his repulsor wagons to move faster. The heavy weight they are pulling is not lightly transported but this does not stop the man from shouting for speed. It may be considered strange by other denizens of the galaxy, why many chose to trundle over the vast distances of the worlds instead of using the transports available all over the explored worlds, or walk to their destination in hours when they could fly in minutes, but the people of the Ki-Ki Sector are afraid of becoming decadent – they make sure they have to journey, for it is the journey that makes a being.

Evenings are shorter for us for we spend time catching up with the cohort whilst they make camp. Now they are in the Ki-Ki Sector’s heart there should be no need to build an evening’s defence but this does not stop the Commanders from making them. To become decadent as a soldier is to become worthless, and code and drill are everything.

The soldiers are far into their moat digging as we arrive. This appears to be a regular stop for armies for there is already a shallow ditch in the ground from a previous camp. The legionaries have little to do but they make sure they do not disappoint their superiors by using the already prepared moat for ease of building. To watch them makes me proud.

I have not spoken to Anto for the many days we have been travelling. I am glad to be out of the cage, now, as I am instructed in how to be the slave master’s personal servant. I am taught certain aspects of the responsibility, how to act with him when he is in company, what to say and how to say it. The instruction bores me – I have been hired to fight for him, not aid him as a body servant, and I take in very little of what I am told.

The leg binders have been dispensed with, although the simpleton is still forced to wear them. I do not argue the issue, as I know I have already angered my master with my demands for my friend to be allowed to stay with me. The simpleton watches, a longing expression on his features, as I am taught my new skills.

The day I am presented with a weapon to wear in the presence of the slave master is the day I realise that maybe I have made the right choice to be his bodyguard. The blade they offer me is my own vibrosword. But I refuse it.

To wear the vibrosword, a soldier’s weapon, to serve the vanity of one man is abhorrent to me. The blade had been cast and crafted to serve mother Ki-Ki and I would not dare brandish it to defend my master, utilising it as a cook would utilise a knife to cut meat. Such things are not right. The vibrosword, and my armour, are packed away once more.

I settle on a simple sword, which I see is similar to the one I used to kill the fighters-in-training. It requires attention and a little oil but is a fine weapon. It is long, slight curves at its end tapering to a fine point, and sharpened down the inside of the curve, and I also take a small low-charge blaster.

I approach the slave master, my clothes changed now from the simple grey of a slave’s cloth to white padded segmented body armour like a child’s copy of a legionary’s armour and laced shoes that covered my feet totally. When the slave master saw me in this dress he smiled broadly, the firelight of our camp causing him to appear almost demonic.

   “Fine. Fine!” he exclaims, motioning for me to approach. “Now you look as though you are almost part of my company! An energy shield would have been pleasant, but...” he shrugs.

I am almost warmed by his kind words until he mentions the lack of shield. I had already thought of ways to adapt a small shield to fit over my stump for I still have some of my forearm left to strap it to, but now the idea slips as I fear the comments he would perhaps make.

He looks me up and down, taking in my clean-shaven face and my thick mop of dark hair. He nods again. “Your first duty will be to accompany me on my walk into the cohort camp. I am to dine with the Commanders tonight.”

I return the nod with no words but my stomach is heavy. I do not wish to enter the camp and be surrounded by my past life, as enticing as the offer may be, and I do not wish to stand to one side and be within sight of Anto.

The Twi’lek slave master moves away towards the camp, his young black-skinned slave boy with him, and I have no choice but to follow. We walk through the entrance to the camp, unchallenged by the guards who look at me with quizzical stares, and towards the largest tent. Small campfires dot the inner ring of the stockade and legionarys walk freely, relaxed, talking or seeing to their kit. I do not look at any of them and approach the tent.

I forget myself. As my master asks for entrance and it is granted I make to follow but the guard on duty puts his hand on my shoulder, forcing me back roughly. “No slaves,” he growls and is taken aback by my dark-eyed stare. I nod with understanding and take a place to the other side of the entrance. The young slave boy sits crossed-legged and apparently dejected further away.

Inside a fire causes strange puppet-shadows on the white plastic of the enviro-tent, blurred figures move about. I can hear voices, those of the slave master and the Commanders but I cannot make out Anto’s voice. There is raucous laughter and I hear a reference to the slave master’s lack of speed. Jokes are made to the effect that the cohort could have stopped, built a fort and have a meal waiting for him by the time he arrived. My master laughs but it is a forced laughter, that of a man trying to impress new people.

The conversation reduces to mere murmurs, punctuated by the odd laugh or cough. I cannot help myself and I shift my position, straining to hear their words.

The night continues. Half-moons are slowly making its way across the sky and casting a silvery light to the ground. The points of light surrounding it are clear this warm night and I watch them sparkle, seemingly to entertain me as I await my master.

The voices, maybe suffused with wine, are growing louder again.

   “I tell you what I think,” says a man whose voice I do not recognise. “I think that the new Prime Lord has bought changes to Ki-Ki, a change that we need.”

   “Need? When since has Ki-Ki needed anything?” another voice says, mingled with a low laugh. “She stands proud and defiant in front of our enemies. Atheus is inheriting the throne but there is little he is required to change. There will be others to help and guide him. He will learn what he needs to know and Ki-Ki will continue to grow,”

   “Pah!” the first voice returns. “What we need is a strong Prime Lord to manage the worlds we now rule. As an Empire we continue to grow, yes, but with that we need leadership to adapt to that progress.”

Another voice joins the conversation. “The boy has not had time to grieve for his father. He was a great man. He will have a mighty role to fill.”

   “Atheus is a boy who did not have the decency to be present when we fought the greatest battle of our campaign in the Setnin Sector.” That was Anto speaking. His voice was deep and grave. “I cannot respect a man who will not face the reality of our people and is then supposed to rule it.”

The conversation dies immediately. There is a noise of metal, perhaps one of them dropped a dish or a goblet, but no-one answers his words.

   “But he is Prime Lord Atheus,” says my master weakly. He is a peddler in flesh and I do not think his words will be respected. Nevertheless, Anto speaks again.

   “And I will serve him. He has my oath and my life, but he will not have my respect until I have reason to respect him.”

   “All the Commanders, the Officer Overlords, everyone have accepted him as Prime Lord, Anto,” says another of the Commanders. “I cannot understand why you have this need to be of a different mind.”

   “Because I have seen greatness in war and I have seen greatness in politics. The two mesh together for that is the Ki-Ki Sector. But Atheus has only ever seen politics. He has only ever seen the benefits of power, not the results. That is what I fear in his rule.”

Again there is silence until one of the Commanders says, “We are but soldiers, Anto, and all we know is the pace of war. If our fathers were Advisors to the Throne, also, then I am sure we would share some of your feelings.”

I did not realise that Anto’s father was an Advisor. He had never divulged that to me in the time we spent together.

   “Still, let us talk of this no more. Before our conversation turns to treason!” There are laughs from the others and the topic turns to something more mundane.

My mind is whirling with confusion. If Anto’s father was an Advisor then why did he not enter the ranks of the legion as an officer? The very least he may have been was a Commander, but when I met him he was but a legionary.

He has doubts over our new Prime Lord, Atheus, and I could not understand why. We had served under the previous Prme Lord for so long, was he simply afraid of change? It had been years since he died! Such a thing had never occurred to me – why think of the fate of an Empire when you did not exist in it? – but now my interest was aflame. Even as a simple legionary you feel part of Ki-Ki and, for a brief moment, I experience that forgotten feeling.

My thoughts are interrupted by the tent flap suddenly being thrown back and I see Anto emerge, taking in a breath of the night air. He is flushed, either from the closeness of the tent or the wine he has consumed, and he pats his stomach to ease the digestion.

Then he turns to me. He sees my expressionless face and my clothes, my sword and my mock-breastplate, and he takes another deep breath.

He turns to the guard. “Get some food inside you, man, you can’t stand there all night.”

   “I have been instructed not to leave my post, sir,” the guard says smartly. Anto slaps him on the shoulder.

   “Go and eat. I will relieve you whilst you are gone.” Then he leans forward as if whispering in conspiracy. “I won’t tell them. Don’t be gone long.”

The guard smiles and lifts his energy shield. “Thank you, sir,” he says and quicksteps away to a campfire where the smell of broth is drifting into the air.

Anto is smiling, but this drops as the guard leaves. His downcast face turns to me.

   “It is good to see you again,” he says in a low voice.

   “And you, also,” I reply. It takes me a moment but my words are followed by the required, “My Lord.”

Anto waves the words away. “Dispense with that. This is not how I imagined our next meeting.”

   “Nor I,” I answer. I wish to say more, much more, but I cannot find the words.

   “What did you do?” he asks simply.

   “I secured a future for my sister,” I say truthfully.

   “How? Did you steal? Murder? How did you come to be here, like this?”

His words are tinged with venom but I cannot blame him for his anger. “I sold myself into slavery to fund her new life,” I explain. Anto’ face becomes covered by confusion but I continue with my words. “I had been away too long, Anto. She had suffered much and I would have been a burden to her. Now she can make her own destiny without my interference.”

   “Do you know why I made you promise me that you would have a happy future, my friend?” he asks. I shake my head.

   “Because I saw the pain in your eyes as you healed and I knew you would suffer greatly. I did not want to see your life dwindle after what we had endured and I knew you would find the road hard. I cannot believe you sacrificed your own fate to aid your sister when you had told me that all you wished to do was return to her.”

   I shake my head. “I did it for more reasons than that...”

   “Your flight from the Setnin attack?” he says quickly. It is my turn to be shocked, now, for I was sure he did not know of that. He must have learned of it from another legionary whilst I was recovering, or since.

   “Your cohort paid for that mistake,” he said. “You were all punished for that flight. Not just you.”

   “Then why do I breathe when others, who may not have fled, do not? Men died because of me. I may just have well as tightened the noose myself.”

Anto shrugs. “Maybe so. But the law exists for that very reason, to take the decision for the punishment of your mistakes from you, and you have more than made up for that. If you had died, then who would have saved my life at the trainer’s home?”

   “It is true. If I had not sold myself to the slaver, who would have?”

It was strange to see the smile on Anto’ face after my comment. “Do not confuse the issue.”

   “I am not. It a simple matter of balance. I fled in the face of the enemy and was not properly punished. For that, I lose my arm and my skill as a sculptor. I failed to return to my sister when she needed me the most and for that, I am a slave. I am a great believer in the balance of life now, Anto, even though I agonise over fate and become angry at the route my life sometimes takes me. I learned of the need for balance during the battle. I knew that I was being punished in some way. Maybe the Gods have put aside laughter for a moment and decided to be sure that I received fair punishment. In taking the route I have, I have taken such decisions from the higher powers and made sure that, in some way, I am in control of my life.”

   “So you punish yourself before anyone else has the chance to, is that it?” Anto was not convinced by my words, which were spoken with all honesty. “So how far will you take this balance? If something good happens to you will you find something to harm you? If you experience a moment of joy, will you make sure you feel a moment of misery? You have looked at balance from only one perspective. There is another reason why you do this to yourself.”

   “And what is that?” I am angered by his words but curious also as to his reasoning.

   “Because you are afraid of living again. You are afraid of making choices and you are afraid of the effect those choices will have on you, not just those around you. If you had not lost your arm in the battle, you will most likely have felt exonerated for your cowardly actions and continued in the army. If you had finally left the soldiers life, you may have picked up powerhammer and laserchisel again and continued with your work. But no, that ideal you had is not possible now and you are afraid of what you will have to do to survive. You were afraid that the life you wanted to return to with your sister was not possible because you were different because of your time away and your wound. You took a route so that all those decisions could be taken away from you.

   “You allowed yourself to be here, as you are now, because you are a coward.”

And then there is silence between us.

Why did I not roar defiance at his words? Why did I not scowl and snarl and return his speech with one of my own?

Because he had told me exactly what was true.

I do not know my expression. Perhaps I am looking at him with an emotionless face. Perhaps I am looking at him with sadness. Perhaps I am smiling now that I know the true knowledge of my reasons and I am glad I am at peace, of sorts. Whatever my features say, he reaches out and squeezes my shoulder.

   “You will always be my friend. You will always be the man who fought by my side and who saved my life. I am a Commander, now. When we reach the capital city, I will discuss this with my father and I will have you freed. It is more than you deserve.”

The tent flaps rustle and he has re-entered. The guard returns to stand once again by the entrance.

And I am left standing in the night, looking at the place my friend had been standing and then, strangely, hating him for telling me the truth.