He leaned forward, flicking on the village address system. Havu had much higher hopes for the Goatha being worked on the circus humans. He pressed the button that illuminated the village buildings, then he spoke into the address system. "Awake! Awake!" He paused for a moment, then smiled. "And, good morning!"
Billy Pratt dropped the chunk of milk rock into the basket, stood, and pressed his hands into the small of his back. The sun burned into the dust-filled pit, making the air hot as well as thick with dust. A few steps to his front, Stretch Dirak swung a pick against the pit wall, breaking loose pieces of the chalky substance, which would then roll to Billy's feet. As he looked around, everyone else in the pit was stooped over loading baskets or chopping at the walls. Billy shook his head. "What for?" he asked no one in particular. The sounds of mining drowned out his voice. What for, he thought. Bust out the milk rock, load up the bins, just so they can be taken someplace else and dumped.
"Human!" At the call from the guard tower, everyone in the pit stopped. Billy looked around. "Yes, you. The one standing. Bend your back, human. You have mountains to move."
Billy stooped over, shaking his head. "A regular damned poet," he muttered. "Mountains to move." As he picked up another chunk of rock, he saw another dust-coated figure move next to him, stoop down, and pick up a chunk of milk rock. Without turning his head, the figure spoke.
"Keep your eyes on your basket, and whisper when you answer. I'm Tom Warner. Your name?"
"Billy Pratt." Billy tossed the rock into the basket, then stooped and picked up another.
"That was your first and only warning. If he catches you loafing again, it's the shocks."
Billy had seen one of the other circus people get the shocks, and he redoubled his efforts. "Warner."
"What?"
"Just what is this Goatha thing?"
Tom shrugged as he reached for another rock. "Revenge. That's all I know. Francis seems to understand it better than I do."
"Francis? The human who runs the camp?"
"Yes." Tom dropped the rock into his basket and reached for another. "Do you know anything about the revolt? That big guy Dirak and the one you people call Duckfoot have been planning something, haven't they?"
"Why not? We can't spend the rest of our lives at this."
Tom shook his head. "It's been tried before. It won't work."
Billy almost stood and eased his back, but caught it in time and reached for another rock. "Why not? I only count three guard towers, and between the circus people and your crowd, there must be four thousand of us."
"I tell you, it's been tried. Those towers are invulnerable. I want you to talk to the revolt leaders and get them to call it off. Otherwise all of us will suffer."
"How can I..." Billy watched as Tom Warner hefted his basket, shouldered it, then staggered off toward the path to the bins at the lip of the pit. Billy turned back to the rocks and tried to concentrate on the strange way the village had been awakened that morning. The guard called Pussycat calling "good morning." It was a piece to a puzzle that he had yet to assemble for lack of pieces.
There was no way that he could influence the others about the revolt. Billy grimaced thinking of the way the others looked at him, half in blame for what had happened. No one came right out and said that he was responsible, but what they did say was enough. I sure wish the Patch were here. He'd know what to do. Patch would get us out of this. With Patch we never would have gotten into this—and so on. Billy was the show's Patch now, but no one called him that.
Billy spat onto the dusty ground, bent over and hefted his basket. Arthur Burnside Wellington, the Patch had haunted him ever since joining the City of Baraboo on Pendiia. The older fixer was a hard act to follow. It was always: Patch wouldn't have done it that way, or the Patch would have done a better job, or I sure wish the Patch was back with the show. After coming back from the pit the day before, he had spoken to the Governor about it. Mr. John was not sympathetic. Are you the fixer with this company? Yes. Then fix it, Billy. The show is in the cart. It's your job to get us out.
Billy shouldered the basket and turned toward the path. "Just what am I supposed to do?" he muttered.
"Stop work and form up for roll call!" An audible sigh arose from the pit at the sound of the guard's call. Billy lowered his basket, and when he stood he saw Stretch Dirak staring at him with narrowed eyes. Billy turned away and moved to where the other pit workers were making formation.
THIRTY-TWO
That evening, as Havu Da Miraac munched on his fourth meal ration, he watched the tired humans dragging themselves back from the eating building. A few stood in the dying light and talked briefly, then wandered off to their barracks and sleep. The horizon was already obscure, a hazy black against the purple-black of the darkening sky, and Havu flicked on the night detection field. He would wait until the street was clear before energizing the repulsor field. He looked down at the detection field's screen to check the zones outside the village limits and saw only a few minor tracings. Between the eating place and the barracks, however, wide red tracings marked the passage of the humans. One tracing moved from the eating place, came before the tower, and stopped. Havu frowned, then looked through the forward view bubble. The human, thin and dust-coated like the others, was looking up at the tower. Havu pressed the roll-call grid, narrowed its field to take in only the being standing before him. He studied the readout, then looked at the man.
"You are Billy Pratt, with the circus Goatha."
The man jumped as though startled. He looked around, then back up at the tower. "Yes... uh, Honor. I was just looking at the tower. I didn't mean anything by it."
"I am not offended." Havu paused for a moment, then shrugged. Why not? He was bored. "Pratt, what are you with the circus?"
"Fixer... legal adjuster." The man laughed and held out his arms. "I'm supposed to keep the show out of situations like this." The man looked down at his feet, shook his head, then looked back up at the tower. "Honor, mind if I ask you a question?"
"I do not mind."
"Do you stay in there all the time?"
"My watch is for a year. I remain in here during that period."
"Don't you get... well, bored?"
Havu leaned back in his chair, held his hand over the shock trigger, then lowered the hand to his lap. His movement made him realize that the human had hit upon a sore point, but it was not the human's fault. The question was reasonable from a human point of view. "I am not supposed to. Guards are picked for their aptitude at isolation."
The human made a strange face. "But, do you get bored?"
Havu studied the creature, then made a decision, "Yes. At times I am bored. I have entertainments in my capsule, and there is the Goatha to observe, but even so I get bored."
The human rubbed his chin. "Mind if I ask another question?"
"No."
"A couple of people have tried to explain it to me, but I really don't understand. What is a Goatha?"