“We live better?”
“Believe it, we do.”
They were now on a definite downward slope but there was no sign of the group slowing their pace. How much further could they go before the slope became so acute they would all lose their footing and start to slide down the side of the hull?
“How much further?” she asked Milo worriedly.
“Quite a way, I’m afraid.”
“But surely we can’t go much further,” she protested.
“Why do you think we’re carrying these ropes?”
“Oh Mother God. …” she sighed.
Jan had been curious as to where Milo planned to obtain the food he’d mentioned. She’d become more curious as she followed him down the rows of flimsy cubicles and into the main communal area. The pair of them attracted angry glares from the few other slaves already up but no one said anything. Milo led Jan to the spiral stairs. “Up you go,” he said.
She was surprised. “We can just leave? I thought we were prisoners here.”
“We’re prisoners, all right, but we can go where we like on board the Pangloth. As long as it’s anywhere bearing the sign.” He pointed at the black star on his cheek. “Bannion must have told you that when he branded you.”
“Oh, yes, I think he did,” she said as she mounted the stairs. “But I wasn’t paying much attention at the time.”
“That’s understandable. Meeting Bannion for the first time is not a pleasurable experience for any slave. I imagine it must be much worse for a woman.”
“Yes. And I remember now something else he told me—that if I turn out to be clean he’d like to get to know me much better.” They were now walking along the tunnel Benny had brought her down. Milo said, “What he meant was that if whichever slave you slept with didn’t turn into a mass of cancers from some sexually-transmitted virus he would give you the honour of letting you become one of his personal slaves. Not a bad job. Plenty of good food and other luxuries. Of course you’d have to endure certain indignities, like getting his whip across your backside at frequent intervals. Bannion enjoys hurting women. Apart from making money I would say it’s his chief pleasure in life.”
Jan remembered the girl with Bannion. The thought of being like her was revolting. “How can anyone enjoy hurting someone else?” she asked Milo.
“That’s an interesting question. The evolutionary value of sado-masochistic traits has attracted a lot of speculation but I shall spare you my own theories … Let’s just say that you will find staying with me a much more agreeable fate.”
Another question had occurred to her. “You’re willing to make love to me right away. Why aren’t you afraid of getting a disease from me, like the Guild Master is?”
“Because he’s a superstitious cretin, like most of the sky people. The chances of your community harbouring any of the fatal viruses are very remote these days but the belief lingers on among these fools. The only really dangerous places still are the cities. Even though there are no people some of the plague spores were designed to live indefinitely. The ground itself is unhealthy.”
Jan said, “There haven’t been any plagues in Minerva for a long, long time. Very occasionally someone will die from the fungus but that’s all.”
“So you see, I’m not being brave by wanting to sleep with you. Just rational. And I think it’s irrational that we should wait the full week.”
“You promised,” she told him. “We made an agreement.”
“And I’m not breaking it. I’m simply asking you to reconsider. Surely you too will do the rational thing and accept my demands. It would be irrational of you to do otherwise.”
She said nothing and they spent the rest of the journey in silence. Their destination turned out to be the enclosed ‘town’ that the Sky Warrior, Tanith, had escorted her through the day before. There weren’t so many people about this time, which she presumed was due to the earliness of the hour. Nor was she subjected to the abuse she’d received on the previous occasion. She wondered why. She was still the same ‘disease-ridden earthworm’ that she’d been the day before. What had changed? Was it Milo’s presence? Or was it the star-shaped brand she now displayed on her cheek? Most likely it was because everyone knew she was now the property of Guild Master Bannion. …
Milo stopped at a stall selling melons. The woman running the stall was obviously not happy about serving Milo—she scowled at him and muttered something under her breath—but she took his money just the same.
As he gave her the melon to carry she said, “Where did you get the money?”
“From Bannion. He gets paid a lot of money for our services and he pays us a pittance. Just enough to stay alive on, plus the occasional luxury.” He stopped at another stall. This one sold long tubes of what Jan suspected were made of dried meat.
“I’m not eating any of that,” she told him.
“You won’t be. It’s for me. One of those rare luxuries I told you about.”
They stopped at three more stalls where he bought some unfamiliar-looking vegetables, some wizened fruit—oranges and pears—and finally some bread. Then they returned to the slave quarters. The communal area had filled up in their absence. Women were cooking at the stoves while the men were seated around the low tables or reclining on the dirty straw matting. The chatter that had filled the air as they’d descended the stairway vanished as soon as they’d reached the bottom. The feeling of hostility was palpable, but no one made a move against them as she and Milo walked by.
“Hope you weren’t expecting a hot meal,” said Milo softly. “But I think it would be wise to keep out of the way of the others until things cool down a bit.”
She agreed with him. The less contact she had with the other slaves the better she felt.
Unimpressive as the food was she was grateful for it and told Milo so when she’d finished eating. He shrugged and cut off another sliver from the tube of dried meat. “You’re welcome.”
“I’ll make it up to you.”
“I certainly hope so,” he said, looking directly at her. His meaning was clear.
“I meant I’ll repay the money.”
“There’s no need to—once our arrangement comes into practice.” He put the sliver of meat into his mouth and chewed contentedly, his eyes still on her.
She looked away. Her gaze fastened on the painting on the wall. “Who did that?” she asked, anxious to change the subject.
“I did.”
She stared at the swirling colours and shapes. “What’s it supposed to be?”
“If you mean what is it supposed to represent, the answer is nothing. It’s an aid for, well, relaxation. By concentrating on it I can more easily enter a neutral state of mind. Which means I trigger a set of those neuro-peptides I was telling you about—those natural happy drugs in our brains.”
“I see,” said Jan slowly. The painting looked anything but relaxing. To stave off what she feared might be another of his long, nonsensical lectures she asked him where he’d lived before coming on board the Lord Pangloth.
“On the ocean,” he answered. “In a sea habitat.”
“A what?”
“Call it a floating town. Used to be a lot of them once upon a time. Mine was probably one of the last in existence. The oceans have their own form of blight. They’ve become too dangerous. Too dangerous for human life, anyway.”
She asked him in what way.
“Squids, for one thing. They’ve practically taken over out there, thanks to the damn Japanese.”