Solbidyum Wars 3: Pirates of Goo'waddle Canals (33 page)

“Wake up, Tibby.  It’s your turn to take a watch.”

I yawned.  “What time is it?”

“It’s about halfway to dawn.  It’s been pretty quiet so far tonight.  I doubt that after our visit today we’ll have any more encounters with the Brotherhood until the time they have allotted us is up.  I only hope we find Logden and the solbidyum before they decide to get truly nasty.”

“I know what we’re doing involves a huge risk, but I think we offer Logden the only choice for getting off this planet alive.  I think we’ll be hearing from him soon in one way or another.”

While we were talking, I glanced out over the water.  There seemed to be a lot more boats moving about than were customary for this time of night.

“You noticed them, too,” Marranalis said with a note of concern.  “You think it means anything?”

“I’m not sure.  I doubt it’s the Brotherhood coming back, unless they found their brothers working in a slave gang.”

“Let’s hope that doesn’t happen.  I’m going in to get some sleep.  Let me know if anything happens with those boats gathering out there.”

It seemed that every time I looked up over the next few hours, another boat or two had joined the growing numbers in the canal.  It was just getting light in the sky when I noted several smaller boats moving away from the larger ones toward the embankment.  I immediately went to wake Marranalis, who was sleeping in the slave house with Tanden.

“It looks like we’re going to have visitors shortly
– a lot of visitors.  We need to get into the big house and alert the others.” 

Before I finished what I was saying, Tanden was awake and scampering into his hiding place.

“Do you think it’s the Brotherhood?”

“I have no idea, but they’re coming
en mass, whoever they are.”

By the time Marranalis and I got back to the house, the smaller boats were tying up at the piers along the canal and dark figures were disembarking.  There had to be several dozen of them, but it was not possible to make out their features in the dim light.  However, it was clear from their capes and other attire that these were Ruwallie Rasson, and from their postures and movements we were sure they weren’t just paying a social visit. 

“Kerabac,” I called.  “Wake up, we have a large number of Ruwallie Rasson heading this way and they’re not looking any too pleasant!”

“What?” Kerabac murmured as he tried to wake himself.  “Ruwallie Rasson?  What time is it?  How many of them?” he blurted
, as he hastily got out of bed and began to dress.

“Several dozen, I would say,” Marranalis said as he peered out one of the broken windows from the Brotherhood visit. 

“This is not good…not good at all,” Kerabac said.  By now Kala, Endina, and Sokaia joined us in their respective characters as Padaran went to the other side of the house to check out the windows there.

“It looks like we’re surrounded,” Padaran called back to us.  “They’re approaching from this side of the house, too.”

Just then, the front door again flew open with a crash and several armed Ruwallie Rasson men entered, followed by dozens more.  Their dark skins accented the whites of their eyes, and their angry looks didn’t bode well.

“Let me handle this, Tibby.  Don’t take any action unless I give you a signal,” Kerabac said quietly as he entered the room, never removing his eyes from the leader of this pack of men.

Kerabac moved his right foot slightly behind his left and gave a slight bow, with his hands draped slightly to the sides and palms facing forward.

“Greetings, and welcome to my humble abode.  I regret that I am unable to offer you proper hospitality, but as you can see, we are in rather a poor state of repair at the moment.  What, pray tell, brings you to my residence so early and unexpected this morning?”

“Cut the formal crap, Kerabac.  You are Kerabac the trader, are you not?  The trader who has been selling liquor to the local clubs and merchants, and the Kerabac who ran the Brotherhood blockade this week?”

“I am Kerabac, and yes, I have sold liquor to a few local clubs.  Is there some problem with that?”

“We have no record of a Kerabac as a member of the cartel.  No one in our organization has ever heard of you before this week.”

“I came here from the other side of the galaxy,” Kerabac began, “where my family retreated when our home world entered the Federation and gave up the old ways.  There is no cartel there, and I was unaware you had one here or I certainly would have joined you.  I assure you, no offense was intended.”

“It’s too late for that now,” the leader said. “We have our rules here, and no Ruwallie Rasson operates or does business outside the cartel on this planet — that’s the rule!  So, as a consequence of your infraction, I – as leader of the Ruwallie Rasson – claim all your possessions and slaves as a penalty, and you shall serve as my personal slave until such time as I deem that you have paid for your crime.”

“Isn’t that a little harsh for selling a few bottles of liquor in ignorance of your cartel and its rules?” Kerabac said heatedly.

“If it were just a few bottles of liquor, it might be considered harsh; but you have the Brotherhood breathing down out necks and making life even more difficult for us than they were before.  They want your ship for some reason and we’re taking it.  If its secret is worth having, I’ll keep it; otherwise, we’ll give it to them to get them off our backs.”

“I fear you’ll have a hard time doing that, as the ship is not here,” Kerabac answered.

“Oh, I think you’ll be telling us where the ship is before too long,” the leader said with a wicked grin.  Several of the other Ruwallie men chuckled.

“I see,” Kerabac said with his head bent down.  I could tell he was looking to come up with a way out of this situation.  “I assume you still hold to and practice the old traditions?”

“We do, and what of it?” the leader snarled.

“Then I invoke the
Sith lubnol.”

I had no idea what Kerabac was talking about and my knowledge from the learning headband didn’t cover this aspect of Ruwallie Rasson culture.

“The Sith lubnol!” the leader laughed.  “To invoke that, you need to have relatives present who are members of the cartel and who will recognize you and agree with your challenge.  Does any man here recognize this Kerabac?” he said, looking about the room with a grin on his face.

“Let him recite the Ruwallie
cordett
,” someone called out from the group.

“Yes, let’s hear him recite it,” another called out.

I knew from talking to Kerabac in the past that the Ruwallie
cordett
was an oral history recited by a person of one’s lineage going back several generations; but I was not sure if Kerabac, who had grown up in the Federation and generally outside the Ruwallie Rasson traditions, would be able to recite it.  I was shocked when Kerabac broke into song.

“First there was
Nuondec, father of the clan.  To the stars he gave three sons, Unodec, Sondec and Morandec.  Unodec fathered four sons, Marnadec, Karasondec, Nurocondec and Meledec.  Meledec sired Colandec and….”

His song went on and on, until finally one man looked up in some type of recognition and walked over to stand at Kerabac’s side.  Soon another joined, and then another, until eventually, seven men were standing by Kerabac’s side when he finished his recitation.

“So, it would appear that you have some relatives here after all.  But are any of them prepared to stand for you in your claim of the Sith lubnol?”

Slowly, one by one, each of the men walked away, leaving Kerabac to stand alone once more.

“I thought not,” their leader said.  “So, now I claim you and all your slaves and your possessions — and from this time onward, you are my slave.”

“If I am now your slave, I challenge you to the Kandi Mondong!” a voice cried out.

I looked at Kerabac, only to see his head turning in shock to look at Padaran, who stood stiffly at the edge of the circle in a defiant pose, his fists clenched at his sides.

“YOU?! 
You
challenge me to the Kandi Mondong?” the leader laughed.  “You’re not even Ruwallie Rasson.  You’re nothing but a pathetic white worm, barely a man with fuzz on his chin.”

“Nevertheless, I challenge you,” Padaran said.  “I need not be Ruwallie Rasson to challenge you.  Did not
Worran of the Ginpa challenge Neeragon and win his freedom?”  At his words, there was some mumbling among the Ruwallie Rasson and some heads were nodding.

“How do you know of
Neeragon and Worran?” the leader said with surprise.  I, too, wondered, because I had no idea at all what he was talking about.

“Does it matter how I know?  I know, and that is all that is necessary, and my challenge still stands!”

I could see by the look of concern on Kerabac’s face that whatever was going on was very dangerous, and he was afraid for Padaran.

“Very well, worm.  You will only get to join your ancestors sooner than later.  You would not have lived long as my slave, as I have no need for pretty house boys.”
There was a round of laughing from the men gathered in the room.  “There’s not enough room inside for the Kandi Mondong.  Let us move outside.  If you’re lucky, you may get to die just as the sun crosses the horizon.”

Immediately, men grabbed Kerabac and the rest of my crew, including Kala, Sokaia and Endina.  When the leader noted Endina, he said, “She is not a slave, though she
is
an underling to Kerabac.  We will decide her fate after the Kandi Mondong.”

The men that grabbed Endina removed her weapons, but she was allowed to keep her wrist com with the cloaking device in it.  Once outside, Kerabac, Marranalis and I were tied together and guarded by several Ruwallie Rasson, while the rest formed a large circle in the back courtyard.

“What’s going to happen?” I whispered to Kerabac.

“The Ruwallie Rasson believe they are the chosen people in the universe and that they cannot be beaten unless it is the will of the gods.  According to these beliefs, the only way a slave can beat his master in combat is if it is ordained that it should be so.  But to make certain it is the will of the gods, the challenger is placed at a distinct disadvantage.  The Ruwallie Rasson will be armed with a dagger and will remain dressed; Padaran must fight him naked and unarmed.  That way, if he should win, it will be quite obvious it was the will of the gods.”

“And his opponent with the knife – what does he need to do to win?  Wound Padaran?”

“No, he must kill him.  For Padaran to win, he must either kill his opponent or must subdue him in a death situation where his opponent yields.”

“Do you think Padaran has a chance?” I asked.

“Honestly, I don’t know.  Padaran is very quick on his feet and his martial arts skills are very good — in fact, amazingly good.  But in order to become leader of the Ruwallie Rasson, their leader must have proven himself to be the best that there is at wielding a knife.  He has already killed several men using a knife just to attain leader status, and you can assume there is none better on the planet.  But if by some means Padaran beats him, he will not only be set free, but he will take ownership of all his opponent’s possessions.  And since his opponent is the leader, Padaran will become the new leader of the Ruwallie Rasson.”

By now, Padaran was standing naked in the middle of the circle.  Over the past few months, he had gained a little weight, but he still looked very thin compared to the muscular Ruwallie Rasson men.  His opponent was a head taller and had a distinct advantage in reach over Padaran.  Add to that a 300 millimeter razor-sharp and thin-bladed knife, and it looked like it was not going to be any match at all.

The leader walked out to the center of the ring where Padaran stood, as if he was planted in the ground.  With one quick move, the leader brought his knife up in a motion that would have gutted Padaran in an instant, had he not moved rapidly out of the way of the blade.  His move was so quick that everyone gasped, as he once again stopped and stood in a fixed pose with no expression on his face.

“What have we here?  A
little hopping ragget
.  We shall see how long it takes to skin this one,” Padaran’s opponent snarled. 

From the crowd, cheers could be heard, “Spill his guts!  Let his blood feed the ground!”

On his next attempt, the leader grabbed Padaran’s right arm with his left hand while bringing his knife around quickly in a motion intended to slit Padaran’s throat, if not behead him entirely.  Padaran stepped in and under his opponent’s arm quickly as the knife passed over his head and, as he did, he reached down and grabbed his opponent’s left leg.  His attacker had placed all his weight on his right leg, so it was easy for Padaran to quickly lift the left leg and throw his opponent off balance, sending him flying across the ground. 

The Ruwallie spun quickly upon hitting the ground and swung back with his knife, as he expected Padaran to move in toward him on the offensive.  The blade moved through empty air and a confused look crossed his face, as he glanced back to see Padaran standing once more in the center of the circle with the same blank and calm expression on his face.  Murmurs could be heard from those in the surrounding circle.

“I’m through playing with you, worm.  It’s time for you to die,” the Ruwallie Rasson leader growled, as he got to his feet and slowly began to circle Padaran.  By now, the sun had risen and the rays were shining at Padaran’s back.  The man began to slowly move around the circle of men, but Padaran didn’t move, nor did he seem to be paying any attention to the Ruwallie Rasson leader at all. 

When the leader had gotten around the circle behind Padaran, he suddenly charged.  Just as he was on top of Padaran and sweeping down with the knife to stab him in the back, Padaran dropped and rolled quickly to his left.  His opponent went tumbling from the force of his own momentum.  Padaran once more took up his position in the center of the circle.

By now, the Ruwallie Rasson surrounding the circle were yelling, but it was impossible to hear or understand what they were saying.  The leader regained his balance and, looking back at Padaran with a look of hatred and anger, suddenly threw his knife with lightning speed at Padaran.  It was as if time slowed down in my mind, as I saw Padaran shift his weight slightly and turn just before the knife reached him.  I fully expected it to fly past him and hit one of the Ruwallie Rasson men in the outer edge of the circle.  Instead, I saw Padaran’s right arm sweep up and clasp the hilt of the knife just as the blade passed his hand, in a motion so quick that it defied all logic and belief.

Padaran leaped forward, catching the leader completely off guard.  With his left arm, Padaran grabbed the Ruwallie Rasson leader’s right arm, which was still extended from the knife throw, and spun him into an arm lock.  With his right hand, he had the knife at the leader’s throat.

“Yield now or your blood will feed the ground,” Padaran said, loud enough for all to hear. 

The sudden silence that encompassed the place was deafening.  Everyone stood in shock, their jaws hanging.  Tears filled the eyes of the Ruwallie Rasson leader and he trembled in Padaran’s hands.

Once more, Padaran said, “Yield now or your blood will feed the ground.” 

I could see a trickle of blood welling from the place where Padaran’s blade pressed against the throat of the leader.

“I yield,” the leader finally cried.  “I yield!”  And with that, Padaran let loose his hold on the leader, who dropped to his knees and buried his face in the ground as he shook with sobs. 

At the same time, many of the Ruwallie Rasson dropped to one knee and bowed their heads, holding out their right arm in acceptance of Padaran’s defeat and claim of leadership; but a few remained standing.  One exclaimed, “I do not accept this white man to be a fit leader of the Ruwallie Rasson.  I challenge his leadership.”

Padaran looked around the group and then said in a calm but clear voice, “You believe that only by the will of the gods can a Ruwallie Rasson be defeated in combat by one not Ruwallie Rasson, is that not true?”

“Yes,” many murmured. 

But the one who challenged said, “It may have been the gods’ will that you defeat Tondor, but that is not to say that it is their will that you should be the leader of the Ruwallie Rasson.”

At this, many of the men who had knelt earlier stood up and shouted, “Yes, it is only the gods’ will that you be free and Tondor be defeated, not that you should be leader.”

“Do you not also believe that a woman can never beat a Ruwallie Rasson because women are less than a man and only meant for a man’s pleasure and to bear him children?” Padaran asked.

“What is he up to now?” I quietly asked Kerabac, who stood with a look of astonishment on his face.

“I have no idea,” Kerabac said.  “I’m wondering where he learned so much Ruwallie Rasson tradition and beliefs.  I think he knows more of our history and customs than I do.”

As he was saying this, I could hear the Ruwallie Rasson answering “Yes,” to his question about the role of women.

“So, then, I hold that it IS the gods’ will that you accept me as your leader, and to prove it, I challenge one of your best men to fight any one of the women here.  If that woman defeats the challenger, you will all lay down your arms and accept that it is the will of the gods that it is to be so.”

“I’ll accept that!” one man shouted, followed by another and another. 

“Then pick your man and pick one of these women you wish to fight him.”

“By the stars, Padaran is brilliant!” Kerabac muttered with admiration.  “Any one of our women can easily beat the other Ruwallie Rasson here…at least, I think they can.”

I was glad to hear Kerabac say that; but I wasn’t as confident as he was and I was hoping it would not be Kala chosen to participate in the fight — even though I had great confidence in her abilities.  As it turned out, the man who had said he would not accept Padaran as his leader was the one chosen by the Ruwallie Rasson to fight a woman.  He was angry about this development and said it was beneath him to fight a woman; but at the insistence of his fellow clansmen, he was pushed into it.

There was some debate as to which of the women they wanted him to fight.  Endina they excluded, because of her Ruwallie Rasson blood, so it was a question whether it should be Sokaia or Kala.  Some felt Kala was too pretty to fight, but they also noted that Sokaia was rather muscular; they also noted her scars and suspected she may be a seasoned fighter.  In the end, they opted for Kala and my heart sank. 

Kala entered the circle naked, like Padaran had and, also like Padaran, she stood patiently while her Ruwallie Rasson opponent moved about her, trying to determine his initial mode of attack.  Finally, he moved rapidly toward her and grabbed her by the arm as he thrust forward with his knife.  It was a classic attack, one so well-rehearsed by all my troops that anyone of them could have performed the counteraction with their eyes closed.  In the blink of an eye, Kala had her opponent lying on his back with his own knifepoint at his throat. 

With a total look of terror in his eyes, the man immediately squeaked, “I yield!”

All around the circle, men fell to their knees and lay their weapons to their sides as they saluted Padaran with their right arms extended.

Kerabac and I turned and looked at each other – and then broke out laughing. 

“I certainly didn’t see that one coming,” Kerabac said.

“Neither did I…I just wonder what Padaran is planning to do now that he’s leader of the Ruwallie Rasson.”

As all of this unfolded, we learned that the name of the Ruwallie Rasson leader was Tondor.  In keeping with tradition, Tondor, as the defeated master, became the slave and all his possessions became the property of the former slave and victorious challenger, including any positions or titles that he held.  The Ruwallie Rasson took this tradition very seriously; and now Tondor was serving Padaran and answering to his every whim.

Padaran handled it very coolly and did not make Tondor do anything outrageous to humiliate him more than he already he had been by his defeat.  Tondor and his cartel seriously believed that the gods had to have played a part in this turn of events, as he could not conceive of any other way that Padaran could have beaten him.

As the new leader of the Ruwallie Rasson, Padaran was expected to outline the rules he expected them to follow.  Oddly, Padaran continued to amaze Kerabac and the rest of us by repeatedly demonstrating how well versed he was in Ruwallie Rasson culture and traditions.  The rules that he pronounced as the new leader involved sweeping changes, which he instituted without challenge by citing historical and traditional precedents that ensured the full compliance of the clansmen. 

First on his list was abolition of slavery; the Ruwallie Rasson were to immediately end the practice and set their slaves free.  Upon release, they were also required to pay each slave the
equivalent of one year’s pay at the rate that a free laborer would have been paid for the jobs they performed. 

If they wished, and if the former slaves were willing, the former Ruwallie Rasson masters could hire the former slave to work for him at a proper pay scale under the condition that the ex-slave was treated as any other free man or woman.  Failure to do so would result in the forfeiture of all property of the Ruwallie Rasson violator and loss of his cartel membership. 

There was much grumbling about this from the Ruwallie Rasson; but Padaran cited examples from when their home world became part of the Federation.  These reasons, regrettably, were the same reasons that had caused this faction of the Ruwallie Rasson to break away from the rest of their kin; however, the recent demonstration of Padaran’s defeat of Tondor and Kala’s defeat of her opponent convinced the Ruwallie Rasson that slavery was no longer favored by their gods so, reluctantly, they conceded to give it up. 

Since Tondor had technically taken Kerabac’s possessions prior to Padaran’s victory, including Kala, Sokaia, Padaran and myself, we now were free and Padaran was now was the owner of Kerabac’s business and possessions.  Padaran made it clear that we were no longer slaves, but that he was hiring us and that our wages would be discussed privately.  All of this, of course, was a sham; but we stayed in character and let this rather interesting development play out to the advantage of our mission. 

While Padaran was busy discussing terms and business practices with the Ruwallie Rasson, Marranalis, Kala and I quietly retreated to the slave house.  Tanden peeked out through the air vent grill and, once he was certain that we were alone, he slipped out to join us.  He immediately asked if Padaran was OK, as he was apparently able to hear some of what had unfolded.  We told him the details of what happened and he jumped up and down with glee to learn that Padaran defeated Tondor. 

“I knew it,” he said, “I knew he was a great fighter.  He’s the best!”

It was obvious he admired and looked up to Padaran, and after these latest events, Padaran moved up few steps to near god-like status in his young eyes.

It was late in the day before all the Ruwallie Rasson departed.  Tondor was the last to leave; Padaran nearly had to force him to go, as he kept insisting that he must serve him and that Padaran needed to come to his former
calgana
and take possession of his estate and property.  Padaran was finally able to get him to leave by insisting that he needed to take care of things with Kerabac’s former ship and possessions and that Tondor needed to go back and prepare the estate for Padaran to formally take ownership of it later on.  After Tondor left we all gathered on the patio for a meal as the sunset.  It was the first time any of us had eaten that day and we all were famished.  Tanden was stuck to Padaran’s side like glue, and he eagerly asked Padaran to relate every detail of his defeat of Tondor.  Padaran was more than happy to oblige; and as he related the events, he mimicked very accurately the voices of everyone in the story, which mesmerized Tanden and the rest of us, as well.

“How did you come to know so much about Ruwallie Rasson history and customs?” Kerabac asked.

“Back when I was in school, we had a teacher who was Ruwallie Rasson.  He often told us of the history and customs practiced by his people before the Ruwallie Rasson joined the Federation.  I was always impressed with his tales of Neeragon and Worran and the Kandi Mondong challenge — it was my favorite story when I was a kid.  When I heard you challenge Tondor with the Sith lubnol, I recognized that it would never work, and it dawned on me that our only hope lay with the Kandi Mondong.”

“Granted,” Kerabac said, “the
Sith lubnol might have saved us, if it had worked, but even though it turned out that I had relatives among the Ruwallie Rasson cartel, I needed to have their backing in the challenge, and it wasn’t likely I would get that.”

“I don’t understand,” I interjected
. “What exactly is the Sith lubnol?”

“The
Sith lubnol is the challenge of leadership.  If I had any relatives willing to support my right to challenge, I would have had to fight Tondor in combat.  We would have been equally armed, but I think the advantage of my martial arts training would have tipped the challenge strongly in my favor.  But I would have needed at least three relatives to stand with me in the challenge.  It was a long shot, but it was worth the try.”

“The thing I’m concerned about now is how this will affect Logden.  We were prepping him to believe that Kerabac was his answer to getting off Goo’Waddle; but now you are the new owner of the
RASSON BEDAN
in the eyes of the people.  You represent a new unknown.  I’m afraid now that Logden will shy away from us,” I said.

“Not necessarily,” Padaran began, “If I make Kerabac my partner and leave him in charge as Captain of the
RASSON BEDAN,
Logden should still feel some level of confidence that he can approach Kerabac.”

“Hmm, you may be right.  I suspect that by tomorrow word will have spread all over the city about what happened here.  If you make Kerabac your partner and announce it formally, it should help solidify the Ruwallie
Rasson’s backing of you and increase your position of strength.  The Ruwallie Rasson and the Brotherhood don’t seem to be in very good standing with each other, so your newfound position with them should make the Brotherhood second guess trying to take you on, which in turn might encourage Logden to come to us.”