you want."
Of course. Now that he had been told, the social setup appeared
obvious. Because he had seen slaves and slave-holders, Jason had held
the mistaken notion that they were different classes of society, when
in reality there was only one class, what might be called the
dog-eat-dog class. He should have been aware of this when he had seen
how careful Ch'aka was to never allow anyone within striking distance
of him, and how he vanished each night to some hidden spot. This was
free enterprise with a vengeance, carried to its absolute extreme with
every man out for himself, every other man's hand turned against him,
and your station in life determined by the strength of your arm and
the speed of your reflexes. Anyone who stayed alone placed himself
outside this society and was therefore an enemy of it and sure to be
killed on sight. All of which added up to the fact that he had to kill
Ch'aka if he wanted to get ahead. He still had no desire to do it, but
he had to.
*
That night he watched Ch'aka when he slipped away from the others and
Jason made a careful note of the direction that he took. Of course the
slave master would circle about before he concealed himself, but with
a little luck Jason would find him. And kill him. He had no special
love of midnight assassination, and until landing on this planet had
always believed that killing a sleeping man was a cowardly way to
terminate another's existence. But special conditions demand special
solutions, and he was no match for the heavily armored man in open
combat, therefore the assassin's knife. Or rather sharpened horn. He
managed to doze fitfully until some time after midnight, then slipped
silently from under his skin coverings. Silently he skirted the
sleepers and crept into the darkness between the dunes.
Finding Ch'aka in the wilderness of the desert night was not easy, yet
Jason persisted. He made careful sweeps in wider and wider arcs,
working his way out from the sleeping slaves. There were gullies and
shadowed ravines and all of them had to be searched with utmost care.
The slave master was sleeping in one of them and would be alert for
any sound. The fact that he had also made special precautions to guard
against assassination was only apparent to Jason after he heard the
bell ring. It was a tiny sound, barely detectable, but he froze
instantly. There was a thin strand pressing against his arm, and when
he drew back carefully the bell sounded again. He cursed silently for
his stupidity, only remembering now about the bells he had heard from
Ch'aka's sleeping site. The slaver must surround himself every night
with a network of string that would sound alarm bells if anyone
attempted to approach in the dark. Slowly and soundlessly Jason drew
back deeper into the gully.
With a thud of rushing feet Ch'aka appeared, swinging his club around
his head, coming directly towards Jason. Jason rolled desperately
sideways and the club crashed into the ground, then he was up and
running at top speed down the gully. Rocks twisted under his feet and
he knew that if he tripped he was dead, yet he had no choice other
than flight. The heavily armored Ch'aka could not keep up with him and
Jason managed to stay on his feet until the other was left behind.
Ch'aka shouted with rage and hurled curses after him, but he could not
catch him. Jason, panting for breath, vanished into the darkness and
made a slow circle back to the sleeping camp. The noise would have
roused them and he stayed away for an estimated hour, shivering in the
icy predawn, before he slipped back to his waiting skins. The sky was
beginning to gray and he lay awake wondering if he had been
recognized: he didn't think he had.
As the red sun climbed over the horizon Ch'aka appeared on top of the
dunes, shaking with rage.
"Who did it?" he screamed. "Who came in night." He stalked among them,
glaring right and left, and no one stirred except to draw away from
his stamping feet. "Who did it?" he shouted again as he
Of course. Now that he had been told, the social setup appeared
obvious. Because he had seen slaves and slave-holders, Jason had held
the mistaken notion that they were different classes of society, when
in reality there was only one class, what might be called the
dog-eat-dog class. He should have been aware of this when he had seen
how careful Ch'aka was to never allow anyone within striking distance
of him, and how he vanished each night to some hidden spot. This was
free enterprise with a vengeance, carried to its absolute extreme with
every man out for himself, every other man's hand turned against him,
and your station in life determined by the strength of your arm and
the speed of your reflexes. Anyone who stayed alone placed himself
outside this society and was therefore an enemy of it and sure to be
killed on sight. All of which added up to the fact that he had to kill
Ch'aka if he wanted to get ahead. He still had no desire to do it, but
he had to.
*
That night he watched Ch'aka when he slipped away from the others and
Jason made a careful note of the direction that he took. Of course the
slave master would circle about before he concealed himself, but with
a little luck Jason would find him. And kill him. He had no special
love of midnight assassination, and until landing on this planet had
always believed that killing a sleeping man was a cowardly way to
terminate another's existence. But special conditions demand special
solutions, and he was no match for the heavily armored man in open
combat, therefore the assassin's knife. Or rather sharpened horn. He
managed to doze fitfully until some time after midnight, then slipped
silently from under his skin coverings. Silently he skirted the
sleepers and crept into the darkness between the dunes.
Finding Ch'aka in the wilderness of the desert night was not easy, yet
Jason persisted. He made careful sweeps in wider and wider arcs,
working his way out from the sleeping slaves. There were gullies and
shadowed ravines and all of them had to be searched with utmost care.
The slave master was sleeping in one of them and would be alert for
any sound. The fact that he had also made special precautions to guard
against assassination was only apparent to Jason after he heard the
bell ring. It was a tiny sound, barely detectable, but he froze
instantly. There was a thin strand pressing against his arm, and when
he drew back carefully the bell sounded again. He cursed silently for
his stupidity, only remembering now about the bells he had heard from
Ch'aka's sleeping site. The slaver must surround himself every night
with a network of string that would sound alarm bells if anyone
attempted to approach in the dark. Slowly and soundlessly Jason drew
back deeper into the gully.
With a thud of rushing feet Ch'aka appeared, swinging his club around
his head, coming directly towards Jason. Jason rolled desperately
sideways and the club crashed into the ground, then he was up and
running at top speed down the gully. Rocks twisted under his feet and
he knew that if he tripped he was dead, yet he had no choice other
than flight. The heavily armored Ch'aka could not keep up with him and
Jason managed to stay on his feet until the other was left behind.
Ch'aka shouted with rage and hurled curses after him, but he could not
catch him. Jason, panting for breath, vanished into the darkness and
made a slow circle back to the sleeping camp. The noise would have
roused them and he stayed away for an estimated hour, shivering in the
icy predawn, before he slipped back to his waiting skins. The sky was
beginning to gray and he lay awake wondering if he had been
recognized: he didn't think he had.
As the red sun climbed over the horizon Ch'aka appeared on top of the
dunes, shaking with rage.
"Who did it?" he screamed. "Who came in night." He stalked among them,
glaring right and left, and no one stirred except to draw away from
his stamping feet. "Who did it?" he shouted again as he
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