The Frihet Rebellion

Kramer and his eleven crew marched through the jungle accompanied by twenty M’Abuutan. At the head, with Kramer and Chia close behind, was M’b’gera, guiding them with confidence along a path that was all but invisible to the Earthman.

M’b’gera and his men would get Kramer safely to the palace, where Chia would show them the secret entrance she used. Kramer would then grab the Princess and escape. It was simplistic but achievable, so Kramer believed. Once they had escaped from the Palace with the Princess, his plan ran into difficulty. He had no way of getting her off-planet and back to Earth. But he refused to dwell on the problem. The first and major task was to kidnap the Princess. Once he had her in his power, he would find a way to accomplish the rest. He had to believe that.

“You think a lot,” said Chia, keeping pace with him.

“There’s a lot to think about,” said Kramer. “As long as you’re clear on your part in this, you don’t have to worry about the rest.”

“Chia know her part well. Chia show you her way into the palace. Then Chia distract Princess’s personal guards. Guards know Chia well. It will be simple.”

“Good, because I doubt anything else will be.”

The jungle was hot and humid, and the Earthmen struggled in the heat, their energy drained, their vision blurred by sweat running from their foreheads. They drank water, provided by the M’Abuutan, in copious amounts, but many still felt dizzy, disoriented. Kramer suffered too, but pushed on. The jungle could not last forever. If his crew could just hold on long enough, everything would be fine.

M’b’gera forged his way through tangles of plants, vines and branches. Head down, Kramer followed, hands and arms cut from the points and barbs flicking back across the trail. He suspected, at times, that M’b’gera was deliberately taking a difficult route, making the Earthmen, and Kramer in particular, suffer for their intrusion on his people. A stinging branch across his cheek almost brought him to the point of challenging the native, but he decided to remain quiet. Whether he liked it or not, he needed M’b’gera and his hunters. Kramer and eleven crew were not enough to attempt his plan on their own.

The relief could be heard from the Earthmen as they finally broke out of the jungle onto open grassland. It remained as hot, but the claustrophobic closeness of the jungle was left behind them. M’b’gera did not pause, leading them in a straight path ahead.

To Kramer’s left, large cow-like animals grazed, their movements slow and deliberate. They did not seem dangerous, but Kramer kept a wary eye on them nevertheless. Several times in their walk across the open land, he thought he heard low growls and saw the long grass moving, waving with the passing of some large animal. At those times he noted the native hunters lifting their spears, their long hunting knives. After a moment, the weapons would be lowered again as no attack came. But Kramer knew there were predators out there, nearby. He thought of lions and tigers back on Earth, and how history told him that, once, they roamed freely in areas of the world. It was not something he had ever been able to truly imagine. Now he began to understand.

He was not sorry when M’b’gera led them out of the grasslands onto a rough and rocky coastline. He was surprised, however, when he saw that a large fishing boat waited alongside a small wooden jetty, low waves slapping against its hull.

M’b’gera saw Kramer’s puzzled look and laughed, speaking quickly in his native tongue to Chia. After a moment’s listening, Chia turned to Kramer.

“M’b’gera say, did you think we all lived among trees? We have cousins all over the planet. Here, our cousins who fish the waters around our island, have agreed to take us to the mainland.”

M’b’gera and his hunters were already climbing aboard the old but sturdy looking vessel. Chia started to follow, pausing to turn back and beckon Kramer forward.

“Come. We must be quick. Patrols in area.”

Kramer nodded to his crew and they quickly followed Chia along the jetty and onto the boat. Last to board, Kramer had barely ducked below deck when he heard the sound of powerful engines and the approach of another boat.

Chia, translating for M’b’gera, said, “Patrol boat. Stay quiet.”

Kramer motioned for his crew to fall silent as the engines of the patrol boat slowed and then ticked over alongside the fishing boat.

Even though he strained to hear, and he felt certain that the words were in galactic, he could not make out what was being said between the occupants of the patrol boat and the Captain of the fishing vessel. He listened for sounds of boarding, for any indication that they could be in danger of discovery, but the tone of the conversation seemed light and, soon, the engines of the patrol boat roared to life again and began to fade.

Chia, once more translating for M’b’gera, said, “Captain Actnin fishes these waters often. The patrols know him. We are safe, for now.”

The fishing boat was named, when translated into galactic, Demon Of The Waves. A somewhat grand title, Kramer thought, for a wooden-built fishing vessel working the calm seas of the channel between the Frihet mainland and the M’Abuutan island. But he was in no mood to criticize Captain Actnin’s choice of name, when he had been impressed by the native’s coolness with the Frihet patrol boat. Captain Actnin also spoke excellent galactic and, unlike King Ideb’s tribe, wore clothes: shorts and an open shirt, both manufactured on the Frihetian mainland. It was clear the Captain had much more contact and interaction with the Frihetians than his jungle cousins.

The crew of the boat were mostly uncommunicative, keeping their heads down and doing their jobs. Kramer suspected it was a case of the less they saw the less they could be accused of by the Frihetian authorities, should they be caught. Like their Captain, they all wore clothes appropriated from the Frihetians. Kramer was reasonably certain their wardrobes would not be extensive.

Happy that the patrols would not return for more than an hour, Actnin allowed M’b’gera and Kramer’s people onto the deck. Many chose to stay below. The hunters, in particular, obviously uncertain about floating around on the water. But M’b’gera, Kramer, Chia and several of Kramer’s crew, leaned on the rails, looking out over calm waters to the solid edge of the mainland ahead.

“You know,” said Kramer, talking to Chia. “On our spaceships we talk about sailing, and still use a lot of the old nautical terminology, but it’s nothing like this. Nothing like real sailing.”

“You like?” said Chia, smiling at him.

“I like,” said Kramer, turning his face into the warm breeze that flowed around the slow-moving vessel. He watched the water breaking around the prow of the boat, listened to the way the rolling waves slapped against the hull. “I think I would have liked to have served in the old Navy, when it was a real Navy.”

“You not have water on Earth?”

Kramer laughed. “Oh, we have plenty of water. We go over it on bridges, or under through tunnels or, if it’s too big for either of them, we fly over it. Not much sails on the surface of Earth’s oceans any more, and certainly no kind of navy.”

They were interrupted by Captain Actnin calling back from the wheelhouse.

“We land soon. Best get back below decks until I find a nice quiet place to drop you off.”

No one, least of all Kramer, questioned the suggestion. They immediately left the rails and made their way below decks, back to the dimly lit, creaking hideaway with a distinct odor of fish.

After a brief search, Captain Actnin dropped anchor off a narrow, sandy beach. His passengers sank into waist deep water and waded ashore, as the boat carried no dinghies and the beach had no jetty. Some of Kramer’s crew grumbled, but he glared at them until they fell quiet. In truth, he was enjoying the feel of the sea, the walk up onto the beach. He had been locked inside a spaceship for too long, he decided. When he got back to Earth, he would visit the ocean. Perhaps he would even buy a sailboat.

As soon as the last man was wading ashore, Captain Actnin weighed anchor and headed back out into the channel, back to his regular route, so as not to arouse the suspicions of the patrols. He waved a quick goodbye, a wave returned by M’b’gera and Kramer.

“We could do with a chance to dry off,” said First Officer Crane, pulling awkwardly at his wet uniform trousers.

“Dry off while you walk,” said Kramer. “This isn’t a vacation.”

M’b’gera, although he could not understand the words, understood the tone, and smiled at Kramer, nodding.

M’b’gera, Kramer and Chia strode inland towards cultivated fields and signs of civilization. The others followed, some more willingly than others. Kramer winced at the uncomfortable feel of his wet clothes sticking to him as he walked, and he glanced sideways towards Chia and M’b’gera, for once envying them their nakedness. Getting wet made little difference to them.

Before long, the land they walked through had every sign of human intrusion. The grass was well maintained, the plants and flowers cared for and corralled into small, bordered areas. Pathways were paved or concreted or, as they got closer to the Palace, coated in smooth plasteel.

Kramer looked at Chia with new respect. This was a journey she made regularly and alone. He was unsure how she crossed the channel, but he guessed there was always a space on board a fishing boat for someone like Chia. It was a long and tiring trek she made, just so she could spend time in her village. The tribal bond was obviously strong.

They approached the outskirts of the Palace grounds in darkness. Lamps burned in many of the Palace windows, visible beyond the walls and gardens of the grounds, but Chia assured Kramer that the lamps were unattended. Few people, if any, would be awake inside the Palace walls. At the edge of the grounds, M’b’gera and his hunters found places to wait while Chia, Kramer and his crew crept onward.

As Chia had promised, the guards were sparse and easy to avoid. The Earthmen, with their native guide, reached the outer walls of the Palace itself without incident.

It’s arrogance, thought Kramer. Sheer arrogance. They don’t believe that anyone would dare attack the Palace. Well, they’re wrong!

Chia then led Kramer and his crew through a narrow gap in the wall and onto stone steps. There was no light and Chia advised against lighting any lamp. Instead, they felt their way along rough walls and tripped over rough-hewn steps as they ascended. It was clear to Kramer that this was not a passage in common use, except by Chia.

They pushed through a narrow door at the top of the steps and exited into a dimly lit corridor. They were inside the Palace. Kramer smiled. His plan was going to work!

The guards outside Princess Thalor’s private suite were, unlike their comrades throughout the rest of the Palace, conspicuous by actually being there. Three of them, fully armed and very alert. Kramer knew that only the best and most trustworthy would be chosen for such important duty.

“Can you bring all three?” hissed Kramer to Chia, as they hid around a corner from the long walk up to the private suite’s door.

Chia turned a look on him that he had little trouble in translating.

“Go do your stuff,” he said, smiling.

Chia walked calmly around the corner, her familiar naked body immediately noticed by the guards.

“Hey, Chia,” called one of them. “Not seen you in a while.”

“Chia been busy other place of Palace,” said Chia, still walking towards them. “But Chia missed her soldiers.”

“We missed you too,” said another of the guards. “Been boring around here without you.”

“Chia like the idea of making it interesting for you right now,” said Chia, and Kramer could hear the smile in her voice.

“We’re on duty.”

“Would not be first time,” said Chia.

There was a long pause, and Kramer understood the dilemma the soldiers faced. Chia was not easy to resist.

“It’s not like anything ever happens,” said one of the guards, breaking the silence. “And the doors are locked.”

“The storeroom’s just around the corner,” said another. “We won’t be far away.”

“What if the Princess wakes up and finds us gone?”

“When has she ever woken up?” said the guard who had suggested the storeroom. “She sleeps solidly every night. Lead on Chia.”

Wasn’t difficult, thought Kramer, listening from around the corner. If those boys worked for me, I’d string them up by their balls.

He could hear Chia and the three guards heading towards him, towards the storeroom just a little further down the corridor. He looked back, gave the warning sign to his crew.

The three guards were jumped the moment they reached the corner, giving them no chance to run or sound an alarm. Kramer’s crew were ruthless and, in seconds, all three guards lay dead on the corridor floor. Their throats had been sliced open.

Chia stood for a moment, looking down at the bodies. If she felt any guilt or regret she did not show it, simply shrugged and following Kramer as he and his crew hurried towards the private suite’s doors.

The doors were unlocked with a key liberated from one of the dead guards, and Kramer strode through as though he belonged there, followed by Chia. He motioned for the rest of his crew to remain at the doors, as Chia led him through the darkened living area towards a separate bedroom.

Chia padded silently to the side of the large bed, which was draped in fine cloth and translucent veils. Kramer followed and stood looking down at the sleeping Princess Thalor.

She is beautiful, he thought. All the rumors are true.

She lay with the covers pushed down to her waist. Kramer stared for a long time at her breasts, pushing against the restraint of the sheer nightdress. He felt stirrings within that went beyond mere kidnap. Once she was in his power, he could do as he liked.

Chia shook her head in mild amusement and bewilderment. Why look at a covered woman when a naked one stood next to you? She would never understand men not of her tribe.

Kramer, without the time or the materials to be subtle, punched the sleeping woman in the head, once, twice. Chia jumped at each blow but said nothing. But she no longer smiled.

Certain that the Princess was now unconscious, rather than asleep, Kramer picked her slim form out of the bed with ease and threw her over his shoulder.

Followed by Chia, he hurried back to his crew at the private suite’s door. Pausing to re-lock the private suite’s doors, they made their escape. They travelled quickly back the way they had entered, unmolested by any Frihetians. The Palace remained quiet. Within minutes, Kramer, with his unconscious burden, had rejoined M’b’gera at the edge of the Palace grounds. As one, they hurried away into the night.