Freelance Traveller

by Ken Bearden

POV: Gyr, in a jail cell in Itzeny on Pysadi

Gyr Lurkhurdaadaagige looked up from his Pysadian readings this day--he's read just about all of them--and thought to himself, "Great Mother! It's been over four months since I've heard from anyone on the ship!"

But, he does not fret long. He knows that his friend, Frank, would not leave him.

They must be having trouble getting the supplies they need to get the ship moving. Besides, Daeus and Gvoudzon had let him know the situation...that the Harrier had been ransacked...that Councelor Momi restricted the crew's access on Pysadi to everything but the starport.

They are all probably holed up there, just as much a prisoner as I am. Except, of course, their cell was a bit bigger than Gyr's--they've got the whole starport to run around in.

Then, a thought occurred to Gyr. What if something has happened to Frank and the Captain on Aramis? What if Eneri wasn't too happy about them coming to see him?

If something had happened...most likely to the Captain...they could be trying to locate another engineer. They couldn't take off without one...

Nooo, Gyr thought. He must push that idea out of his mind. Nothing had happened to Praygor...nor Gyr's best friend. The others might leave Gyr here in this theological nightmare, but Frank never would.

Gyr decided that he will just have to sit here and bide his time. Frank would come. The Rock had probably already worked something out with Eneri...got a brick of cash...was probably waiting on a shit load of weapons before he came to break him out.

If he stayed right here, Gyr thought, his crewmates will have a damn good shot at it. Hell, even if they don't have any weapons, they can probably break me out. The Pysadians rarely carry weapons anyway.

Gyr wondered why the Salvors hadn't moved him yet. At first, he thought it was because Councilor Momi didn't want him moved with the crew still on planet. Gyr speculated that Momi didn't want to take the risk--the Councilor was probably waiting for the Harrier to lift off.

Momi might be a bastard, but he was a smart bastard.

Gyr had heard the guards talking about the prison in Sadi. It sounded like a pretty tight facility, even by TL 4 standards. So, Gyr wished the crew would hurry up and do something while the picking was good.

Breaking me out of this building is going to be as hard as passing a hot knife through Pysadian butter. But, if they waited until he was transferred to Sadi, it sounded to Gyr like the job will be a whole lot harder.

If the Pysadians try to move me, I'll try a break out on my own. It was finally spring now, and Gyr wouldn't have to contend with the freezing temperatures. He'd try to make it to the starport and see what he could see. If he made it that far--halfway across the planet--maybe he could get Bill to help him.

But, then, Gyr thought again. They were pretty high on these anolas here on this backwater world. The little critters came when they wanted. They left when they wanted. Basically, they just about did anything they damn well pleased.

The things had taken somewhat of a liking to Gyr. It was not as much--or as loving--as it had been towards Glynn, but the Pysadians definitely caught on to it.

And, Gyr started to think. This must be why they haven't moved me yet. Yes! It was clear now. He remembered from the Pysadian religious writings.

I haven't been moved because of the anolas!

As long as they were around him, the Salvors would keep him right here. If they lost interest in him, he would surely be moved to the facility in Sadi.

Well, I'll just keep the damned things entertained!

Something scuffed the outside of Gyr's door. It was one of the guards taking the wax out of the key hole. A metal clinck was made by the key turning the lock. Gori, one of the six Salvors here in Itzeny, stepped in with Gyr's mid-morning snack.

They fed him very well here.

"Ahhh. Good morning Mr. Gyr!"

"Yes, good morning Mr. Gori. Blessed be Mother Pysadi!"

"Ahhh, yes, Mr. Gyr, blessed be indeed." Gori sat Gyr's brunch down on one of the locker cabinets in the room. It was delicious looking, as usual, and today it was what Gyr called "trake cocktail with babaloa juice". Gyr had tried the sky melon and found it somewhat strong. He told Gori about it, and, sure enough, his "trake cocktail" was now missing the sky melon pieces.

"Gori, I am so glad that I have had an opportunity to read these scriptures." Gyr said, holding up his copy of the Pysadian Petra, their holy book.

"I might say, if I may, Mr. Gyr," Gori responded, "that indeed you are blessed." Motioning to the anolas picking at Gyr's food (which Gyr had learned to let them do and eat after them), he continued, "The children of Pysadi are never wrong in discovering a good heart."

"I cannot wait," Gyr took the opportunity to probe, try and find out information (he did this periodically), "until the Great Mother smiles down on me, opens the gates, and lets me wonder at the lands of holy Pysadi. I cannot wait for the next 8 months to pass."

Gori smiled, but he realized his friend-brother, if you will--did not understand. "Mr. Gyr. You are an offworlder. You have been sentenced to one year."

"Yes, I understand!" Gyr's eyebrows arched up. "And, it is the best experience of my life! Sometimes we offworlders do not stop in our frantic lives to acknowledge the really important things. If I had not been sentenced, surely my eyes would not have been opened!"

Gori's head shook. "Yes. This is true, Mr. Gyr. You are truly blessed, and Pysadi's children have shown you the way."

Gyr agreed. "Had it not been for the sacred children--you are right. I believe that it was their plan. They showed me, and blessed Glynn, but I refused to see. So, they made it so I would be forced to see, and I will be forever in their debt."

"As are we all, Mr. Gyr. But, I fear you do not understand what I have said."

Gyr feigned over curiosity. I can't wait to get off this fucking planet! I've had enough of this 'blessed be' shit! "Please...explain, brother."

"Yes, I will." Gori held up one stiff finger in the air as he spoke. "Living, as you did in space, you are used to the Imperial standard of time--the standard hour, the standard day, the standard week, no?"

Oh shit. Gyr knew where this was going. He was kicking himself for not realizing it four months ago. "This is true, brother Gori."

"...and, the standard year, Mr. Gyr," Gori finished. "But, you are now a child of Pysadi. You are sentenced to serve out one of Mother Pysadi's years."

Gyr mustered all of the happy emotion he could find. There was none left. It was hard for Gyr to even feign joy. "As it should be, Gori. All the better for me."

"Ahh, this is so." Gori bowed, with his fingers locked together, "Blessed be Mother Pysadi, Mr. Gyr."

Gyr bowed in return, "Yes, Mr. Gori. Blessed be."

The door closed behind Gori. Gyr waited for the metallic clink of the key--the replacing of the wax that kept out this planet's damned tainted air.

He looked over at his food-the pile of scattered fruit the anolas had just about devoured. The rest of it, they were throwing at the far wall, making colorful splatters. They watched curiously as the fruit stuck for a moment, then plopped to the floor.

It was all safe. Gyr moved to one of the beds across the room. He slid it out and looked at the scratches-the scratches he had made every day on the wall ever since they put him in here.

Then, he dug underneath the mattress for the piece of cobble stone that he had unearthed from the floor under one of the locker cabinets. Taking the sharpened stone, he scribbled through the sticks he'd been drawing on the wall to keep track of time, effectively making them unreadable.

Frustrated, he used the wall to do some quick calculations. Damn. I wish I had thought of the time difference before.

The Pysadian year is 2.69 standard years long. He had served four standard months. What he thought was one third of his sentence was clearly not. The Pysadian year is just under 33 standard months long! I've served less than ten percent of my sentence-and I've got 29 fucking months to go!

Shit!

He sat back on the bed, defeated. Air escaped from his lungs, and he dropped his face into his hands, then rubbed his temples. He just noticed that he had a headache.

As a matter of fact, he was getting a lot of headaches lately. I sure wish to hell the crew would get their act together and get their butts down here to rescue me. Shit! How long do I have to wait!

Gyr looked up at the wall as another piece of fruit zoomed by his head. He didn't know how much longer he was going to be able to take this.

But then, one of the anolas stood straight. It looked like it was listening to something. Then, a high pitched growl emanated from its throat.

Gyr cocked an ear. He could hear commotion too....