Trader's World Read Free Page A

the terminals and headset that put them into three-way communication with Daddy-O, Lyle Connery sat frowning on the other bunk.
    "We're ready to go home," he said, "but what are we going to do with him ? We can't put him back in the valley, living like that. You saw the food supply—he must have been scraping along close to starvation. Can we drop him off at one of the Hives?"-
    "If we can find out where he came from originally. Maybe he was abandoned, or maybe others will be coming back to the valley any time now. He'll be awake in a minute or two. I'll see what I can find. Why don't you get some food ready while I'm doing it? I think he's more scared of you."
    She remained quietly by the boy's side. He was alert and struggling as soon as his dark eyes opened. Lucia Asparian smiled at him, kept her voice soft, and said in Hiver local dialect, "Don't be afraid, we are not going to hurt you. What is your name?"
    He looked terrified, rolled his eyes sideways to try to follow the line of the terminals attached to his temples and throat, and clenched his teeth tight.
    Daddy-O's interrogation circuits back in the Azores caught the prisoner's brain patterns and the subvocalized word, and provided the local inputs to Lucia Asparian. "His name is Mikal," said the voice in her headset. There was a fraction of a second delay while the information passed through the Chipponese satellite relays, then Daddy-O added, "A high level of fear beyond what can be explained by his surroundings. I think he is disturbed by direct input. He understands Hiver, and it will be better if we restrict ourselves to that as his signal from you. But I will tap his visual and emotional codes, so that you can see his responses. He will be unaware of that operation."
    Lucia nodded. "Mikal," she said, and the boy's eyes bulged. "Mikal, do you have another name?"
    The jaw clenched tighter for a moment, then there was an imperceptible shake of his head.
    "He does not think of himself as having any other name," Daddy-O said. "If he ever lived in the Hives, he left there before puberty. That is their time for caste naming. There is no strong associated visual signal for your question."
    Lucia again tried to guess the age of the youth on the bunk. Certainly no less than ten, and probably no more than fifteen. "You live down there in the valley," she said. "Do other people live with you?"
    There was another imperceptible shake of the head.
    "They no longer live there," Daddy-O said. "One moment. We have visuals."
    A clear image of two people's faces appeared to Lucia, apparently hovering above the bunk. Daddy-O had a direct feed through her optic nerve. Both the people she was looking at were male. One of them was perhaps a couple of years older than Mikal, the other seemed to be in his late twenties.
    "Your two friends in the valley," Lucia asked. "What happened to them, Mikal? Where are they now? Are they hiding from us?"
    This time there was a gabble of Hiver words. "Why do you pretend you don't know? You took them, you destroyed them." And within a second came a sharp sequence of images: the side of the valley . . . six bulky figures with grotesquely enlarged and boxlike heads rushing down the steep slope . . . hand weapons at the ready. As they came closer Lucia saw that they wore protective Hive-armor. The "heads" were ribbed and padded helmets, with holes for eyes and mouth. As the scene ended, Mikal's two companions were seized and thrown to the ground.
    "Destroyed them." Mikal shivered, and closed his eyes.
    "Possible, but unlikely." Daddy-O's electronic voice in her ears was as calm as ever. "You know the customs of the larger Hives."
    Lucia reached forward and took her captive by the hand. "Mikal, we are not Hivers. Open your eyes, and take a good look at me, and see for yourself. Did you ever see a Hive warrior who looked anything like us?"
    The dark eyes opened. He stared hard at Lucia, and some of the fear drained from his expression. "No." His voice was