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Prisoner Returned:
By Markus Thyme:
Previous episodes are in The Master’s Hand archive.
Twelve days after they began their journey, Bruce took the
Invader to the edge of the compound and pointed toward the buildings.
“Go and tell them we be men
of honor,” he told the Invader.
The invader stumbled out onto the green. A Marine guard saw
him and was about to fire on him when the captive just sat down on the grass.
He was exhausted from the twelve day trek. Then the
marine recognized that he was one of the Invaders. He looked up to the forest,
too late. Bruce was already out of sight in the shadows of the forest. The
Marine called for help and two men dragged the captive into the compound and
into the office of Major Kamil, the Officer of the Day.
“What in Karuk’s Subfire is this,” he
demanded.
“I know not sir, he just came wandering into the green,”
replied one of the Marines.
“Who in Subfire are you?” demanded Kamil.
The man stared blankly at the Major. He looked disoriented.
“Answer me man,” snapped Kamil.
“I — I — I be, a, a, I mean, I am Al
Ghraib, son of Lord Ghraib.”
“I know nothing of any lords. Where did you come from?
How did you get here.”
“I — I — came with Prince Zacarias.”
“What are you talking about? The Prince is
dead!” snapped Kamil.
“I know,” replied Ghraib softly. He looked down
at his feet as he spoke.
“How do you know? What is wrong with you? Speak up
man!”
Ghraib did not look up. “I was there. I saw,” he
whispered.
With those words, he sank to the floor and sat in a heap.
Kamil starred at him for a moment, then asked softly,
“What is wrong with you man?”
“I am exhausted. I have been pushed and shoved through
the forest for 12 days.”
“By who?”
“By the wild humans who captured me
when they slew my Prince and all his company, except me.”
Kamil leaned back in his chair. It was beginning to make
sense. The humans had made a prisoner exchange. He stroked his chin for a
moment, staring hard at Ghraib.
“I know not what to make of this,” he said.
“Watch him,” he told the Marine guards and strode from his office.
He went directly to the office of Fovea and knocked on the door.
“In!” barked Fovea.
Kamil came in and saluted smartly.
“What is it?” smiled Fovea.
“Sir, a strange thing. I have
a man in my office who claims to be Al Ghraib, a friend of Prince
Zacarias.”
“How could that be?” demanded Fovea.
“Sir, he claims he has been a captive of the humans.
He claims he survived when they slew the Prince and all his company.”
“Great Alloh,” roared Fovea. “This is just
what I needed, another hairball in my wine barrel.”
Kamil remained wisely silent.
“Well,” groaned Fovea, “I suppose we must
interrogate this man and find what he really is.”
“Sir,” said Kamil, “he is clearly
exhausted and confused. Perhaps he should rest for a day.”
“Exhausted and confused, you say? Kamil
that is the best time to interrogate a suspect.”
Kamil looked shocked for a moment, “suspect, sir?” He queried.
“Until I know who he really is and how he survived
when the Prince did not, I will consider him a possible traitor.”
“Oh,” said Kamil. “I see!”
“Let us go then.”
The two were crossing the compound when they encountered
“You may as well come along,” offer Fovea.
“We have a new development.”
“What development, sir?”
“It seems one of the Prince’s company survived
the crash, or so he claims. Just come along and we will learn the truth,”
said Fovea.
When they entered the office, Ghraib was still on the floor.
Fovea stared at him a moment, then said, “Put him in a
chair.”
Two marines lifted him from the floor and dragged him to a
chair. They sat him in it and he slumped there.
Fovea and Kamil sat down before him. As usual,
“Who are you?” demanded Fovea.
“I am Al Ghraib, son of Lord Ghraib.”
“Are you now?” sneered
Fovea. “And just how did you get here?”
“The wild humans brought me here,” mumbled
Ghraib.
“Really,” sneered Fovea. “I have a problem
believing that. Perhaps you should begin at the beginning and explain to me
just how you became allied with the humans.”
Ghraib’s head snapped up and his eyes opened large.
“I am not allied with the wild humans, sir. I was a
prisoner,” he gasped.
“A prisoner,” smiled Fovea. “How did that
come to pass? Take your time.”
“Please, I am exhausted,” pleaded Ghraib.
“I need food and rest.”
“And you shall have food and rest,” said Fovea,
“as soon as you tell your story. Just start at the beginning. You came
here with Prince Zacarias.”
Ghraib stared blankly at the Admiral.
“Come, come, Ghraib”
said Fovea. “I’m sure you remember. If not, I have some medical
people who would love to put some tunneling bugs in your ears. I have heard
those things do wonders for a man’s memory. It is said the sometimes get
right through into the brain”
Ghraib shudder, then he put up a brave front. “Sir, I
am an honorable person and the son of Lord Ghraib. How dare you threaten me. I demand your respect.”
Fovea’s face clouded over and he stood, towering above
Ghraib for a moment. Then he sat down again.
“Let us get clear on who you are and what you are
facing here, Ghraib. You need not threaten me with you father. I was one of the
tribunal who sat on his trial for embezzling from the exchequer. He was
fortunate to escape with his life. He was stripped of
his title, properties, and entitlements. He is no more lord than you are He
lives at the pleasure of the Emperor’s consort to act as her servant.
“As to you, you are a man of honor are you? What you
are young man, is a fop. You are the seed of a twisted tree. You were toady to
the Prince, but the Prince you say is dead. So, you
are not toady to the Prince. You are a suspect into the investigation of his
death. Even should you be exonerated, the Emperor may
not be pleased that his son died and you lived. Now begin again and tell me
very carefully all that you know. If I think for a moment you are lying to me,
I will call in the medical staff. Bear in mind that everyone thinks you are
already dead. Don’t force me to make that a reality.”
When Fovea finished, Ghraib was trembling. He began to speak
very softly, but clearly.
“We came on a wager. It was just a lark. We rode into
the wild country to hunt the wild humans. We came upon a group of them and
bagged several. Then on the Prince’s signal we
returned to the flyer.
“We were on board and the flyer was rising. I was
sitting in the open cargo door when a human rushed out of the forest and fired
a strange weapon at us. I had a firearm and I shot him. Then the flyer went
wild. I surmise that the human had somehow damaged one engine when he fired his
weapon.
“The flyer began to buck and pitch and I was thrown
from the door. I fell to the earth. I thought I would die. That is all I knew
until I awoke in a cave. I was being tended by a wild human.
I was there a long time. They cared for me and I learned to speak their way so
I could ask for what I needed. They moved me once to a different cave. Then, a while later, they brought me here. That is all I
know. May I rest now?” he pleaded.
Fovea said, “You may rest and eat now.”
He turned to Kamil, “Get him cleaned up and fed, then
le him sleep it off, but keep a close watch on him. For now, I have no choice
but to believe him.”
“Yes, sir, I believe he was too frightened to
lie,” smiled Kamil.
“Right you are, Major. That is the advantage of
interrogating a confused and exhausted prisoner.”
“Is he still a suspect, sir?”
“Until we know he is innocent, we must so consider
him, but treat him well. Who knows, his father may come back to power some
day.”
Kamil laughed.
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