"The fact that we're still eating," Jaime said. "And have been for almost a year. Where do you think our food has been coming from all this time?"
"Camp rumors. Wild stories ..."
"Nonsense! People have seen the Tolun," Dieter said, "delivering hovertrucks full of food, presumably from some fanning communities out there that didn't get smacked. The word is, they'll do anything for samples of advanced technology."
"Even if that's true, what does that get us?" Wal scratched his beard with savage intensity. "If the Tolun are working for the machines, they're not going to help us. And if they're not, what do we have to give them!**
"I'm willing to worry about that one when it's time, Colonel. Right now, we have to get out of this camp, and to do that we need Hector. This is our one chance to make a break. If we blow it now, weў"
"Psstl" Jack Haley, on watch at the doorway, hissed. "Condition red!"
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William H. Keith, Jr.
Conversation stopped. A moment later, a shadow fell across the opening of the hut. It was Dewar Sykes, standing in the doorway, conspicuously clad in jackboots, leather trousers, and a soft, ruffled green shirt. He slapped his shockstick against an open palm. "Right, then," he said, surveying the slaves inside. "What's this, some land of conspiracy? Get on out here in the light! All of you!"
The ragged line of slaves crawled out into the sunslight, blinking. Sykes made them stand in line, nudging them this way or that with prods from his truncheon. Another trusty, a narrow-eyed little weasel named Philbet, stood nearby with an unpleasant leer on his face. In the distance, Jaime saw, a single !"!*! floater hovered silently, watching the proceedings with a mix of human and glittering, crystalline eyes.
"You people should get more fresh air," Sykes told them. Reaching up, he rubbed absently at the silver band encircling his head. "Exercise, hard work, that's the ticket. How 'bout it, Philbet? Maybe an extra shift for these slimy little crollygogs?"
"Sounds like just the thing, Dewar."
Sykes reached out and touched Shari's chin with one hand, gently stroking her face. "Except... maybe we'll let this one off. I like her."
Shari jerked her head back beyond Sykes's reach. "Turner!" she spat. The epithet was reserved for those humans who'd sided with the machines, the trusties and turncoats and lickmetals who worked for the !*!*!,
"I think you'll spend the day with us, baby." His eyes narrowed. "I think we've had you before, haven't we? Yeah, I thought so. Real prime meat on the hoof." He grabbed her arm and yanked her out of line.
"Leave her alone!" Jaime rasped, taking a step forward.
Sykes whirled, the snarl forming on his lips melting into a grin. Reaching out mildly, he tapped the
BOLO RISING
79
business end of his shockstick twice against the angry red welt on Jaime's upper arm. "So? How's the arm, soldier boy? Tried taking on any more of the Masters recently?" The grin faded into something darker. "Maybe you'd like to take me on sometime, eh?"
Jaime saw the trap and pulled back. "No . . . sir."
It was all he could do to contain his seething hatred. Sykes and the other trusties, in Jaime's opinion, were the lowest, most detestable life forms in the camp or out of it. They'd betrayed their own species for the comfort and authority afforded camp guards. The name "trusty,*' dredged from the ancient history of human prisons and law enforcement, was more an ironic joke than a statement of fact.
Sykes leaned closer, peering curiously into Jaime's face. "What's the girl to you, Graham, eh?"
"Nothing. She's . .. she's been through a lot, lately. Give her a break, huh?"
"Oh, but I am, soldier boy! Best break possible!" He stabbed the end of the shockstick squarely against the center of Jaime's bare chest, pushing hard as he leaned forward with a wicked grin. "She gets the whole day offl Gets to have a real shower, get the mud off her skin and out of her hair. Why, she gets to be with me all day, tending to my, ah, personal needs, instead of crawling around on her pretty little knees in the mud, digging up corpses with her bare hands. Like youl"
