Sticks and Stones

Chapter Seven

Chapter SevenWhen she finally emerged from the tunnels into an underground vault, Mariko got halfway to her feet and collapsed.

She had no idea how far she'd crawled, but it felt like it had been miles. Her hands and knees were raw and throbbing; her neck and back ached fiercely. She felt like dirt caked every inch of her, even under her eyelids and uniform and skin.

It had not been an easy trip. Nalo had led her through one claustrophobic tunnel after another, traversing what had seemed like an endless network of intersecting passages. While the brown-furred Vox had scooted briskly along like a minnow through a coral maze, Mariko had struggled to keep up. Several times, she had been unable to wriggle through tight spaces, and he had had to dig her out.

Toward the end, Mariko had faded and fallen far behind, losing all sight of Nalo and his flashlight in the suffocating pitch black of the tunnel. She had had an awful moment there, wondering if she had been abandoned to die in the darkness, if Nalo had been an executioner and not a rescuer all along.

Marshaling what had felt like her last reserves of strength, she had managed to drag herself forward, eventually glimpsing the faint glow from the exit…but the weight of her ongoing ordeal finally crushed her when she reached the open space.

When she dropped to the dirt floor of the vault, not only did she not want to get up, she didn't think that she could.

Without a word, Nalo scooped her up and carried her into the chamber.

Through half-closed eyes, Mariko watched as other Vox approached them, chattering and gesturing excitedly. When the Vox bunched around them and pressed close, staring her in the face and touching her with clawed hands, Nalo snapped out a few words and the group backed away.

As Nalo carried her forward, Mariko weakly looked around. By the dim light of the glowing white moss that clung in patches to the walls and ceiling, she saw Vox at work in an underground camp – tinkering with electronic equipment, unloading containers, adjusting devices that looked to her a lot like weapons.

As she passed, the busy Vox stopped what they were doing and stared. Sometimes, they spoke to her, but always in the rush of buzzes, clicks, sign language and syllables that she couldn't understand.

One word did jump out at her, though. She heard it, clear as a bell, as Nalo gently lowered her onto some bedding on the ground.

Mazeesh.

Mariko glanced around at the staring onlookers but couldn't tell who had said it. After what had happened to her when she'd uttered that word just once, she wondered why any Vox would dare speak it aloud.

Unfortunately, the gag that locked her mouth shut made it impossible for her to ask questions, even if she hadn't been too shell-shocked to budge at that point.

Nalo filled a dipper with water from a nearby basin and carried it to her. Because of the gag, it was impossible for her to drink, but he tipped it into a cloth and used it to wipe some of the dirt from her face.

Mariko reached up and tugged with both hands at the sides of the gag, but it was fastened to her flesh. Wincing at Nalo, she pointed to the rubbery strip sealing her mouth, silently pleading with him to remove it.

The brown-furred Vox shook his head. "It is permanent," he said. "Never comes off."

Slowly, Mariko lowered her hands.

"Sorry," said Nalo, dabbing with the damp cloth at some of the claw marks visible through the torn sleeves of her uniform. "Sorry for your pain."

His apology was no comfort whatsoever. The latest bad news left her numb.

It is permanent. Never comes off.

A horrific new thought occurred to her. For the first time, she realized that the gag itself was a death sentence.

If it wouldn't come off, and she didn't receive intravenous nourishment, she would eventually die from lack of food and water.

Despite her escape, the Vox had insured that she would pay for her mistake with her life.

Nalo left for a moment to refresh the damp cloth, then returned and resumed cleaning her wounds. It stung when he touched the open cuts, but Mariko barely flinched; her thoughts were turned inward, focusing on despair and impending death.

She didn't even pay much attention when Nalo spoke, though her linguistically adept mind continued to translate his words as best she could. "You'll be safe here," he said. "Only a few know how to find this place."

Mariko stared up at a patch of the glowing white moss on the ceiling. "Safe" didn't really apply here, she wanted to tell him.

She wondered if he realized that by rescuing her from her cell, he had only prolonged the inevitable…and perhaps guaranteed that her end would be more painful and drawn-out than whatever execution the regent had planned for her. Neither dehydration nor starvation would be a merciful way to go.

"The word you said," said Nalo. "'Mazeesh.'"

Suddenly, Mariko's full attention returned to the brown-furred Vox. There was that word again; if it was so offensive and forbidden, why was he saying it?

"It is a name," said Nalo. He poked a finger at his chest. "For us. For all Vox."

Eyes narrowed and fixed on him, Mariko listened. There were other Vox nearby; why weren't they screaming in outrage and clawing him to shreds at the mere mention of that word?

"Once, 'mazeesh' meant beauty," said Nalo. "It was a beautiful flower."

Mariko's eyes widened.

It was what she had thought from the start, the sole reason she had used that word at all.

'Mazeesh' meant beauty.

She knew she had heard Nalo use it earlier in that sense. The problem was, if the meaning of the word had changed and it was no longer socially acceptable, why had Nalo used it at all?

"One day," he continued, "visitors came from the stars, like you. They hunted and killed us."

As he told the story, Mariko noticed that the camp around them had become conspicuously quiet. Earlier, it had been alive with the sounds of activity and Vox chatter; now, it seemed that everyone was hanging on Nalo's every word.

"Part of us, in here," said Nalo, tapping his skull, "They ate it. For fertility.

"It looks like the flower. The mazeesh. So they called us mazeesh."

There it was: the link between a word meaning "beauty" and a slur strong enough to spur a crowd to murderous rage…but Mariko still didn't understand why Nalo had used it out in the open, on a city street, with an unsuspecting visitor, when he obviously knew better.

"'Mazeesh,'" said Nalo. "It means 'prey.' It means 'food.' It means 'filth'…'property'…'lowest of the low.' It is the most hated word in the world.

"But that is about to change," said Nalo. "Thanks to you."

Mariko frowned.

Despite their differences in appearance, Nalo seemed to understand her facial expressions, at least a little. "Don't worry," he said. "The hard part's over."

Her frown deepened. As weak as she felt, she managed to prop herself up on her elbows.

"You broke the silence," said Nalo. "You are a symbol of free speech.

"We chose you well."

Mariko shook her head a little. She could not believe what she had heard…but every time she reviewed the translation in her mind, it came up the same.

We chose you well.

At that moment, she thought she would give anything to be able to talk again.

Suddenly, the day's events made perfect sense. Perfect, terrible sense.

All along, she had wondered how both she and the translator device could have made such an egregious mistake…how they could have mistranslated an outrageous slur as a word meaning "beauty." She had wondered why Nalo had used the word to begin with, if the penalty for speaking it aloud was so steep.

Now, it all fit into place.

In a way, it made her feel better. She had been beating herself up for making a mistake, had thought briefly that she deserved to be punished for failing so miserably…and all along, it had not been her fault.

She felt better…and angrier, too. Exhaustion and self-recrimination were replaced by rage burning coldly in her heart.

It all made perfect sense.

"You used the word just as we hoped," said Nalo, "when I gave it to you."

Finally, she understood. She had been used.

She had been set up.