KORDA

Chapter Three

When we boarded, the trolley had been almost as deserted as the streets of Ingram, but had picked up more and more passengers as we progressed. It was quite full now. There was one other man on board, and he had two women guarding him (just as I did). We'd picked up box lunches between trolleys and now we had unwrapped them and were enjoying the local equivalents of pickled boar on a bed of barley, sweet and sour kale and plantain ice cream. We had bottles of plain water to drink; water on Korda always had been good and at least that hadn't changed. I was feeling rested and the food bolstered my energy; I was thinking clearly again, apart from a somewhat irrational regret that I hadn't been able to dance longer and an even less sensible desire to play a real live game of batona.

The trolley was approaching its last stop, at Sabu Harbor. It was more of a hovering one-car train than a trolley, I thought to myself; that didn't matter. What mattered was whether we could catch a trolley directly to Ingram at the harbor. At least, that's what I thought mattered. The driver called out the stop as we arrived but didn't open the doors. Some passengers were already standing up, grabbing their bags and lining up by the back door; a number of them had transfers (like ours) prominently in hand and one or two held larger tickets: for the ship, I assumed. The two women who had the man in tow stood by the front door and in their hands, I realized with a shock, were not tickets but tenderizers; their man had one too, aimed right at me. I flinched so violently that Tegan and Nyssa reacted to me and followed my sightline to the front of the trolley, where the driver, similarly armed, was grinning.

"Don't panic," I said, feeling pretty panicky. I smiled inanely at the man with the tenderizer. He rolled his eyes and kept the weapon trained on me. The first standing people to turn toward the front saw what was going on and screamed, which made the others turn and scream.

'Shut up!" yelled one of the armed women. She had to repeat it twice before the trolley was quiet but she didn't shoot anyone.

"You," said the man. "Come here."

I stood up. "Don't panic," I repeated in a whisper to Tegan and Nyssa, who were huddled together, but not, as they may have looked, paralyzed by fear. I knew I could count on them but I also knew that circumstances were sometimes insurmountable. They would do their best and so would I. Would it be enough?

"Now!" screamed the man and I slowly went to him. "Sit here," he said, softly but fiercely, and he might as well have been screaming. I sat there. "Why do you still have your hair?" That's when I noticed that he still had his.

"I don't know," I said.

I guess he didn't like my answer; he swung the weapon at me but stopped shy of my face. He laughed at how I put my hands up to defend myself. It was an involuntary gesture on my part; I was barely aware of doing so. As soon as my hands dropped away from my face he hit me, so gently. I lowered my eyes. Message received.

Nyssa and Tegan were not the only witnesses who gasped when the man swung his tenderizer. I was the center of attention. I wanted to warn them not to call attention to themselves by protesting or indeed further associating with me at all. If only we'd had time to concoct a cover story – but then, we still weren't familiar enough with the new Kordan culture to be sure that anything we devised wouldn't get us into even hotter water.

The driver opened the front door and the man and one of his companions marched me out. It was evening now, still not dark but darkening, and chilly. There was a massive liner in the harbor, all its lights on and twinkling invitingly, but I was hustled past the ramp to a darker area of the dock, where something that much resembled a vaporetto awaited us. Trying to run away would have been insane; I had no chance of success with both of them armed with tenderizers, and if I did succeed, I would doubtless find myself on the auction block trying to make a good impression in order not to be "disposed of" if I remained unsold. I had no choice. I allowed myself to be shoved so roughly onto the boat that I fell on my face. My captors hopped aboard. The woman stepped over me and crossed the vessel; she was the pilot. The man sat down and watched me roll over and sit up, facing him with my head against one of the seats, looking up at his open amusement. I could take him, I thought. I could figuratively disarm him with docility and then literally disarm him. I should do it before we get too far from shore for me to swim back.

We already were out too far.

I flashed him the stupidest smile ever. He threw his head back and laughed, then said "Oof" as I grabbed the tenderizer, simultaneously jerking it to one side and pushing its butt into his stomach. I pulled the weapon out of his hands and half crawled, half rolled to the gunwale, hurling the tenderizer overboard and then myself. "Turn around!" screamed the man to the pilot, as I swam for my life. It was dark now and I could only hope I was swimming toward the shore and not out to sea. Worse, it was cold. I was half-frozen before I was fully in the water. For an instant I thought I had been tenderized again.

Trying to orient myself in the darkness was nearly impossible except in relation to the boat I'd just escaped but as I put more distance between us I realized that it was between me and the brightly lit vessel we'd passed on foot. I had to turn around and swim toward my captors and past them to get to shore… unless the ship had already begun to sail. No, that was impossible. Not enough time had passed. The vaporetto was coming at me and I needed to be on the other side of it.

It's not easy to dive and do math at the same time; I hoped that such a small boat would have a keel no more than three yards deep but I also hoped I could dive, stay down and not be sliced in two for as long as the boat would be above me. I didn't feel at all secure about that but even less secure about my chances of going around. I dove.

I went as far down as I dared and still the keel came within inches of me. I desperately needed to breathe and the passage of the vaporetto above me seemed to take hours, years. At last I was clear to surface and did so, gasping, spinning until I could see the lights of the liner. I headed toward it, trying to convince myself I could make it even though my lungs were protesting otherwise.

When I reached the shore, some distance from the docks, and lay gasping on the rocky beach, I pondered my own foolishness. The little vaporetto could never have made it across the sea. It must have been heading around the coast to a different dock, perhaps to connect with a seafaring craft. Now I was in the same position I'd have been in had I tried to escape right away, except I wouldn't be cold, soaking wet and half drowned. On top of that, my captors would have turned around by now and it wouldn't take a brain surgeon to figure out the best place to recover their errant merchandise. I obviously couldn't return to the station and yet how else was I to find Nyssa and Tegan?.

My first order of business had to be to get off the beach, move inland, avoid immediate recapture. I stood up and ran, somewhat hunched over to make myself less of a target, up to the small boardwalk, across it and down to a wooded area, where I sat on a tree stump for several minutes to catch my breath. At the other end of the woods was a dirt road. Against my better judgment I followed it back toward the station. The road was anything but straight and I was not familiar enough with Korda's skies to use stars to guide myself; I hoped I wasn't wandering in a loop. Eventually, though, the dirt road became slightly wider, paved, lined first by open fields (not such good hiding places as woods, to be sure) and then little houses, mismatched in style but all set close to one another. More than once the sound of an approaching vehicle impelled me to scoot between two houses, hunker down and hope I hadn't been spotted.

I didn't exactly overshoot; one house had a wing that wasn't the whole depth of the house, as it let out onto a small patio, and I found myself in the back yard. There were sliding glass doors between the patio and the wing, and, feeling pretty well exposed, I turned to get back between this house and the next, but a movement caught my eye. I shrank against the tiny bit of wall that wasn't glass, not sure whether to run or defend myself because I couldn't tell how close my enemy was. Then I choked back a laugh: my enemy was a clothesline full of sheets, towels, clearly female underclothes and dresses dancing in the same breeze that was making me shiver almost as wildly as the flapping laundry.

I sneaked a peek through the glass doors. The lights were on but I could see that no one was in the room. I ducked under the clothesline and examined it from behind the sheets. I felt silly, standing there smiling as broadly as I was.

I walked the rest of the way to the station right down the middle of the road, my wet clothing tied up in a sheet, until traffic became an issue, at which point there was a pavement. Tegan would know better how to describe my attire; I can tell you it was blue. I was pleased to be wearing anything dry. (My plimsolls persisted in being cold and soaked, and they squelched as I walked.) I can say my sleeves came down below my elbows in a little ruffle, and the skirt, also ruffled at the hem, reached a couple inches below my knees. My neckline was modest. Maybe I was overdressed for my socioeconomic class, as my hair, not short enough to call attention to itself even on a woman on Earth, was short for a woman in an economy based on hair. On the other hand, it wasn't as short as Tegan's. If that had been my biggest worry I'd have been thrilled.

As I approached the station my worries multiplied quickly. There was no trolley and there was no one waiting for a trolley. There was no sign of my friends, no sign of the trolleyjackers and no sign of anyone looking for me.

I wanted to ask the cosmetologist when the next trolley was expected but she wasn't there, day having broken less than half an hour ago. The station was still locked up. I thought it might be some time before service resumed, and would have waited, but when I checked the schedule board outside by the track I found that service had been suspended indefinitely. This was alarming. I looked around and saw no one. Even the liner had gone. If Nyssa and Tegan were on that ship, I would never find them. I sat down on one of the platform's three benches and realized that, apart from a few minutes panting on a tree stump, I had been walking all night. How weary I was! I felt I wasn't thinking properly and I was more apprehensive about that than of actually being caught. That in itself was evidence that I wasn't thinking properly.

A woman in shocking pink trousers, wearing an orange backpack crossed the track seemingly from nowhere (at least I hadn't seen her even though my gaze had been fixed loosely on where she must have been moments before she crossed). As I realized she was pulling off her backpack as she rapidly approached me, her eyes never leaving mine, I stood up, moved away from the bench and backed up against the stucco wall of the station, raising my hands to about ear level.

"Hello," I said, "I'm…." Before I could finish introducing myself, the woman had pulled from her backpack not a weapon but a wig, and slapped it onto my head. Long, silky poker-straight yellow hair now flowed nearly to my waist. That was startling enough but she immediately secured that with a blue headband that pinched. Slipping her backpack on again, she stood back to admire the effect, including whatever my face was doing, as I had seriously expected to have mere seconds to talk her out of murdering me.

"It won't get you far," she said, "but it might get you far enough."

"Which way is "far enough?" I asked. She laughed but stopped abruptly as she realized I wasn't joking.

"Oh my." She sat down so I sat back down next to her and wondered what she saw as she studied my face. "We don't get many off-world visitors."
"I can't imagine why."

She grimaced. "I know." She stood back up. "Come on, then."

I followed her across the track and down the road, then onto a bare little dirt lane and finally up an old, cracked driveway, into the anteroom of her bungalow. The woman unceremonious stooped down, lifted my left leg so that I fell against the door, pulled off my sopping trainer and sock, let go of my left foot and repeated the procedure with my right. Barefoot and feeling better already, I followed her into the living room and sat where she indicated: a lovely orange floral padded rocking chair in front of a hearth, where she dropped my shoes and socks to dry, laying my soaked clothing out as well. I stretched my feet out to warm them. Then I sat up straight. "Do you know what happened at the station last night?" She nodded. "What happened to all those people?"

"You were one of them," she said, matter-of-factly. "You were the first one taken. Yet here you are."

"I got away."

"How?" I told her. "Wow."

"So where did they all go? Are they okay? What happened to the trolleyjackers?" The woman laughed at that label.

"First let me stop being rude. My name is Selena. I think you were about to give me a false name when we met. You may still."

"No, I hadn't actually chosen one yet. I am known as the Doctor."

"Okay, Doctor," she said. "Let's choose you an alias."

"I am open to suggestion." I tried to be patient; she knew what I wanted to hear.

"Hmm," she murmured. "How about… Goldie?" I was amenable to that. "All right." She cleared her throat. "I was on that trolley."

I was still silently trying "Goldie" out on my tongue. I stopped and stared at Selena.

"After those two spirited you away, they trimmed us all, took jewelry from anyone who had any – not me – and let us go."

"All of you?"

"Most of us. Many of us live around here and were coming home from work or whatever. A few were on their way to Other. They did take two women." I must have looked as alarmed as I felt because she added, "Not the two with you."

Relieved, I asked, "Other?"

"Across the sea."

"Ah, the other continent. It's called Other?"

"Yes. And the two you were with – your owners?" I didn't answer right away. "They'll be looking for you, then. And the guy who took you. He's in big trouble. You're not, other than the usual of course. I assume you want out?"

"Out?"

"Your freedom. I can get you to Other. The voyage itself is a bit dangerous as the ships are all registered here, so technically you're still here until you leave the ship. Once you set foot on Other, you'd be free."

"No, I can't," I said quickly. "They're not my owners. We're pretending, for my safety, but they're my friends. In fact, I'm responsible for them. Do you know where they are? I really need to find them." My own emotions surprised me and I stopped to collect myself. I'm just tired, I thought to myself. That's all it is. "We have to get back to Ingram. We have a ship there."

"A ship… oh, I see, you mean a… yes, they're from off-world too. I mean… they are, aren't they?"

"Yes," I assured her. "Nyssa is from Traken. Well, it no longer exists. Tegan is human, from Earth… Earth in the past. We don't just travel in space. We travel in time."

It was Selena's turn to be speechless.

"Please," I said, softly. "Tell me how to find them."

Selena told me that the passengers who had transfers were met by an express trolley to Ingram and allowed to board. Nyssa and Tegan had doubtless found themselves in a pickle, as they'd had no opportunity to discard their transfers. Holding transfers and not using them would have seemed suspicious so they boarded the trolley, which took off without incident. There were only three express stations between Sabu and Ingram so, barring further disaster, my friends either got off at one of the three and tried to double back and find me, or they decided to find the TARDIS in Ingram and wait there for me. I hoped they'd chosen the latter of course but I knew them too well to think they'd done so; my brave friends were going to get themselves lost or worse, trying to rescue me. There was no longer any service to or from Sabu.

"And the attackers are at large?" I asked. I assumed the ones who'd nabbed me were. "The two who stayed on the trolley are at large?

Selena nodded. "They took four passengers with them, probably to another boat, definitely not onto the ship." She left the room briefly and returned with a blue backpack. She neatly folded my now-dry clothing, and the sheet, which also didn't belong to me, and packed them. She felt my plimsolls: still damp. She moved them an inch or two closer to the fire. "I don't think I have anything for your feet," she sighed. "Shoes go fast." She looked up at me. "No one has identified them, nor found them. It looks as if they're going to get away with it."

"Well, as for my friends, is there a way to find out who got off at what stop, seeing how there are only three before Ingram? Does anyone keep records? Is there security video?"

"Are you kidding? We don't even have a police force." I must have looked astonished, because she added, "Read a little Earth history and you'll understand why."

"I've lived a lot of Earth history. I get it."

"It used to be nice here," Selena sighed.

"I remember your planet quite fondly." Upon her quizzical glance, I reminded her, "Time traveler. Also not as young as I look. I don't mind damp shoes. We need to find my friends."