7. Friendship and Gold-2
1337 Words
“I canna walk through metal, and, yes, tis made from metal. The metal twas manufactured on another world perhaps three hundred years or more ago by another race of beings called the Justines.”
“Your people didn"t make that? What did you do? Take it from them?”
“Nay exactly, Herman. My people do not have the ability to build this Golden One. I twas aboard this ship when it came here looking for another Justine. A mob in Ireland killed the navigator. He twas a relative of the missing Justine named Toma. I twas left with the ship. I canna fly it back to their land or mine. I dinna have the training or kenning to pilot through the stars.”
Golden OneRolfe closed his eyes and shook his head as though trying to clear it. “You know what, Mac, I think I"ll wait right here.”
MacDonald started to ask him if he would be all right, but decided against it. That would be an insult and right now his friend did not need an insult to his bravery.
“It twill take a few minutes.”
He returned to the Golden One and laid his hand on the correct panel. It slid back into the frame and a ramp extended downward. MacDonald left the panel open, although in normal circumstances he would have closed it. He hurried to the lift and ascended to the third level to access Ricca"s quarters.
Golden OneThe bluish glow from the walls and floors were a familiar, comforting emanation. His biggest regret was the fact that he would need to hurry and there would nay be time to take a shower. How he longed to enter the cleansing room and feel the flow of warm, soapy water. It was impossible to take proper cleansings in this land, but Herman twas too upset for him to linger. He entered Ricca"s room and pulled the gold from the storage unit beneath the bed. Ricca had placed the gold in a box purchased in Denmark while they were there. The key remained in the lock. No Kreppie would have dared remove the gold while Ricca lived.
In Denmark, it had been fascinating to hear how rapidly Ricca could assimilate an alien language. A few words and he would grasp it. Llewellyn found it took him several days to master an alien tongue and he could nay erase his Thalian speech. His German was still heavily accented.
The box was heavy and he hoisted it to his shoulder as he began the trip back. Once outside the Golden One, he paused to close the panel before striding back to Rolfe. The box was beginning to bite into his shoulder and he hefted it to the other side.
Golden OneRolfe was leaning against the tunnel opening looking at the Golden One and him as he approached.
Golden One“Isn"t there anybody in there?”
“All are dead.”
“All? You said a mob in Ireland killed the man who navigated this thing and he owned the gold. Who else was there?”
MacDonald swallowed. He had made a verbal slip. The years with Rolfe had eroded the caution he used when speaking to most beings on this world.
“There twas a crew—six in all.”
“And what happened to them?”
“I twisted their heads off and buried them in space.”
Rolfe looked at him, his eyes still hard, but puzzled.
“Mac, I never knew you to be a violent man. You protect yourself and others, but you don"t kill for the fun of it. Why did you kill them?”
“We twere enemies. There had been a war between our worlds and there tis much bitterness. They would have killed me rather than take me back to their world. They twere a bit hampered as they could nay navigate the Golden One. I did nay want them loose on this world. They twould have tried to take over and rule it.”
Golden One“Six men take over this world? That"s crazy.”
“They twould have had the Golden One. Ye have nay idea of the fire power that exists in its weapons. They could have destroyed every civilization on this planet.”
Golden One“Can you still do that?”
“Why? I dinna wish to rule this world. I want to return home, but I canna do that. So since I must stay, I wish to stay here and own this land to keep the Golden One safe till I learn to navigate through the stars.”
Golden OneHe looked at Rolfe. “Did ye wish to see the gold here or above?”
The desire to flee showed in Rolfe"s face, but the desire to look, to touch real gold overcame his fears. He took a deep breath. “Here, Mac, if it looks all right, I"ll examine it more thoroughly in the sunlight.”
MacDonald set the box down, sat cross-legged, and unlocked it. Then he threw open the lid.
Rolfe sank down to his knees, his mouth open. “Gold,” he whispered. “Mein Gott, gold.” Somewhere in the back of his mind, he had rejected the idea that there would be any gold. People, no matter how advanced, could not produce gold. Alchemists had tried it and all had failed. He drew in his breath and ran his fingers across the top and picked up an ingot to examine it, turning it over and over. He did the same with another piece.
“There aren"t any marks.” He looked over at his friend.
MacDonald gave one of his half smiles. “I told ye, nay marks.”
Rolfe"s eyes were wide, an avid expression on his face at the sight of all that gold. It was as exciting as a fight.
“You can buy this land, Friend Mac.”
“Aye, that we can. Are ye satisfied?”
Rolfe took a deep breath to relieve the tightness in his chest. “Do we go partners or each of us own a ranch?”
“What do ye wish?”
“It"s better we each have our own land, and have our own brand for the cattle.”
“Brand? Oh, aye, the mark to tell the world they are our beasties. Does that need to be settled now?
“Yes, we will need to file that when we file the deeds. If we have it settled now, we won"t have to think about it.” Rolfe had forgotten he was deep within the earth. He had always prepared for any contingency. The only things you couldn"t control were weather, men bent on murder, or death.
“Do ye have a preference? I can think of nay right now.”
“It must be something that tells the world the cattle and horses belong to you.”
MacDonald grinned, a soft chortle coming from his mouth. “And what, Friend Rolfe, reminds ye of me?”
“A rearing grizzly.”
MacDonald rocked slightly backward and then forward. “Then what do ye think of the Rearing Bear Ranch?”
Rolfe grinned. “Good name, Mac. Now it"s your turn. What do you think of when you see me?”
“I think of a bowie knife.”
“I can"t name a ranch after a knife. Somebody might think Jim Bowie came back from the dead.”
“How about a knife s***h?”
“A brand is static. It doesn"t go anywhere except where the cow goes. I can"t show a s***h. It would be too easy to change.”
MacDonald slapped the lid back down and locked the box.
“All right, how about Crossing Blades?”
“That"ll work.” Rolfe grinned at MacDonald. “You know what, Friend Mac? We"re both crazy.”
- Writer
