Captive - Cheryl Brooks Page 0,48

it seems.”

Moe couldn’t fault her skepticism, but this stuff was doable. With a little publicity on other worlds, there would be people willing to invest in Haedus Nine’s future even more than its demise. He might even throw in a few credits himself.

“Yes, I have,” he said with renewed enthusiasm. “I’ve seen devices that can extract moisture from the air and turn it into drinking water. Chemical reactions that can create water where none existed before. Those reactions are difficult to control, but not impossible. Greenhouses could be built to retain moisture for growing food. Water was stolen from this world. Therefore, it can be replaced. Other worlds might be willing to donate. But to do that, they have to know the problem exists. Most people, myself included, probably assume Haedus Nine’s climate has always been like this. If it was changed once, it can be changed again.”

Klara stared at him with what he hoped was open-mouthed admiration rather than frank dismay. “You make it sound so simple.”

“Not really,” he said. “It’ll take lots of cash, hard work, and determination. I’m guessing Pelarus has tons of money. If we can take him down and confiscate his assets, we’ll have plenty to get started with.” Sensing that he almost had her convinced, he leaned forward and fixed his earnest gaze on Velkma’s desiccated face. “Listen, Rutger Grekkor’s wealth has enabled the remaining Zetithians to flourish. Pelarus’s money can do the same for the inhabitants of this region, perhaps even the entire planet. All we have to do now is start a revolution. Once Pelarus is overthrown, we can make plans for Haedus Nine’s rebirth.”

Chapter 13

Temfilk slapped his hands on the table. “So, Pelarus first, environment second, right?”

“That’s about the size of it,” Moe said, noting that any mention of lunch or dinner was omitted. “The sooner we start, the better.”

The tallest of the other four Haedusian women stepped forward. “You are giving us hope where there previously was none. Even if it is false hope, it is better than no hope at all.”

“It isn’t false,” he assured her. “Your lives truly can be better.”

She drew herself up to her full height, which wasn’t much more than a Norludian’s. “I am Yirland. You have my full support, and that of my family.”

Moe had no idea what this level of support entailed, but he wasn’t about to dismiss it out of hand. “Thank you very much, Yirland. We’ll need all the help we can get to pull this off.”

“Her support is considerable,” Velkma said with a wry smile. “She is related to many of the remaining members of the governing class.”

The fact that she’d referred to them as “remaining members” suggested that their numbers were comparatively few. Still, their help would be better than no help at all. On the other hand, the mention of a “class” suggested a less than egalitarian society. He chose his words with care. “You have class distinctions here?”

Yirland’s bark of laughter lacked any trace of mirth. “Not any longer. Living under Pelarus’s rule has made certain of that. My family has no more wealth or influence than any other. It is, however, quite extensive, harking back to a time when such connections were greatly coveted.”

Temfilk smacked his fish-like lips. “A woman with connections. Sounds good to me!”

“Connections are great,” Klara said cautiously. “What we really need is a plan.”

“How organized is your family?” Moe asked Yirland. “Rapid communication is vital, but it also needs to be secretive.”

Yirland directed a knowing glance toward her companions. “Necessity has already created a women’s underground network. Messages can be passed among us quickly and quietly, and every member is trusted.” She nodded toward Moe. “As are you.”

With very little in the way of technology, Moe was fascinated to discover their method, especially as it pertained to him. “And how would you know that?”

“That cloth tied to your hair is a signal flag to those of us who know what it means,” Yirland replied. “Gray is the color of a trusted comrade.”

He held up the end of a braid. “You mean this? I snatched it off a clothesline and used it to braid my hair as a disguise. Not much of one, I grant you, but it was the best I could come up with at the time.”

Yirland’s brow rose ever so slightly, as did one corner of her mouth, giving her an expression of amused tolerance. “That was undoubtedly taken from a member of our network. It was hanging there as