Destroying Worlds

A cold wind was starting to get up, blowing dust and dirtier things into the faces of men who were still heading away from the market halls on foot or horseback.

Most moved in states of profit or tears or inebriation, or some combination of the three. But one, at least, was moving wholly with intent and target. Ignoring the cold and the wind and the dust, he focused solely on the flashing arrow of the tracking device in his hands.

The only thing to distract him, and only for a few seconds, was the roar of a spacejet about five miles behind as some Lord, or maybe a rich foreign trader, belatedly departed the scene of the day's business. A moment's thought told the man it would not be his own Lord leaving him behind on this miserable planet. Lord Crosland was a caring Lord who would never just abandon his dependents - trained bodyguards cost money.

He would not be abandoned without warning.

A gleam of light from another direction told him the sun was setting. Night was the time of danger on the planet of Boston, so they said. Lord Crosland had carefully explained how insignificantly small were the statistical odds of being attacked by Jorel Kable's terrorists when only visiting the planet. But the bodyguard could not forget the rumours that abounded in the silence emanating from the Barbican Broadcasting Commission.

It was partly his own fault he was still there. He had never dreamt the little monster would run so far, when he pretended to turn his back as they stood by the gate, and it had grabbed its 'last' chance to run 'home'. But the signal was very strong now. Soon he would find it, and take it back. Then it would pay for this.

With interest.

***

"My Lord Crosland."

The Lord of the Second Rank acknowledged his pilot's call without looking up from the screen on which he was doing his tax accounts for the day's business.

"Wilson is back aboard, sir, with your missing purchase. Permission to call in the perimeter guards, and launch?"

"Permission granted. But first send Wilson - and the girl - straight here."

"My Lord."

Lord Crosland ordered the screen to pause, and his chair to a more upright posture, more central in the room. It was a point of principle with Crosland that he did not put off unpleasant duties, nor treat them casually.

Wilson arrived quickly, as if trying to atone for delaying them so long. The bodyguard dragged the recaptured seven-year-old in by her hair, so her crying was all too clearly with genuine pain - a pain partly due to Crosland's own misjudging of Wilson.

And Crosland was legally accountable for cruelty inflicted by his bodyguard.

"Let her go," he ordered quietly.

Wilson obeyed, and the child crumpled to the floor, sobbing quietly, and visibly shivering.

Must warm her up, Crosland thought. So he startled Wilson by standing up, picking a drape off his own couch, and wrapping it round the girl. Then he picked her up and settled back, nestling her in his lap.

She opened her eyes wide to look up at him, confusion mixing with the fear on her face.

"Now, now, my dear," he soothed gently. "There's nothing to fear. I know you're cold, but you'll be warm very soon. Wonderfully warm. If you're a good little girl, and do only what you're told for the rest of your life, I promise you'll never be cold again. I'm your Lord now, so your welfare is my responsibility. You're in my care because you're in my service, and I'll always do what is best for you."

She seemed a little calmer, but murmured something about wanting her mummy. Natural enough. One of the things which had attracted Crosland to bidding for her at the child auction in the first place had been the way she had tried to cling onto her mother's skirts, before being carried away to the auction block while the mother was being dragged away by a husband or other owner.

Such natural capacity for affection and loyalty in dependents was always good to see. It made them less likely to develop delinquent thinking.

"I know you miss your mother, my little - Heidi," he continued patiently. "Isn't that your name? I thought so. I like it. You may keep it. As I was saying, I know you miss your mother, and I'm sure she misses you. But your father can't afford to keep you any longer. You aren't one of the first two children for whom our Social Welfare Ministry will pay until they are adult, and you're now seven years of age, when Social Welfare payments cease, so your parents owed it to you to sell you to someone who could afford to care for you properly. As I can, and will. As I promise you I will."

He adjusted her on his lap and stroked her hair, and she did not seem bothered by physical contact, which was encouraging in a girl.

"As long as you remain in my service," Crosland continued, "and are a good girl, you'll always be warm, and properly fed, and have the best of health care. Your parents couldn't possibly afford to care for you as well as I can. I'll not only care for you, but teach you to be a good citizen of the Tasman System. So, if you should become the property of another Lord, he will find you as useful a dependent as I've made you, and care for you almost as well as I will."

The girl was calmer now. Wilson was fidgeting instead, reminding Crosland that he still had one unpleasant duty.

"So it is for your own good, my dear little Heidi," he added gently, "that you must now be punished. If you are to fit in our System, you must learn that running away, or any other failure to submit to the will of your Lord, is naughty. For your own good, you must learn that all naughty behaviour must invariably earn a just and proper punishment."

The girl looked more puzzled than alarmed. Crosland was not sure if he was explaining it very well.

"For we must all conform to the rules of our System," he tried again, "and know our place in it, or our System will be torn apart and fall. Your place in our System is to be personal maidservant to the new wife I've just purchased. You see what a lucky little girl you are, Heidi! Many aspire to such a comfortable life, but few are chosen. Angel wanted a young child to train up her way, so you are privileged. But privileges can be taken away from little girls if they're naughty. And punishment can replace them."

Crosland looked away from Heidi, changing his kind face for his commanding face, and Wilson reacted to the look by stepping forward immediately. The smug leer on the bodyguard's face was final confirmation for Crosland, and provoked the Lord to real anger.

"Get Wang in," Crosland snapped. "He is just outside."

Wilson obeyed, looking surprised. The girl wriggled feebly in Crosland's grip, but was no longer shivering.

Wang hurried in, sparing Wilson a malicious glance.

"Take little Heidi, Wang," Crosland directed. "The next room will do. Two only, and not hard. Then take her to the health machine for instant repair."