The Narrow Path To War

by D L Frizzell

  Alex watched it float lazily in the air and remembered the old picture of the Celeste he saw in the garrison command center. Just as the spaceship's two hulls were held apart by unseen forces, the train also levitated above the canyon floor. Where the Celeste fueled his imagination, though, the maglev train showed him how much mankind had lost in the last five hundred years. As much as he looked forward to seeing the train during the trip from Celestial City, he now felt disappointed. Thinking there had to be more to the train than what he could see, he decided to look around the station.

  Alex's first thought was that there had to be some kind of power-producing mechanism holding the train up. He explored every part of the dusty station. It was as badly maintained as the train. Some of the rooms had doors with missing hinges, while others had no doors at all. He found most of the rooms in the station piled high with heavy ropes or nets, but found no evidence of a power generator.

  His next idea was to check the canyon itself. He doubted the secret of the train would be found there, either. When he walked out of the station to see, he was even more perplexed. It wasn't the proper canyon he thought he would find. Instead, it looked more like a dry riverbed that had been excavated to allow the train to fit through. Other than extending in a very straight line to the western horizon, it was no more remarkable than a ditch. Alex returned to the boardwalk to find Colonel Seneca going over notes on a clipboard.

  "Not happy with the train?" Seneca asked when he finally looked up from the clipboard.

  "It looks like one of Cale's science projects," Alex said flatly.

  "It's what you might call a cultivated appearance," Seneca replied. "Not everything is as it seems."

  A group of soldiers emerged from the station carrying a long wooden crate. Seneca motioned for them to carry it across the loading ramp onto the train. They hesitated.

  "What you waiting for?" a gravelly, heavily-accented voice called from the train. "We can't load trucks 'til masts are installed." A wrinkled old man with clothes dustier than the canyon emerged from a hold in the center train car. He wiped sap off his hands with a grimy rag, then shoved it in his shirt pocket. "Bring them on!" The soldiers watched the train pitch towards them when he walked to the railing. "It won't flip, you durks!" He scolded. "It more stable with masts, believe me."

  The soldiers looked at Seneca nervously. He gestured again for them to board the train. They obeyed, but proceeded slowly when their weight on the gang plank caused the train to dip more. "Durks!" the old man laughed at them. "Bring me crate."

  They sat it down on the middle of the deck and breathed a sigh of relief when the train righted itself again. The old man opened the crate and began extracting iron poles, separating different sizes and lengths into matching piles. When he was done, he picked up a thick pole from the first pile and stood it vertically. He grabbed one of the soldier's hands and wrapped his fingers around the pole. "Hold," he said. When he found a thinner pole with a notch on one end and a clamp on the other, he inserted the notch into the soldier’s pole and twisted it. They locked together. "There." He went to the third pile and retrieved a short pole which was thicker than the rest. He fed it into the clamp sideways at the end of the pole and tightened it down. "Looks like letter T," he nodded approvingly. "Yes?"

  The soldier shrugged.

  "Make rest like this one," the old man said. "Each car, three places. Front, middle, back." He pointed out holes in the deck where the masts would be inserted. "You get it? Good. When making is done, we can start the motor."

  The soldiers gave him blank looks.

  "Get making!" he flailed his arms to hurry them along, then marched off the train towards Seneca and Alex.

  "Hello, Genedi," Seneca smiled, and shook the old man's hand.

  "You told them the train okay, yes?" Genedi asked him. "They look scared."

  "Yes," Seneca answered. "They'll get used to it."

  "Mmm," Genedi mumbled in reply.

  "How does it work?" Alex asked.

  Genedi looked Alex over from head to toe. He leaned in to get a close look at his badge before answering. "Magic," he said. "You don't care otherwise, no?"

  "I do care," Alex said. "It's science, not magic."

  "It mine, so hands off," Genedi stated, closing the discussion. "He rides with us?" he asked Seneca.

  "He does," Seneca replied.

  "Hmm," Genedi said. "Quiet durks make better passengers."

  "His name is Alex," Seneca said. "He's no durk, and I think he'd be quiet if you show him the train."

  "Uhh?" Genedi replied. "Okay," he said "Follow, watch, don't touch."

  Alex nodded and followed him onto the train.

  Twenty minutes later, Alex was still baffled by the train's technology. He could see no correlation between the levitated cars and the canyon beneath them. It was simply a contradiction in reality. The steam engines, which Genedi had stoked to full power once all the masts were installed, had nothing to do with keeping the train aloft, but did stabilize it so that it didn't pitch anymore. When Alex asked to see the hold, Genedi refused, on account there was nothing there but his bed and things he didn't share with durks. Genedi left Alex alone on the bow and returned to the boardwalk to oversee the trucks being loaded. Seneca joined Alex and watched the activities proceeding.

  "Where does Genedi come from?" Alex asked.

  "The Titan Province," Seneca answered.

  "I never met anyone from there before," Alex said. "Are they all as strange as he is?"

  "He spent most of his life on the twilight side of the mountains," Seneca replied. "They're an isolated people. Since he came up to daylight, well, he's adjusted about as well as anyone could."

  "Why did he come here?" Alex asked.

  Seneca didn't answer.

  Alex shrugged. He bounced on his heels, feeling how the train responded, resulting in dirty looks from several nearby soldiers. "It feels like we're in a boat," he said.

  "The finest boat our marine engineers could build," Seneca replied.

  "We have marine engineers?"

  "No, Alex, we don't."

  Alex cracked the faintest hint of a smile.

  It took an hour to load the trucks and bring the horses onto the train. There were several unused sections at the rear, which were set up with benches and cots to accommodate the militia.

  Genedi boarded the train and approached Seneca. "Any time you ready, colonel."

  Seneca made a quick inspection of his soldiers' gear, making sure everything was lashed properly, then gave his approval to leave the station. One by one, the gangplanks were moved onto the boardwalk. Genedi cast off the ropes that kept the train from drifting. He fed some sap logs into the steam engine and got a plume of white smoke from the stovepipe in response.

  For no reason that Alex could fathom, Genedi rang a large bell above the steam engine. He put his ear next to a mast and closed his eyes. He muttered something unintelligible, then shouted, "Ha!" Genedi turned a crank, and the train began to creep forward. Alex felt the deck jostle slightly as the train moved over invisible bumps underneath. As the rickety procession of mismatched lumber picked up speed, the jostling smoothed out until the train moved smoothly through the air.

  "How fast will the train go?" Seneca asked Genedi.

  "Oh," Genedi said without looking up from his dials. "It not feel like it, but we move at maybe twenty clicks per hour. We get up to thirty if we don't run into gusters."

  Captain Hathan-Fen walked up to them, looking ill, and leaned against a mast behind the engine. "What happens if we hit a guster?" she asked.

  "Why, pretty lady," Genedi smiled, "we go faster." He frowned. "Don't touch mast."

  The captain groaned and stumbled back to the bench she'd been sitting on.

  Genedi laughed. "It the funny thing," he told Seneca. "Gusters make a maglev more stable. They good luck."

  "That's interesting," Alex said.

  "Mm-hmm," Seneca said, wobbling a bit himself when the train pitched
up.

  "It not that fast," Genedi pointed out. "But we no need to stop. Those durks on horses need to stop, need to rest. We have easy. We can all lay down, take nap maybe."

  "Everybody except you," Seneca reminded him.

  "Oh, I take nap too," he smiled. "Just have to feed the motor. Alex can assist. He not so much a durk, I think."

  "Uh, thanks," Alex said.

  "How long until we get to the other station?" Seneca asked.

  "Two days, plus a little more."

  "Excellent," Seneca said.

  Once the train was moving at a steady clip, and most of those on board overcame their motion sickness, Seneca introduced Alex to Sergeant Traore, the same man he'd seen earlier at the Celeste and again in the briefing room.

  "Call me Derrick," Traore said with a friendly smile, shaking Alex's hand.

  "Okay," Alex said.

  "Traore will show you how to use that pistol you brought," Seneca told Alex. "He's our resident sharpshooter, so pay attention. When he thinks you're ready, I'll match you up with someone else for more training.

  "Thanks, Colonel," Alex said. Seneca nodded and walked to another section of the train to talk with some of his officers.

  Two hours later, Traore found Seneca lying on a cot at the front of the train with his hat over his eyes.

  "Sorry to bother you, sir," Traore said, looking distressed.

  "It's alright, sergeant," Seneca replied. "What's wrong?"

  "I can't teach Mister Vonn any more."

  "What happened?" Seneca asked, remembering Alex's troubled history with the militia.

  "I taught him everything I could," Traore said. "He learned it." He shook his head. "All of it. The stuff it took me years to master. He gets it."

  "So, he's got talent," Seneca nodded, feeling relieved. "That's good."

  "He's a better shot than I am now," Traore lamented.

  "Well, teach him rifles then."

  "I did, Colonel. And it's not beginner's luck," Traore continued. "I told him if he was so good, we'd put him to the test. I got my best shooters together and had a puck shooting contest off the back of the train."

  "And?"

  "He beat us all. I lost a handful of ten-coins on my side bet."

  Alex walked up to join them. His pistol rode snugly against his right thigh, his falcata on the left. He had a smirk on his face as he placed a full pouch of coins in his pocket. "Thanks, Derrick," he said.

  Traore sighed.

  "Well done, Alex," Seneca said. "Sounds like you're ready for some close combat training, then."

  "Okay," Alex replied.

  "Traore," Seneca said, "would you take the deputy here to see Sergeant Brady?" I'm sure he'd love to give Alex the full once-over."

  "Yes, sir." Traore smiled and wagged a finger at Alex. "The full once-over. You heard him say that, right?"

  Alex nodded.

  "Maybe I'll challenge you to another shooting contest when Halfway's done with you. If you can still stand up, that is."

  "What does Halfway mean?" Alex asked.

  Traore chuckled and motioned for Alex to follow him.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Niko Zand leaned back in a chair on the front deck of the Edgewood ranger station, watching workers tend the Mokri trees as far as the eye could see. He had just finished attaching an aluminum canopy to his porch that extended ten meters beyond the wooden porch. He put it there ostensibly to keep a cool breeze flowing into the building, but that wasn’t the real reason. As both he and his wife Sarah knew, he wanted to grow a lawn by the station. He didn’t much like sand, and this was his reward to himself for keeping Edgewood peaceful and prosperous for the last ten years.

  Zand pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time. "Well, looks like I'm on duty now," he told himself." He pulled a brass star out of his pocket and pinned it to his vest. "Better get to work." He closed his eyes and smiled, almost able to imagine the smell of grass in the air. It wouldn't be easy, he knew, to keep his future lawn watered properly, as it rained so little in Edgewood. There was always the groundwater, which is what fed the Mokri trees in the grove. Their roots went deep enough to reach it. Grass, on the other hand, had shallow roots.

  After thinking about it for a while, Niko decided to punch tiny holes in the canopy and rig a magnetic pump to send water onto the roof. If he did it correctly, the water would dribble through the holes and create the illusion of rain. Not only would that give him the lawn he dreamed of, it would also function as a swamp cooler and lower the temperature in the ranger station. He imagined what it would be like to have it ten, even fifteen degrees cooler in his office. It wasn't long before he dozed off and began to snore.

  Niko jolted awake when he heard the braying of a bug mule nearby. He thought nothing of it at first. It was probably one of the local population digging through a refuse bin. He'd have to chase it out of town again, and then talk to Dennis about securing the trash a little better. Zand stood and got himself a cup of coffee from the cook stove in his office and walked back to his chair. As the bug mule came around the corner of the station, he saw the rider on its back. His good mood vanished.

  It was a young woman he had the misfortune of dealing with many times before. She was dressed as one might expect a desert traveler to be, with layers of ragged, loose-fitting clothing from head to toe and a hood pulled over her head. Unkempt brown hair, flecked with dust and pieces of dry grass, framed her face. Oversized goggles with mirrored lenses in a black leather shell hid her eyes. Along with the dirt that covered the rest of her face, one would not have much of an idea what she looked like under the mess.

  Kate Runaway.

  Niko groaned. He wanted his good mood back and wished Sarah would show up to take Kate off his hands. Sarah felt sorry for the girl, acting like a mother hen whenever she came to town. That was fine for the most part, but he feared it made Kate's visits more frequent than he preferred.

  He thought back to the first time Kate had come to Edgewood. A resident had seen her once in another town. He laughed when he told Niko how she got her name. People would say, “It’s Kate - Run away!” It was a mean thing to call her, he knew. It stuck, though, and she didn’t seem to mind. He had no idea if she actually was a runaway, though. No one knew where she came from, nor did they dare to ask. She was not known for conversation, polite or otherwise.

  The Zands tried to reach out to her on a number of occasions. Sarah even convinced her to join them for dinner once. It was an exercise in awkwardness that Niko didn’t care to repeat ever again. Though she did clean up before the meal, she still wore her desert garb with the hood up, declining to pull it down despite Sarah’s persistent nudging. Sarah then tried her best to learn about Kate's life, but her questions were met with meaningless answers or blank stares. Since that time, regardless of her seeming lack of interest in them, she always stopped at the ranger station when she passed through Edgewood. Sarah said it meant she was opening up to them. Niko suggested that Kate wasn't trying to make friends, and that she only saw an opportunity for free meals. Sarah scolded him, saying everyone needed friends, especially those with none.

  Niko forced a smile when Kate rode her mule right up to the deck and stopped in front of him.

  “Hello, Kate.”

  “Niko,” she said. She let go of the mule’s reins with her right hand, extended it toward him, palm facing upward, then pulled it back and grabbed the reins again. This was what she always did when she arrived and, as best he could tell, it was how she waved hello.

  Kate studied the new canopy above her head. “Grass won’t grow in this sand,” she commented. “Better bring some mud from the marshes. The squidfish dung makes it better.”

  “It’s really just for the shade and the cool air,” he lied, “but that’s an interesting idea.”

  Kate stared at him, her eyes hidden behind the goggles, then changed the subject. “Want to buy some sap?”

  Niko snorted with laughter. They were sitting at the e
dge of the largest system of groves in the territory, where sap oozed off the trees so quickly that anytime the workers stopped collecting it, they would have to go on fire alert. He was tempted to make a joke about it. When he remembered she had no sense of humor, he decided against it. She stared at him as she waited for an answer.

  Niko became suspicious when he saw her saddlebags.

  Kate was a nomad for whom property was a nuisance. When a person walked across the plains and scavenged for a living, anything that didn't fit in a pocket was superfluous. She occasionally rode bug mules when they stood still long enough to get a harness over their trunks, but she was just as likely to set the bug mule free and walk for days before finding another one. To say she was not a materialistic person was an understatement. Yet, here she sat with two very large saddlebags, probably weighing more than a hundred kilos each, draped over the bug mule’s rear end.

  Niko considered her notorious reputation as a scrounge, taking anything that wasn’t nailed down. Store owners generally let her pilfer little trinkets as long as she left without making a scene. This was different. The saddlebags were finely crafted, designed for long distance transport, and decorated with intricately tooled designs on the straps. It hardly looked like the kind of property someone would simply let her walk away with. In addition, they bulged with raw sap. If she had taken this payload from someone without their knowledge, it meant she had graduated to full-fledged theft.

  “Where did you get all that sap, Kate?” he asked her, trying to sound nonchalant.

  “Over there.” She pointed west. She didn’t think in terms of maps, locations, or distances - just directions.

  Niko thought about some of the outlying grovers who had reported discrepancies in their sap collections over the previous year. Production had been down for independent operators, though no one could identify the cause. They guessed the groundwater feeding the trees might have been at lower levels than usual, though it seemed to affect trees randomly. Zand had suspected thieves recently. That line of thinking had its own risks, so he didn’t want to bring up the idea without evidence. Today, Kate showed up with a load of sap looking for a buyer. He shook his head and stood up.