Doomed Cargo
Page 26
The man got out adjusting the long cuffs on a fine Danoran doublet. He had a manicured goatee with a sharp, beret style cap sporting a self-confident grin, and strolled with a sophisticated air he’d mastered over his sixty years or so. He said, offering a hand, “Hello and welcome to Molta’s Youth Advancement facility at Fantigo. My name is Gur DeWitt.”
Ben stepped to him accepting the handshake and said, “Excuse me—the what?”
“This is our youth advancement facility,” he said presenting the complex sprawled out behind him.
“What do you do here?” Ben asked.
“Here we shelter the young dispersed from conflict, primarily. But we’d like to think of ourselves as a reaffirmation establishment more so than a place of harbor. Here we offer options through education and trade building. We guide youth toward character, trust and integrity. That is our mission, sir. I am its administrator, and this is my personal assist, young sir Willum.” Willum, the teenage driver, nodded his greeting. He had a handsome face and bright eyes. Gur DeWitt said, “And who, might I ask, are you?”
Tawny leaned forward to shake hands, sold on the facility, and said, “I’m Tawny. This is my husband Benjar. And, boy, have we got something for you.”
The orphans were brought across the tarmac on a hover bus that took them to the medical wing. They entered the labs looking around at the sterile blue/white environment with big, computerized equipment standing along the sides, and medbots shuffling around. The bots greeted them beeping and burping as they moved by making them ooh and awe.
At the admittance room a crew of general practitioners bustled around them, inspecting their clothes and bodies. They took vitals and probed for bruises, administered reflex and germ protocols, ran nutrition tests, gave them tongue depressor examinations telling them to say “Ahhh” and to stick their tongues out. The kids giggled and fidgeted as a few of the practitioners laughed with them and tickled a few of the younger ones.
All the while, administrators collected all the information on them Tawny and Ben could offer. There wasn’t much to say, just their names and the children’s ability to acquiesce to new environments, not to mention the story of two doomed refugee colonies. The children tended to operate best in group, as if their comfort and survival depended on the group dynamic. This behavior was common among groups of displaced orphans. The administrators nodded and entered their observations into holopads.
Gur DeWitt showed particular excitement at the admission of new children into his perfect little world. He ran down the admission procedures to be expected over the next several days. First, their health would be addressed. Nutrisyrums would be administered as per their individual needs and specie.
Next, they’d be given assessment testing to discover their respective abilities and preferences. From there the children would be acclimated into peer groups as there were over a thousand children at the facility. They’d be given a rigorous, play-based syllabus of classes and simple labs to begin their futures as Molta-Danorans.
Upon their arrival, REX had been escorted across the small bay to the islet of Fantigo’s engineering school, where the school had setup a facility to begin the orphans’ rudimentary education in vessel maintenance and certification. The intermediate and advanced classes consisting mostly of active young teens, were given hands-on learning—and REX was given a full systems analysis with minor repair. All internal electronics were fixed as well as several minor systems. It wasn’t a complete repair, but it was a fine start, and it showcased the bright-eyed product that the school was preparing for entry into a big, turbulent solar system.
They’d been at the complex for a full day. In that time, Sireela had been given three proper meals of Danoran seafood with sweet vegetables grown on one of the neighboring islands where the orphans were learning about agriculture. She was water cleansed with warm, circulated H20 and given a new uniform of the Molta Youth Advancement facility at Fantigo—a two-tone blue one-piece jumpsuit with a signifying red mark across one shoulder.
And then it was time to say goodbye.
Tawny gave the orphans a big group hug becoming absorbed in their numbers. She made certain to give the Denubrian an extra hard squeeze while she itched behind the Solaptran’s ears, and then she sent them happily back to the administrators.
Tawny and Ben considered themselves very lucky. They couldn’t have hoped for a better home to leave the children, nor had they so much as conceived of it. Begrudgingly, Tawny felt she might have owed Rogan a thank you. The place was a godsend—whether it be from Ae’ahm or Wi’ahr didn’t matter.
But there was one orphan that would not be staying. She had a home among the distant planets. And she had a deliverer.
Watching Sireela and Jeluu, the tiny Stathosian girl, hug each other goodbye, putting their chins on the other’s shoulders, attempted to pull a tear from Tawny’s eye. Even Ben cleared his throat and cast his eyes privately to the sky. When they parted, Sireela handed over Rae the dolly, putting a big gleam in the Stathosian’s eye. Jeluu traded with an old copper coin she kept in her pocket for luck. With a final wave, Tawny and Ben led her away, back toward REX.
With an eleven-hour flight to Sarcon at max-three inner-warp they left Molta-Danoran space headed for whatever lie next. Six hours in, and with the yawns beginning to take Sireela, Tawny tucked her into the cot of Starboard One, one last time. She laid her down and pulled the blanket up to her chin. The girl’s tiny fingers clutched around the edges showing only the top of her head with those big, absorbing eyes staring up at Tawny.
Tawny smiled at her and said, “Just think, when you wake up, you’ll be at home.”
The girl said in little more than a whisper, “But I don’t know what is home.”
Tawny crooked her lips and rubbed her bitty shoulders. “Home is where you belong.”
“But what about here?” her tiny voice pleaded.
Tawny forced a smile, ran her fingers through the girl’s thick, clean hair and said, “Oh, Sireela, we’ve done all we can, baby.”
The girl nodded her head understanding. Tawny kissed the tip of her finger and laid it to the girl’s lips. With that, she stood to leave, but Sireela’s tiny voice said, “They said I was N’halo. That’s what they think.”
Caught, Tawny kneeled down by her cot and looked into her with deep, questioning eyes. “What do you think?”
Her shoulders shrugged. She whispered, “We all are.”
Tawny said, “We all are?”
“Uh-huh.”
She accepted that answer and said, “Then you need to tell them that.” She caressed her cheek, said, “Sleep now, okay?”
Tawny stood and turned to see Ben’s silhouette leaning against the door, the light of the corridor enshrouding him from behind. As she moved past, they hooked fingers affectionately, and she moved away. Ben sighed looking at the tiny lump of blanket laying in the wall bed. He moved to Sireela and got down on a knee marveling over the tiny little creature, feeling the presence of something much larger looking back up at him.
Could this girl represent some ancient prophecy? Was there truly a wisdom at play much larger than his own? He played it off with a snuffle and put his hand on her shoulder. Staring into her, the only thing he could think to say was, “Thank you.”
She blinked and smiled. He got up and left.
The proximity scanners indicated their destination approaching. They’d be in Sarcon space within the hour. Ben patted his control console affectionately as if to pat REX himself and left the cockpit.
In the main hold he found Tawny sitting in her port alcove bathed in starlight and reading a holobook projected into her hands. He said, “We’ll be approaching Sarcon orbit in about an hour.” She murmured something wordlessly and flipped a holopage. “What is that?” he asked.
She looked up, said, “The Nu’mata. It’s the spiritual text of the N’hana tribe.”
He grunted, “That stuff will give you nightmares, love.”
“A lot
of things will give you nightmares.”
He sat down at the holotable. Its surface was still shattered from Tawny’s earlier outburst. He asked, “So, do you actually believe in all that stuff—the prophesied child and all that?”
She shrugged a shoulder, said, “I don’t know.” She closed the holobook and laid it aside. She inhaled thoughtfully and said, “All I know is, that little girl in there saved my life, Benji. It wasn’t luck or chance. It wasn’t even you or me. It was her. She stared the devil in the face, and then she killed it. And honestly, she made it look kind of easy.”
He regarded her words seriously. “Darkest hour kind of stuff, huh?”
Tawny nodded her head, grimly. “Yeah. That thing had me, babe. I was a goner.”
Ben groaned. The thought laid heavy on his mind. He leaned forward bracing himself on his knees and asked, “Do you think that’s proof that the girl is this N’halo character?”
Tawny flashed him a finger, took the holobook and opened it back up. Reading, she said tongue-trippingly, “Nafoona ha’wan’aki non Manji Bwa’nada.”
He smiled, humored. “What is that?”
“It’s a N’hana proverb. It means ‘the search for proof alone will yield no fruit,’ or something like that.”
“Ah,” he said leaning back. “So then it’s all about faith, eh?”
She shook her head, said, “No—not faith either. Faith is Dorod’ot.” She concluded, “It means ‘reckless.’”
Confusion showing, he said, “No faith, no proof—what kind of a book is this Nu’mata?”
“It’s a book of truth. It doesn’t seem to give two narsicles about what we believe. It just tells us what is.”
“That’s not very convincing for a spiritual text.”
“Oh yeah? Well, get this,” she said opening to another page. She translated slowly as she read, “N’halo shall be plucked as one from the ashes.” She looked up, said, “The evac unit that brought her to Haven Crest said they rescued her from a burned out hovel.”
Ben made a doubtful face and said, “Plucked from the ashes, huh? That kind of thing happens all the time, dear.”
“Uh-huh, and this.” She read again. “From the stars will come the motherless child whose arms will enfold her.”
Ben raised an eyebrow and repeated, “A motherless child. Arms will enfold her.” He squinted at her, said, “You?”
“Maybe. But it goes on.” Reading again, she said, “And the energies of the enemy will know her as deliverer.” She looked up. “This iDaisy, a data stream life form put inside the data stream by the Obsalom Order, called me ‘deliverer.’ And …” she read more, “N’halo will rise as the destroyer of her destroyers.” She looked at Ben with finality.
He said, “Huh. She stared the devil in the eye and killed it.”
Tawny nodded her head assuredly. “That’s right.”
They sat in a moment of revelation that prickled Ben’s skin. He shook it off and got to his feet. “Hmm—that’s very interesting. I’m just glad it doesn’t have anything in there about me.”
Tawny giggled and said, “Oh, but it does, babe. That’s the best part. Get this:”
He turned around not sure he wanted to hear more.
Tawny read on, “And unto the deliverer will belong moon killer, a man called criminal.”
Ben’s eyes went into slits.
Moon killer. As in Menuit-B.
Criminal. As in an Imperium soldier in Confederation space.
Ben’s face broke into a slow grin showing skepticism, and he said, “No way …”
“We are being hailed, Cap,” REX said.
“Go ahead.”
A signal came through REX’s ship-to-ship comm channel, and a voice said, “This is Commander Leptis of the Confederation security vessel Securum. You are approaching Sarcon space. You will stop immediately and prepare to be boarded for security inspection and identification.”
Ben’s face melted into shock and he groaned, “Oh, balls.”
***
And the adventure continues in …
BOUNTY HUNTED:
A Space Rules Adventure Part 3
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BOOK 3 — COMING IN APRIL
What do you get when the newest threat in the Solar Twin System pisses off an army of renegade black market cargo haulers? An army of pissed off renegade black market cargo haulers. So watch out!
Bounty Hunted:
A Space Rules Adventure Part 3
COMING IN APRIL
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