Nighthawks at the Mission (The Long Preview)

by Forbes West

  One point of the star has broken off, having fallen over and taken a piece of the mountain with it. The rest seem to be in good condition. You notice an odd reddish “light” around it, somewhat faded. You wonder if it’s the moonlight being reflected, but you are not sure.

  “That star can hold up to 100,000 people, if not more. Star in the Mountain is the one of the few left that’s still intact,” Jaime says in a whisper. “So are we supposed to-?” Jaime nods over to Mission Friendship. “Do we walk it? What’s the instructions?”

  You only stare up at the stars in the sky as you wait, not thinking and not listening for the moment. The constellations are so different, so jumbled up compared to what you can see on Earth. Seven moons drift overhead, amazing you. Somewhere Earth is there, you suppose, up in the middle of all that.

  Chapter Six: The Ritual

  Far away you see what looks like an old-school police cruiser painted yellow, blue, and white, its headlights flickering on and off. It seems to be signaling to you and Jaime who are still on the badly-lit station platform with the idling train. The cruiser has a rough double tap rumble to it, like something is wrong with the muffler. The vehicle is at least thirty years old and definitely not American made. More European-ish in style. The words Mission Security written in English and Perchta decorate the sides of the vehicle.

  The cruiser pulls up. Two young guys, both in black leather uniforms like motorcycle cops, pop out. Each one has an ori-baton, a pistol, and a sawed-off double-barreled shotgun attached to his belt. They call out to the Ni-Perchta train workers in their language, speaking Perchta fluently, before coming up to you two. The Ni-Perchta are busy off-loading some cases from one of the monorail’s cars.

  “Who are they?” I say. “Cops?”

  Jaime blows out a raspberry. “The Ephors are the only cops to be really scared of, Sarah. No, these are just Counters, uh, Mission Security who work as, well, security for the Network Missions. They actually operate under the Bill of Rights.”

  The two men who came from the cruiser shake hands with the Ni-Perchta in the Ni-Perchta way: one hand closed up in a fist touching the chest, the other out and shaking in one smooth pumping motion.

  “They look like college students. Just like us,” you say, watching them.

  Jaime suddenly becomes nervous. “Be careful what you say to them. You don’t know how they’ll turn it. We love each other very much and are happily married.”

  He kisses you on the cheek, which is now the second time you have kissed since you have been officially married.

  The Counter with glasses and long hair begins to speak to you and Jaime. “I am Tadeo Marcelino, and this is Robert Fuller.” He puts out his hand to you and then to Jaime. You each shake it and then Robert’s hand.

  Jaime says, “We’re married, me and her, and this is great. This is fun, this is what couples do.” The inspectors shoot you and Jaime a weird look.

  A single eerie horn blasts out over the dark, empty land, like a call from a dead Viking’s tomb. Other horns begin to blow, from all directions. You hear what you assume to be other Ni-Perchta out in the darkness, far off, calling out to each other.

  “This is the night of the comet’s return. It signals something to them—a chance for change, incredible change. You see the moons up there—the seven—those are the Seven Sisters of Night. And with the comet here, it’s the return of the Eighth Sister—the one that’ll fight with the other sisters before passing on. The Eighth Sister is important—she determines the future of all. The Ni-Perchta know the exact hour when this comet will return every century. Incredible isn’t it?”

  “Oh, yes. I knew that,” you say.

  The Counters gesture to their cruiser. “Let’s take you over. There’s a local nomadic tribe… They like to know those who work and live at Mission Friendship. They are not like the city Ni-Perchta who hate our guts but smile to our faces.”

  “They’re called covens, Sarah,” Jaime pipes in.

  Robert Fuller, the shorter one, nods. “Yes, that’s correct Jaime.”

  Jaime looks very happy to hear that.

  Tadeo continues, “A lot of your future neighbors are there, too. The Coven of Upper Sargasso has welcomed you all. All are welcome.”

  “All are welcome, all welcome. Go into the light. There is peace and serenity in the light…” you say in a high and creepy falsetto voice, making Jaime and the inspectors look at you. “Never saw Poltergeist? Huh. I’m sorry I’m still a little high-”

  “Highly exhausted,” Jaime says. He takes our luggage and puts it into the back of the cruiser.

  ~~~~

  YOU come up to an open grass area with a single tree in the middle. Two Ni-Perchta males are spraying something on this tree using an old garden hose connected to a small tank. A few other Ni-Perchta set this tree on fire; its entire form is now blazing and crackling under the dark sky. The smoke and the smell of the burning wood reminds you of Halloweens past when you used to have bonfires at Bolsa Chica beach.

  The Ni-Perchta sit around on what look like giant carpets, watching the tree engorged in flame. You and Jaime and the Counters jump out of the cruiser. The Counters and, oddly, even Jaime call out to the Ni-Perchta in Perchta.

  It certainly looks like the Ni-Perchta are happy to see you, and they offer you a place on their rough carpets stretched out over the soil. Meat and a sort of red milk are offered but you and the two Counters gently refuse. Jaime refuses as well after a moment. One Ni-Perchta brings out a small wooden baton, and with that strange little power of telekinesis that only orichalcum can give, pulls a group of branches off the burning tree and sets them into a circle of rocks to make their own separated bonfire for cooking skewers of meat that hang limply from rusty bayonets.

  From over the horizon you see lit torches and hear the stamping of feet and the creaking of wagon wheels over the grasslands. More Ni-Perchta are gathering towards the burning tree, coming from all angles.

  Jaime rubs his hands together, excited. “Must be somethin’ special!”

  You and Jaime watch the Ni-Perchta approach in pairs and in groups, some with fully decorated wagons adorned in garish colors like the old Gypsies back on Earth. Others arrive in small, rotted out pickup trucks and in cars twenty or thirty years old being towed by hairy cows that have six devil-black horns coming from the sides of their heads. These are the Afer animals. A few dump trucks, covered in beads and wind chimes, pull up as well, loud and jangling.

  One Ni-Perchta, regal-looking, drives up in a rusted Ford Mustang with no doors and chains on its tires, being pulled by nothing but Detroit horsepower coming out of a bad engine. This older Ni-Perchta puts on his head a sort of black headdress; it looks like three straight, black Afer horns are coming out of both sides.

  The Ni-Perchta call out to each other in their language, laughing or singing their funeral dirge songs.

  The Ni-Perchta women are beautiful, their platinum hair waist-length around angular faces, their eyes glowing red in the dark. They wear almost see-through blouses and tunics that are every color of the rainbow.

  Some of the Ni-Perchta males and their children begin setting up large drums. With large, smooth sticks the Ni-Perchta start to pound the drums in unison, creating a steady, thundering beat.

  Whistles and flutes begin playing; there’s a distinctly oriental sound to them, like something out of Japan or elsewhere in the Far East. Poles are raised that have wind chimes placed on top of them. The drums continue to beat in rhythm, slow, steady. The two humans with you, the Network boys, stand to the side, observing. You start to see some humans come out of the dark as well. Everyone’s the same age or a little bit older than yourself. They have come by wagon or by crappy ‘70s-era cars.

  The Ni-Perchta stand around in groups, holding hands now, singing their funeral dirge songs.

  The drums start beating a little more quickly, then a little more quickly. The Ni-Perchta begin to dance in a large circle, all of them spinning around in thei
r own individual circles, slowly. They are chanting now, something you would hear at the entrance to Hell, you suppose. They stop.

  “Oh Lord,” Jaime says, pointing to the sky. A comet, white and glowing, streaks across the sky, as large as one of the moons. It blots out some of the stars as it passes, frightfully large.

  “The Ni-Perchta know the exact hour when the comet will return every century. Incredible isn’t it?” Robert the Counter says.

  The chief of the Ni-Perchta speaks a few sentences and you suddenly notice that all eyes are on you and Jaime. You assume that he is the chief by his headdress and the way the other Ni-Perchta pay attention to him.

  The drums start to beat again, slowly this time. The chief sends over a little Ni-Perchta girl, a cute one, perhaps in her very early teens, who has something wrapped in a cloth.

  She gives you a collapsed expandable baton, one like all the others that humans carry around. It’s brand new, shiny. It has empty slots to put in orichalcum stones; only one slot has a blue-white orichalcum stone fitted into it. In tiny letters you can read Telekinesis above it.

  “A goddamn weapon. Sweet,” you say. “I refuse.”

  Jaime looks at you funny. “Refuse? You are a Force-Fire. Like me. It’s sort of interesting. They want to make sure you are okay. They are so happy you’ll be working at Mission Friendship.”

  You nod and then look around like you’ve just woken up from a deep sleep. And then realize you should ask, “What’s a Force-Fire?”

  “A resurrection of a local hero. Sort of like the concept the Tibetan Buddhists have about tulkus. You are a great soul, they say, but you just don’t know it yet. Apparently, me too. We escaped from those dungeons—they, they all know this.” Jaime looks confused, but excited at the same time.

  “Wow. Great,” you respond, disinterested.

  “Of course you can refuse it… But that’s, that’s…”

  “Do I have to thank them? Thank you guys, thanks…” you say quietly, as the large crowd of aliens stare at you, some with eyes reflecting red since it is night-time. One Ni-Perchta looks like he is sharpening a sword in the background. You think you see Guy Farson somewhere in the background too, but you are not really sure. A shadow of that good-looking man disappears into the darkness. You feel a little scared now as you are surrounded on all sides by the Ni-Perchta.

  “Can’t believe we did that…” you say, reflecting on what happened not even a full day before. The Counters look at you curiously, exchanging glances between each other.

  “Thank you,” you say to the Ni-Perchta girl who is still standing next to you. The Network Counters and Jaime nearly trip over each other trying to get the translation out.

  “Why did they just give it to me?” you ask.

  Robert, the other Counter, speaks to you in a whisper. “The chief says that it will help protect you as your past life comes into your present life.”

  “You should give a speech,” Tadeo the Counter says.

  “A speech for what? I don’t know why. This is some silly stuff guys. I just got through some shitty twenty-four hours and you’re springing this- this craziness on me…” You cough and then nod to the entire crowd of Ni-Perchta. You decide quickly that perhaps you should say something.

  A long moment passes. You speak loudly and clearly. “I’m sorry, but I don’t want to be an emperor. That's not my business. I don’t want to rule anyone or conquer anyone. I should like to help everyone—if possible—Jew, Gentile, black man, white. We all want to help one another. Human beings are like that. We want to live by each other’s happiness—not by each other’s misery. We don’t want to hate and despise one another. In this world there is room for everyone. And The Oberon is- is rich and can provide for everyone. The way of life here can be free and beautiful.”

  The crowd looks confused, and the Ni-Perchta say nothing as one of the Counters translates for you, a confused look on their face.

  “It’s from The Great Dictator. I had to memorize it for drama class. You’re welcome,” you say in a whisper to Jaime. Jaime looks confused.

  “Humphrey Bogart was in it?”

  “Never mind,” you say.

  The crowd cheers for an unknown reason after the Counter finishes, and you realize you are definitely still high from the Valis wheel. The speech still sticks in your mind. You haven't thought about that movie in a long time, nor have you thought about that Charlie Chaplin speech. The speech means a lot to you actually, though you don’t share that information with anyone.

  The other humans come out of the crowd of Ni-Perchta, walking over to you. The first you meet is this nice couple, the Cartwrights, a young couple from England who apparently run a lumber mill or something. The man, Wellington, “Call me Wellington,” he says, after you call him “Devo” for no reason, is Mission Friendship’s head doctor. His wife, Temperance Cartwright, cuts up and sells the trees around the Funeral Breaks to local Ni-Perchta tribes. You ask if the Ni-Perchta are too stupid to figure out how to use a saw blade and she laughs nervously and tells you no and that what you just said is a bit racist.

  You also meet the Page sisters: two girls, one skinny with horn-rimmed glasses (Treena) and the other chubby with bouncy blonde hair (Winniefreddie), who run the bar inside Mission Friendship, the Benbow Inn. You say, “Fantastic!” and ask one of them to bounce on back to the Benbow and get you a drink. Jaime apologies and forces you to leave.

  In the back of the cruiser on the way to Mission Friendship, as Jaime is still beaming at his surroundings, you take a look at the baton that the Ni-Perchta gave you. Though their concept of who you are is quite ridiculous, you find them giving you the baton to be a very nice gesture.

  Chapter Seven: Mission Friendship

  The Ni-Perchta go back to their caravan homes and their trucks and cars to relax and perhaps sleep the night away. Though the smaller bonfire has petered out, the tree still burns, fully engulfed yet strangely not falling apart.

  You see it behind you as you drive towards Mission Friendship, passing over the wooden bridge across the river. Someone has left strange white graffiti on parts of the bridge’s wall. The graffiti is just the number 2 divided by 10.

  A wanted sign is pasted onto one of the pillars of the bridge. It says: WANTED—CHARLES MATHIAS, LEADER OF MATHIAS-PETTY GANG. A hand-drawn and faded picture of a man with curly red hair has been copied onto the poster. Convicted Murderer. 25 Million Dii-Yaa Reward, Alive or Dead, from Ephors of Kadath and Bureau of Off-World Affairs. A dragon-like symbol is stamped at the bottom of the poster.

  You mean to ask Jaime about it but Mission Friendship is ahead of you. As you get closer, the Mission looks like it is half out of the movie Kundun or Seven Years in Tibet and half like it belongs in Vegas or Dubai. The glitzy ugliness of the apartment tower arbitrarily grafted onto the old stone dzong is jarring to you.

  You are mildly excited about what you are about to get into, curious more than anything else. A monument sign, states that, yes, this is indeed Mission Friendship. This cruiser is parked outside the massive wooden doors of the old part of the Mission; you notice the doors are ajar. Behind them is a set of glass doors, leading to the interior.

  ~~~~

  YOU walk through the lobby; a pair of desks face you head on. The Counters had to unlock the glass doors of the building and then turn on the lights.

  You see a couple of glass-walled offices off to one side. Reaching the two desks, you see each has stacks of brochures and a computer on top, along with a printer. Each computer and each printer has a funny-looking, metallic cage over it. One of the Counters grabs a clipboard and a yellow packet full of keys from one of the desks and leads you to the elevators.

  This lobby area is as big as a soccer field and has within its stone walls three all-American shops: a McDonald’s, a Subway (which makes your skin crawl a little), and a Starbucks. Though the lobby looks like it had once been the inner courtyard or hall for the great palace, it is now a glorified food court. A smaller s
hop with closed doors, off to the far right corner, away from fast food row, has a wooden sign stenciled with the words: Benbow Inn. The smell of French fries is both comforting and overwhelming. A large marketplace area, closed off and behind steel bars, seems to be your local grocery store. It takes up most of the space of the lobby.

  Hanging on one wall of this lobby area you see an incredible painting—it’s of a wizard, you think, perhaps a representation of the Witch-Lord himself. The figure is covered in shadow, holding a gnarled staff. A white light seems to be shining on this figure but it only illuminates his outline and never his (or even her) features.

  Later you walk up to the picture and see a small plaque with an inscription written in English, Japanese, and Perchta confirming your belief: The Hidden Witch-Lord of The Oberon.

  Radio Oberon is playing through hidden speakers; it’s an old doo-wop fifties song.

  “Well now, they often call me Speedo

  But my real name is Mr. Earl”

  As you tow your suitcase behind you, the men from Mission Security take you to a row of elevators. You find yourself lowered, not brought up a floor; you are in some dingy basement-like area. The light here is pale and barely illuminates anything. The MS men take you to your front door, which opens to reveal a fairly large two-bedroom place. Bland furniture and appliances fill up the space, and there is no television, just a large, old style radio, an antique rescue from the forties. There are no windows, which depresses you further. The walls are blank inside your new and poorly furnished home. A welcome basket sits on one white counter next to the sink, and you find the refrigerator fully stocked with bland goodies.

  The Counters check through the place quickly. Robert is making notes on how the place looks. This is your moving in inspection, you realize dimly. Jaime is doing all the talking.

  Jaime calls you over finally to sign off on the last few bits of paperwork, and you do so. Jaime hugs you for a second. “New home for you-us. Kind of cool, huh?”

  It’s all a bit too much for you and your stomach heaves for a quick and painful moment. Jaime mentions that you have been feeling a little sick lately, which explains “the silliness you do” to the Counters.