His voice grew louder. "Everything was perfect before Leslie showed up with guns! They were the cause of everything wrong! If they hadn’t been on Circadia, we would have never had a problem." He eased back in his chair.
"You really believe that? You think the issue was guns and not Leslie himself?"
"Well, I think Leslie is an evil man, but he was given power by the firepower he possessed."
"You're ignorant." The words jumped right out of my mouth. I didn't entirely regret it though, so I backed it up. "It doesn't matter if they were allowed or not. He would have gotten his grubby fingers on them. Either way, he took away any kind of defense we had! He took away our shovels, for crying out loud! That's what the government here has done to people. When we watched the riot the other night, did you notice the government had guns?"
He sat quietly, his eyes averted. Finally, he said, "Yeah, they did. That was to control the crowd though."
"Who said the crowd was the ones who needed controlling? Look at things from a different perspective and tell me what it's like from that side, then we'll talk. If the government laid down their weapons as well, I could understand your side, but they're not."
He nodded silently. I think he understood, but he would never say it. "Aella?" he asked.
"Yeah?"
“How do you think this is all going to end?" He gave me a straight face. He was sincerely serious about his question.
I thought for a moment. "Honestly, I have no idea. I know how I want it to turn out, but—"
He cut me off. "How do you want it to turn out? If it was a perfect world, how would you like things to go?"
I pursed my lips. "Probably about how this conversation went. I wish I could talk to people and get them to see both sides and come to a compromise. Agree to disagree on some things. Mainly I want everyone to have some semblance of freedom, you know? Almost like it was on Circadia before Leslie. Everyone creates a community that works together. No government, no power, no money. Fair trade and labor among communities. I think that would solve everything and would make me extremely happy. Then I'd like to go back to Circadia and send provisions back here to help feed everyone. I want to help. I truly do. I don't want to be anyone's slave, though. In a perfect world, of course."
Smith thought about what I said. There may have even been tears in his eyes. He worked his jaw back and forth, then tensed. "You know that's not what's going to happen, right?"
The words stung more than I thought they would. I knew what he would say. I knew he was right. It didn't stop the pang of unfairness and frustration that hit me, though. I sighed. "I know."
"How do you think it will go?" he asked.
"Not good."
He laughed. "Not good? How so? Explain, please."
I shook my head. I'd pondered it a lot, and no matter what I thought of or what new ideas I had, it all came back to the same place. "They're not going to back down. They won't back down because that would mean relinquishing power. Even if they compromised, they would have to possess less power than they have now, and that will never happen."
"Why not?"
"Because power is addictive. You can't simply let go, and they won't either."
"So what are we going to do if it's hopeless? Why waste our time and effort?" he demanded.
"Because there's a chance, Smith. That's all I need. I need to be able to tell myself that I tried."
"Tell yourself you tried?" he asked.
"Before I threaten to use the god rod, I want to be certain I plan to use it. Of course, I hope the threat alone will be enough to open their eyes that they won't get their way and there's no option, but if it isn't enough, I plan to use it."
His eyes widened in horror. "You said you didn't want to become the monster you're negotiating with. What happened to that? You know, you made some really good points about the guns. Might even have changed my mind. There’s power in having power and still choosing not to use it. Using the god rod takes away any defense they have. How are you any different than them?"
Not knowing how to answer, I stared at the wall in thought once again. I bit my lip and picked at my nails. Was I a monster? Was I going about this all wrong?
After he realized I didn't have an answer, he stood. "I hope you think about what you said. If you still think what you said is right, count me out." He walked away.
"Count you out?" I called after him. "What does that mean?"
He turned to look at me and pursed his lips. He looked at me for a moment, then down at the floor, and turned to leave the room. The door closed behind him with a small click and left me alone with my thoughts. What had I done?
I laid in bed, eyes filled with tears. I felt so lost. When I said what I did, it felt so right. No one had truly challenged my opinions in a while, and it sucked, but was he right? I thought about it all night until I drifted off to sleep on my tear-soaked pillow.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The next morning, we all sat at the conference table upstairs. "He said he'd call," Ross said.
"We can't wait around for him, though," Jane said. She shifted uneasily in her seat. "We have to be proactive. I've been watching the news all morning, and things are getting worse."
"Everyone, take a device from the middle of the table. Let's find another unbiased journalist. There has to be more than one," Herrold instructed.
"There isn’t more than one that people listened to," Smith mumbled under his breath.
Herrold slapped the table, which madeSmith's and everyone else's eyes jump up from their tablet or phone. "Try!"
The room grew quiet as everyone set to work on their devices. People trickled out of the conference room with their faces still glued to their tablets. After two or three people had exited, I left the room too. I grabbed some food, then went down to my room to relax in bed during my search. The space was vacant and dark. I surfed the web for what felt like days. I was still searching late in the night when a video chat request from 'Unknown' popped up on my device.
I paused for a moment, then accepted. A man's face appeared on the screen. Axel Cason. "Hello, Aella." His cool demeanor echoed through the glowing screen.
I grinned. "Hello, Axel. How did you get hold of me? This isn't the device you talked to Ross Herrold on."
"I have my ways." He shot me a wink. "I need a favor from you."
"From me?"
"Yes. You see, I'm not exactly a fugitive, but there are people in this world who despise my honest interviews and exposés. I don't want any attention drawn to me unless I want it. You understand?"
I nodded.
"By the time your interview hits the internet, I want to be very far from Mumbai. I have no doubt you have people watching the compound where you're staying. I don't want an inquiry into why so many people are coming and going. It needs to be discreet, and it needs to be now."
I was confused. "So what do I do?"
"You need to come alone. Not totally alone because it's dangerous... Bring one person with you. I need you to get out of there without being noticed. Think you can do that?" he asked.
"I'll see what I can do. Where will I find you?"
He smiled. "Are you familiar with Mumbai?"
I gave a nervous laugh. "Not at all."
"Me either, but I hear there's a flora fountain near the center of the city. Meet me there."
"How will I know how to get there?"
"Google it." He ended the chat.
I quickly typed Flora Fountain into the Google search bar. A beautiful photo of a monument appeared. The description mentioned that an old horticulture society built the landmark to commemorate the goddess of flowers. How appropriate. Axel knew I was an agronomist. The search history would show an agronomist, someone interested in horticulture and science, googling a monument erected in its honor in the city I'm calling home. He knew it wouldn't throw up any red flags to anyone interested in our browsing. Smart. I caught on and searched a few more landmarks and monuments in India related to agricultur
e to cover my tracks. Now, who would I get to go with me? My mind drifted to Smith.
I strode down the hall toward his door when I met him in the hallway. "Hey!" I yelped. "I need your help!"
He stood silent.
"What?" I asked.
"Did you think about what you said earlier?"
"Yes, Smith. I did. This is important. Can we talk in your room?" The urgency pushed me.
"Stop. Did you think about it or not?"
I was fed up. "Never mind, Smith!"
He didn’t miss a beat. "Okay then, guess not. Have a good night." He walked into his room and locked the door, as evidenced by the loud click of the bar.
I stood stunned, then decided to move on. I ran down the hallway toward the conference room, where you could always find one of the Herrold brothers researching. As I crossed the foyer, I ran into Jane, who was eating a peanut butter sandwich. I quickly explained the situation, and she replied that she felt it was unsafe for only me and her to go. I had to agree, but she accompanied me to the conference room.
Phillip sat at the end of the conference room table with his bare feet resting upon the top with a tablet in his lap as he typed rapidly. When we rushed into the room, he swung his feet down and sat straight. "What's going on?"
Together, we hastily explained the situation to him. He thought for a moment. "I'll send you with a guard."
"You're not going with me?" I asked. It was strange that one of the men who landed on Circadia in a self-driven spacecraft toting automatic assault rifles blazing to bring me home didn't want to go. "Do you think Ross will want to go?"
"It's not that we don't want to go or that we're incapable, Aella. It's a matter of survivability."
Chills went down my spine.
He continued. "If you don't come back, someone needs to continue providing support for the war. That’s it. Not to mention, we both have somewhat of a public face that's easier recognized than yours. No offense. The last thing you want out there is to be recognized, especially by the wrong person."
It all made sense. I nodded. "Okay then, who am I going with?" I looked around the room.
"I'll bring up a bodyguard. They'll go. It's as safe as going with one of us."
That made me scared. "I'd really like to go with someone I know."
"Since Smith refused and Jane isn’t an option, I see no other way, do you?"
I sighed. "Fine. I'm not happy about it, though."
He laughed. "That's fine. The whole world is unhappy right now. What's another casualty of dark times?"
I glared back.
I STOOD AT THE TUNNEL door and waited. Phillip informed me of an underground tunnel they had created in the event of a need for escape or any other disaster. They had never used it, but we would now. It was handy for this expedition since the tunnel emerged three miles from the meeting point with Axel. The bodyguard was supposed to meet me in five minutes, so I had some time to kill. I walked down the white tile tunnel and inspected the walls. The tiles were cool under my hand, a telling sign of being far underground. Once I touched them, I briefly wondered how far under we truly were. My eyes rolled to the ceiling above me as if that would reveal the answer.
"Ma'am." It was the bodyguard. I jumped slightly as his voice boomed down the tunnel and echoed.
I turned to see the man dressed in a casual ensemble of jeans and a t-shirt. I wore the same but had expected more from a Herrold brothers guard. Surprised at the unprofessionalism, I blurted, "You look comfortable."
"We want to blend in," he pointed out. "Yes, I’m extremely comfortable."
He said it in such a serious tone I couldn’t help bursting into laughter that traveled down the long hallway behind us. Shocked by my voice’s acceleration, I stifled my chuckles and stood at attention before the man in front of me. "You first?"
"This way." He walked down the white tunnel, and I followed. Each footstep reverberated off the walls. Other than that, our trip was relatively quiet. Neither of us talked as we silently journeyed forward.
When we reached a “T” in the tunnel, we stopped.
"Which way?" I looked at the bodyguard, who glanced up one way and down the other.
There was an awkward pause before he said, "The left."
I couldn't help but scrunch up my face with skepticism. "Are you sure? It's okay if you're not."
He threw a glance my way, then looked forward again. "I'm sure." Then he took off in that direction. I had no other option than to follow. His guess had to be better than mine anyway.
The corridor spanned until we couldn't see farther. When I wondered if it would ever end, I spotted a door up ahead on the ceiling with a ladder up to it. "Is that our exit?"
"It is," the bodyguard confirmed.
I mused to myself, then opened my mouth. "We need a golf cart or something for these tunnels. That would have been a lot quicker."
He smiled briefly. "We have ATVs for that very reason, but they’re detectable, and that's not the goal for this mission."
"Right. I didn't think about that."
"After you, ma'am." He gestured for me to climb the ladder once we reached it.
I inhaled deeply to calm any nerves, then took the first step up. As I ascended toward the door at the top, I shot a look back at the bodyguard who still stood in the middle of the tunnel. "Are you coming?"
"After you, Miss. Go ahead and open the door. I will be up directly after."
I nodded and opened the door. The air immediately felt different. It was thicker, warmer, and musty. When I swung the door wide, I realized I was in a raw wooden building that looked as if it had been vacant for the last fifty years. The bodyguard quickly came up behind me and into the room. The noises outside the walls were loud and chaotic, with a steady drum of yelling and wheels moving down the road.
"Is this where we were supposed to end up?" I asked.
"Yes. We made it. We’re only a few blocks from Flora Fountain. We need to blend in with the people outside, so make your appearance dirty and tired." As he spoke, he grabbed some of the dust and dirt off the floor and ground it into his pants and shirt.
"Are you sure?" I asked.
"Do it, unless you want to get caught."
I swiped some dust off a nearby shelf and gently ran it through my brown hair. Then I used my index fingers to create the appearance of dark shadows under my eyes. I sat on the ground and rolled in the dry and dusty dirt for a moment, then rose to my feet.
The bodyguard approached me and grabbed a pocket knife from his side. I yelped as he tore two holes in the knees of my jeans and cut off the hem of my shirt. "Is that really necessary?" I asked. It was my favorite t-shirt.
"I won't be seen outside these walls with you unless we do this. Understand?"
I nodded. I wasn't sure what would happen if someone found me out. Would they capture me? Who would “they” be, and what would they do with me? What would they do to anyone with me? The questions were vague and possibly misguided, but I still couldn't fully comprehend the situation. It felt like something was missing.
The bodyguard stood at the building’s exit. "Are you ready?"
I looked down at my tattered clothes, threw my hands in the air, and laughed. "As ready as I'll ever be, I guess!"
He winked in an uncharacteristic show of humanity and opened the door to the street.
Chaos. That's the only way I could explain it. I thought back to the Hollywood movies and the way they portrayed India. They always made it seem so full of bustling life. The reality now was chaos without the enrichment. It was as if all the vibrant colors I thought of had faded out, and angry, hungry looks had replaced the smiling faces that celebrated culture. It was desolate. We quickly closed the door behind us and slowly walked down the street in an attempt to blend.
The more we walked, the more I noticed. What seemed like pure chaos with no rhythm turned out to have a clear system. It all revolved around food and money, but mostly food. Children begged in the street for either. Pickpoc
kets ran rampant. Men did hard labor like hauling heavy loads of dried goods. Children cut small incisions in the bags to steal a morsel of food. At the middle point of the street on one side, a large food stand stood tall with fresh fruit and vegetables. When we passed, I saw crazy large amounts of money exchanged for a small piece of fruit. We were talking one hundred dollars for an apple. We thought eating fresh was expensive before Circadia, but we had no idea. Everyone worked or tried to get food one way or another.
The bodyguard and I moved through the thousands of people shuffling through their lives as best we could, but it took longer than I expected. A distance that should have only taken ten minutes was now forty-five. Every street and side road was like this. Filth, people, and vehicles covered the pavement. It was packed. After resigning myself to the fact it would take time to reach Axel, I took in the scenery and tried to understand the cacophony happening in front of me.
While intently watching, I caught the eye of a young boy on a mission running in and out of the crowd. I focused on him out of curiosity and followed his every move as he zoomed around in front of us. Once he was about three car lengths in front of us, I watched as he held his pocket out to catch rice from the bag he had slit open. A slight grin tugged my lips as I shared the accomplishment on his face. Then, it abruptly ended. A large man grabbed the boy by his wrist and yelled. I couldn't hear his words over the hustle and bustle, but the kid looked scared. I rushed ahead to find out what was happening. The bodyguard followed closely behind while yelling for me to stop, but I had to know what would happen.
When I was close enough, I heard the man say, "You fucked up.” The child's face turned wet with tears nearly instantly, and he frantically tried to pull away. The man dragged him down the street, and I launched into a run. When I caught up with him, I grabbed his shoulder.
The man turned on his heels with the boy still in tow. Once he faced me, I panicked. He didn't look that big or tall from a distance, but he did now that I stood directly in front of him. I took a moment to gather my reserve, then cleared my throat and spoke up. "Excuse me, sir. What will happen to the boy?"
The Circadia Chronicles: Omnibus: The Complete Colonization Sci-Fi Series Page 28