by Andy Kasch
“I don’t think it was all that difficult,” Jumper said. “Have you taken a good look at our society lately?”
Hol4 nodded. “Well, I’m glad to hear the local university is still in operational status. That’s hopeful.”
Alan began laughing. “I wouldn’t go so far as to call it fully operational. We have some professors who are more obsessed with lecturing than any side-pursuit could ever seduce them. They still talk, so some of us go listen to what they have to say, hoping to learn something. But the curriculum is unstructured. There’s no grades, no graduation, the professors don’t keep track of who’s listening, and there is no publicly-recognizable benefit for attending. Extat, we can’t even prove we were there. So ‘position of prominence in society’ isn’t an accurate reference of the professors’ jobs. And Jumper’s dad isn’t exactly famous for his inventions.”
Jumper threw a small rock at Alan, who flinched and shot him a defiant look.
“I’ll go with you, nevertheless,” Hol4 said. “I have nothing else to do, and greatly appreciate your offer. Do you think your immediate ancestor can actually help me secure a work contract at the station?”
Jumper started nodding, but Alan interrupted again before he could respond.
“Don’t get your hopes up too high. His father has never even been to the space station. But you are still much better off coming with us than climbing into these mountains, that’s for sure.”
“Even if my dad can’t get him the job directly, Uncle Brandon can,” Jumper snapped.
“I thought your dad and the prophet weren’t talking to each other,” Alan said.
“Ah, they’ve just been taking a break.” Jumper poked at the fire. “Those two could never stop being friends after all they’ve been through. I bet I can get them to hook up again with only a little push. If not, Uncle Brandon is always happy to see me. I don’t even need Dad. I can take Hol4 to him myself and get him that job.”
“You know the Earth prophet?” Hol4 asked. He suddenly sounded excited.
“Jumper and his dad don’t believe he’s a prophet,” Alan said.
Jumper picked up another rock and aimed at Alan’s head, but managed to regain his composure. He tossed it aside and answered Hol4.
“He’s always just been Uncle Brandon to me. I realize he’s been widely labeled a prophet. My dad says he’s just a human who’s been given more than his share of luck. Personally, I don’t know—and don’t really care, to be honest, although I’ll admit I remain unconvinced that prophets are real.”
“There’s supposed to be a new Sheen prophet,” Hol4 said.
“Yes, so we’ve heard.” Jumper put another piece of wood on the fire. “A Banorian Sheen. But he abandoned Tora before I was even born.”
“That’s strange,” Alan said in a different voice. Jumper saw he was looking at the sky again.
“What’s strange?”
“The moving light.”
Jumper looked up. There was now a large, bright object of some sort slowly approaching the light from Cardinal-4. It was too big for a spaceship, and too slow for a meteor. The three of them watched as it continued moving toward the space station until finally the two lights merged, brightening momentarily. Then all appeared normal again with Cardinal-4.
“No,” Hol4 said as they were all still watching the sky. “A new Sheen prophet. Right here, in the lowlands where I …used to work. One of the red order.”
Jumper looked back at Hol4. “What do you mean, red order?”
“The red Sheen. One of the red Sheen is a new prophet. That’s what we hear, at least. His camp is just outside the southernmost tents, at the edge of the central valley. He has a special new name, a title of some sort, which slips my mind at the moment. They say he’s preparing the way for a great interstellar gathering. The old Erob coalition members will come, and there will be a new era of peace and prosperity.”
“I’ve never heard of a red Sheen order,” Jumper mused.
Hol4 nodded. “Yes, I guess they’re a new sect.”
“Since when do native Torians pay much attention to what any Sheen say?” Alan asked.
Hol4 pointed to the north. “In the agritent camps we have few forms of recreation. We feed on whatever news, stories, or rumors we can get in the current age—especially those which offer hope.” He looked up at the night sky again. “I remember having hope when I was younger. I was a technology student, the best in my class, and was going to make a living working on important projects that would better our worlds. That was before the fall, before the game came. All that education and I ended up picking fruit.”
The conversation began to lag as the campfire receded. Alan fell asleep first. Hol4 seemed more relaxed when the firelight had dimmed. Jumper put a fresh pile of cortzye stones on the coals to make sure the warmth would continue through the night and dozed off while lying on his side. The float suit was thicker than the usual climate-controlled outfits he and Alan usually wore, but only a little uncomfortable to stretch out in.
A few of the stones were still hot when Jumper awoke in the predawn, so he went to refill the water pouches in the gray light. When he returned, the sun was peeking over the top of the western horizon. How strange it must be on Earth having sunrises in the east. Alan and Hol4 were stirring and stretching. Jumper sanitized their water again and they consumed the last of the dry fish for breakfast.
“How are we going to get back to the cities?” Alan asked. “We need transportation.”
“I’m sure one of the Midlands patrols will take us to the out-towns, if we can find one,” Jumper replied. But he knew that might not be so easy, and they had quite a hike to even get to the Midlands.
Hol4 looked concerned. “How far is it if we have to walk?”
“Too far,” Jumper and Alan said in unison.
“Days,” Jumper added. “And we’re out of food.”
“Can’t we go south along the base of these mountains?” Hol4 asked. “Then pick up the Ireden range and head west from there? At least we’ll have a water supply that way, and I’ll wager the two of you can find natural food sources.”
Jumper scratched his chin. “He does have a point, there.”
Alan objected. “Jumper, it’s at least two days longer if we do it that way, maybe three—as we’ll be travelling survival-style. And our parents will be getting concerned.”
“You have good point, too. And all we need to do is find someone with a transmitter, to get a message back to the colony. Kayla or Marvin will probably come out to get us.”
Alan shook his head. “Not if we’re past the out-towns. None of our friends have spines.”
“I think I can get them to come,” Jumper said. But at that moment he saw a dust cloud moving in their direction from the northwest. “Or maybe we won’t have to.”
Alan and Hol4 turned their heads at that comment and saw the dust. It was approaching fast. Hol4 then broke into a sprint and ran up into the hills.
“What’s the matter?” Jumper called after him.
Within a few minutes, the vehicle responsible for kicking up the dust was in full view. It was a long-range off-trail cruiser, the large model. Six natives were in it, but they still had room for several more. Jumper could see at least two of them holding rifles.
“Those things are so cool,” Alan said. “Look how far off the ground it hovers, and can climb over uneven terrain. We’ve got to get one of those.”
“The cruiser is cool,” Jumper said, “but are the passengers? They’re heavily armed, and they scared off Hol4 for some reason. Come to think of it, he was nervously looking off in that direction all night.”
Alan glanced up the hill where Hol4 had now vanished beyond the brush line. “I guess we’re about to find out.”
The rugged hovercraft climbed right up the slope over rocks, fallen trees, and small depressions without slowing until it reached them. It was a canvas-top type, but the top was not attached this morning, exposing the upper frame.
“So cool,” Alan said.
The vehicle stopped right next to them—but before it could lower, four Amulites jumped out—including the two with the rifles—and hit the ground running. They scrambled up the hills the way Hol4 had gone without bothering to acknowledge Jumper and Alan.
When the cruiser was settled on the ground with the engine off, the remaining two natives, also both Amulites, stepped out.
“What’s going on?” Jumper asked. He then noticed the emblem on the side of the cruiser, which looked like two sickles crossed. “You’re with the Northern Militia?”
“That’s right,” the one who had been in the front passenger seat said. “I’m Captain Musin3. What are two Earthlings doing in these foothills?” He looked at their campfire remains. “You slept here?”
“Yes,” Jumper said. “We hiked into the mountains yesterday, on a university project. We left our cruiser here, but when we came back it was gone. Did you take it?”
Musin3 ignored his question. “You were aiding the fugitive?”
“Fugitive? We don’t know anybody out here. What about our cruiser? We’re stranded now.”
“Jumper,” Alan said, directing his attention up the hillside. The other four Amulites were now escorting Hol4 back down. One of them was leveling his rifle towards him. Hol4 looked dejected. Jumper turned back to Musin3.
“Why is he a fugitive?”
“He broke from the settlement and ran. Him and one other, still under work contracts. Aiding fugitives is a crime.”
“We don’t know him,” Alan said. “He was here where we left our cruiser. It was stolen, and night was falling—so we shared our camp with him. That’s all.”
Jumper scowled at Alan. Talk about being spineless.
“How is it possible for a Torian to be a fugitive?” Jumper asked. “Work contract? If he wants to quit and go work somewhere else, why is that any of your concern? Hol4 is with us now. We’ll hook him up with new work—work he enjoys.”
The driver of the vehicle stepped back inside and sat on top of the driver’s seat with his head above the roof frame.
“Captain,” he said. “If the fugitive is now ‘with’ these Earthlings, perhaps the Earthlings should be with the fugitive.”
“Good idea,” Musin3 said. He pointed to Jumper and Alan, then to the back of the cruiser.
“You need transportation? Get in.”
Alan stepped backwards and opened his mouth to say something, which caused Musin3 to step towards him and the driver to reach for something down on the seat.
But Jumper immediately hopped on board and sat in the back row. These militia guys didn’t scare him, and he wanted to see where they were taking Hol4.
“Come on Alan,” Jumper said. “We do need a ride.” That caused the captain and the driver to stop their movements.
Alan reluctantly climbed inside the big hovercraft. “I hope we don’t end up seeing more of the planet than we want to,” he grumbled.
The armed procession returned and came around the far side of the cruiser. Two of them pushed Hol4 into the back seat with Jumper and Alan. Hol4 placed his head in his hands. Jumper patted his shoulder and said, “Don’t worry.” It had no noticeable effect on him.
The pungent smell of fuel filled the air as the cruiser started up again, lifted, turned, and came down from the slopes. When it was back on flat ground, it accelerated smoothly. They were soon speeding across the plain impressively.
“Yeah,” Jumper said to Alan. “We do need to get one of these babies.”
Alan leaned towards Jumper. In a low voice he said, “Maybe this one.”
Jumper smiled broadly. Now that’s the Alan he liked so much; his best friend.
Chapter Two
Jumper was excited to travel farther north than he had ever been. Alan, not so much. He became visibly more apprehensive the further they went. Hol4 was looking downright depressed sitting next to Jumper and wasn’t talking at all. The landscape gradually changed as they crossed a swamp, grassy fields, and finally a river before a compound came into view. Jumper immediately noticed it was laser-fenced. Behind the fence line, a vast complex of huge greenhouses stretched to the northern horizon. Those must be the agritents.
“Wow,” Jumper said. “Look at this place. It’s like a military base.”
“This is the southern boundary,” Hol4 said, finally looking up. “It’s fenced and patrolled. If they spent half the energy helping us in the tents as they do keeping us penned up, food production would probably double.”
“You aren’t allowed to leave?” Jumper asked. “Because of a work contract you entered?”
Hol4 laughed bitterly. “Entered, right. As though I had a choice. This is why you remnant city residents still have food shipments coming in. But of course, most of it goes to the Central Region so they can keep the games going. You Earthlings are fortunate, as you still have choices, decisions that can direct your lives in various directions. For modern native Continent-3 Amulites, if you’re not a consumer—a player—then you must carry their burden. It’s a heavy load, to work all day to provide for the consumers, who do nothing productive themselves.”
“Can’t you get out of this work contract?” Jumper asked.
Hol4 pointed back in the direction they just came from. “I tried, and you are witnessing the result. Now I will be given the most grievous assignments, to assure I never have the energy to run again.”
“This isn’t right,” Jumper said. “It sounds like something we learned about from the olden times on Earth, called slavery. Tora is a free society—both worlds. You shouldn’t have to work where you don’t want to.”
“Used to be a free society. I lament over Amulen’s great loss. We didn’t protect what we had, and now we’ve lost everything.” Hol4 sunk his head again.
The big cruiser entered the compound through an opening in the high laser fences and stopped next to three huge white cylinders, a fueling station. Jumper looked up at the fences as they passed. Laser beams connected tall metal conductor poles at intervals too tight for the natives to squeeze through. But young humans might be able to do it.
Captain Musin3 ordered everyone out of the vehicle. Two of the armed Amulites began leading Hol4 away towards a group of small huts. Jumper ran after them.
“Wait! Where are you taking him?”
They stopped and turned around. Hol4 motioned for Jumper to go back with his hands. He looked concerned. Jumper glanced behind him. The driver, still at the fueling station, said something to Captain Musin3—who then shouted, “Take the Earthlings, too!”
One of the two remaining guards at the cruiser, the biggest and dullest-skinned one, grabbed Alan by the upper arm and forcefully escorted him to where Jumper was standing. When he got there, he pushed him. Alan stumbled.
“Let’s go,” the big guard said. The other remaining guard followed from behind and joined him, blocking their retreat.
“It’s okay,” Jumper said to Alan. “You know we can outrun any natives, especially big cumbersome brutes like these guys.”
One of them shoved Jumper in the back at that remark. They all began walking up the incline. Hol4 was between the two guards in front. Jumper and Alan were in the middle, with the other two guards behind them.
Hol4 turned his head back to Jumper. “You shouldn’t have run after me.”
One of the guards next to him hit him on the shoulder with the butt of his rifle. “No more talking!”
Alan grumbled something Jumper couldn’t hear and was recompensed with another shove in the back. They stopped talking, but Jumper found himself wanting to hurt these Northern Militia men. They needed to learn a little lesson in respect, one punctuated by pain. That was a new feeling, and a strange one. Jumper couldn’t remember ever wishing harm upon Torians before.
They were led to a table in the middle of the huts which had produce laid out on it, various root vegetables and small melons. The guards told Jumper and Alan to eat while Hol4 was taken into a hut. Jum
per was hungry. He and Alan complied with the request. The produce was wonderfully fresh and delicious. Alan was bolting it down ravenously when Hol4 reappeared, wearing a new metallic band around one of his ankles. The guards who had taken Hol4 inside gave the three of them some dried meat along with canteens of water.
Jumper, Alan, and Hol4 were then led out from among the huts over the open ground towards the closest agritent.
“I think this is dog,” Alan said as he chewed some of the meat.
Jumper took a bite. “Yeah. Not bad.”
The agritent compound reached beyond the north and northeast horizons. To the immediate left grew a thicket of woods. Small residential tents were erected between the trees and the huge greenhouses, wherever there was room for them. Those had to be where the workers slept. Living conditions did not look enjoyable at all. Jumper could see why Hol4 chose to escape.
The greenhouses themselves were impressive. Three stories high, wide and deep, clear moriglass tops with fine green screen sidewalls. Inside, many natives could be seen working. The closest one housed tri-pyrus trees, as far as Jumper could see into it, which bore three different varietals depending on the season. Jumper’s dad called them all pears, but the locals had different names for each fruit. This type of tree was highly productive and always had something ripening. The workers in the tents moved ladders and portable staircases about harvesting, pruning, fertilizing, and performing irrigation line maintenance. Tending tri-pyrus trees was a never-ending job, as the optimal harvest time for each piece of fruit was a window of only a few days.
The guards shoved Hol4 inside the doorway of first tent, where an Amulite wearing a thin black neck collar ran over to greet him.
“That must be a scientist,” Jumper said to Alan. The scientist bent down and inspected Hol4’s anklet, nodded and directed him towards the middle row of trees.
“Hol4!” Jumper shouted while pressing his hands and face against the screen. “We’ll be back for you! I’ll get you that space station job, and we’ll come back and rescue you from this place!”