by Andy Kasch
“I heard what you guys said. He’s organizing a new government with himself placed above it, in a high throne seat or something, at a time when the country is poor and vulnerable. That’s what Stalin did—not to mention Chairman Mao, Hitler, and that evil oppressor Jimmie Carter.”
Brandon laughed. “Your problem, Rupert, is when you start to make a statement that has a ring of credibility to it you completely destroy it by adding something crazy-sounding at the end. If you could just cut that part out, people might take you seriously.”
Brandon landed the shuttle. He and Alan exited the cockpit, then came around and opened the cabin door. Rupert extended his feet, still in gravity shoes, and scooted himself down. What his stocky physique lacked in agility it made up for in characterization, and went well his blonde beard.
“Wow, an old-fashioned alien village,” Rupert said. “Listen Brandon, I want to thank you for bringing me with you, and for all your other help. You’re the only one who listens to me in this place. Those other guys, and the alien scientists—well if it wasn’t for you, I don’t even want to know what they would have done to me.”
“I keep telling you, nothing bad would have happened.” Brandon patted Rupert on the back. “I’ve been living here 25 years, so trust me. The aliens are not out to get us. We have friends. I understand why you’re angry. Heck, I was angry in the beginning, too. It takes some of us longer to adjust.”
The three of them didn’t bother to close the shuttle cabin door and strolled into the village. When they reached the first fire pit area, Brandon could instantly tell Jumper was upset.
“Where are they all?” Brandon asked Jumper. “Have they been transported already?”
Jumper slowly shook his head as he formed a look of disgust. “This is all of them,” he said. “Eleven only. And two of them only wanted a short vacation, so will be returning. I just can’t …understand it.”
Brandon cocked his head. “Did Belle-ub give you full access? Did you travel all the way to the north?”
“Yes, yes,” Jumper said. “In the last three days, I’ve been to every agritent and spoken to every worker. Mostly it was organized in assemblies. We erected platforms in the different regions and the workers from five or six tents would all come out at once and listen to me talk. Then the foreman for that section would stand up after me and confirm that what I just said was truth, and assure them there was nothing to fear. We made it perfectly clear that anyone who wanted to terminate their work contract early was free to do so, and would be provided transportation anywhere they wished on Amulen.”
“You spoke to them all?” Brandon asked.
“All.”
“How many agritent workers are there?”
“More than 150,000.”
“And only eleven accepted the offer of freedom?” Alan said.
“Really only nine.” Jumper looked Alan up and down. “How are you doing?”
“Never better.” Alan pulled on his new necklace until the mounted quarner stone came up and out of his collar. “Got my piece of the rock made into a chain. Now it’s next to my heart.”
“That looks heavy,” Jumper said. “And jewelry is for girls.”
Alan’s expression turned defensive and he dropped the chain back under his shirt. “Brandon says men on Earth in his time wore all kinds of jewelry, including neck chains.”
“It’s true,” Brandon said. “In the year 2012, Alan’s new necklace would have fallen under a category of men’s jewelry known as bling.”
Jumper, Alan, and Rupert only stared at Brandon in response. Finally, Jumper spoke again.
“Uncle Brandon, you know he thinks it’s a good luck charm, believes it has magic powers or something. I thought you were against that kind of thing.”
Brandon looked at Alan and raised his eyebrows. “Is that true?”
“Charm?” Alan scoffed. “No. This is a genuine piece of the pillar of the law. No one else has this. I don’t think it has magic powers. But even you admit that thing at Landen has some kind of power, Brandon—and we were told this part breaking off for me like it did was a physical impossibility. You can all think what you want, but I’m keeping it with me so I don’t lose it. You’d understand if you’d been there, Jumper. But you were busy being a freedom fighter, so you could rescue a whole nine slaves out of 150,000.”
Jumper gritted his teeth and turned to Brandon. “I suppose Kayla stayed home to play with her cat?”
Brandon nodded. “They’re inseparable. She didn’t even ask if she could come.”
Two natives then approached Jumper from the side and shook hands with him. One of them spoke.
“They’re taking us across the valley now. Thank you for helping us.”
“My pleasure,” Jumper said. But it didn’t sound to Brandon like he really meant it. He was cordial enough, though, and wished them luck. Those two natives then followed another one out of the village to where their ride was waiting.
“So what do you think happened?” Brandon asked Jumper. “Why didn’t more of them respond to your offer? Were they not really slaves, after all?”
“I don’t know, Uncle Brandon. You heard Hol4 talk. He said they all stood around complaining about their work contracts every night. Then I show up and offer them the opportunity to be legally released, and they don’t take it. Maybe I’m not such a good speaker. Or maybe Belle-ub threatened them all ahead of time, and only eleven of them didn’t get the message.”
“Hmm,” Brandon said. “That seems unlikely. But it reminds me of something. Back in America, lots of people complained about their jobs. It was a totally free society, you understand. Anyone could quit their job any time they wanted and go find a new one they liked better. One thing I noticed was the people who complained the loudest were usually the least likely to do that. They were the ones who tended to stay at the job they didn’t like and just keep complaining about it. When it came right down to it, their fear of abandoning familiarity was more powerful than their will to improve their lives.”
“That’s different,” Jumper said. “You’re talking about people who were already free. These natives were all duped into a long-term contract, according to Hol4, and found out later the conditions sucked. But they’re trapped in their contracts. So why wouldn’t they accept the opportunity to get out of it?” Jumper’s tone of voice revealed extreme aggravation. He began walking in circles as he continued to speak.
“Not that I understand those Earth people sticking with a job they don’t like, either, when they don’t have to. Why do some intelligent beings not value their freedom?”
Rupert suddenly said, “Because they never had to fight for it.”
Jumper, Alan, and Brandon all looked at Rupert. Brandon was happy when Rupert didn’t add anything more.
“Jumper, this is Rupert,” Brandon said. “A brand new, first-generation Torian Earthling.”
“Pleased to meet you.” Jumper extended his hand and they shook.
Jumper turned back to Brandon and said, “Well, how did that go?”
Brandon rubbed his chin. “Reasonably well. We had no more trouble with local insurgents. All five of the newly-revived humans made it through the initial shock easier than your dad and I did. I think it helps to have mixed genders. They’re still having trust issues, which is normal—especially Rupert here. That’s why I volunteered to watch over him for a bit.”
“So RL-71 is secure now?” Jumper asked.
“Yep. All locked up tight again. Professor Yob3 started several new microbial cultures, but it’ll be many years before they’re developed enough to try and use. He says it’s all we can do for now, save for one other remote hope.” Brandon then motioned for Jumper to look behind him, because four of the other natives were now standing at his back.
Jumper turned to talk to them. They had come to thank Jumper before being taken to the airfield, where a rotorcraft would transport them towards their own chosen destinations. When they left, Brandon noticed that three addi
tional former agritent workers joined them. Those other three didn’t even bother to come over and thank Jumper before leaving.
Jumper turned back to Brandon. “The last two are coming with us, Uncle Brandon. One has friends in the cities, and the other—well, we’ll have to make a quick stop on the way, unless I can talk him out of it.”
“That’s fine,” Brandon said. “We can leave whenever you’re ready.”
Jumper went over to one of the shacks and called into the doorway. A figure appeared; that of a large, muscular native. He looked at the two remaining former agritent workers and shook Jumper’s hand before vanishing from the doorway again. Jumper then gathered his last two rescued slaves and they all started walking out of the village towards the shuttle.
“Wasn’t that Tolen6?” Alan asked Jumper.
“Yeah. He was the one assigned to organize my tour of the tents. Not such a bad guy once you get to know him.” Jumper then turned and spoke to Rupert.
“Hey Rupert, what did you mean back there when you said they never had to fight for it?”
“Freedom,” Rupert said, “is like, only appreciated by those who must struggle to gain or keep it. Otherwise, people take it for granted. I think this is why freedom has always been tested, all throughout history. You say you tried to free some forced laborers who didn’t appreciate the offer? It was probably too easy for them. Freedom is undeserved of those who haven’t been properly educated of its value.”
Brandon put his hand on Rupert’s shoulder and said, “What an inspired observation. I’m growing fond of you, Rupert. And look how you’re learning to stop—”
“It’s like with those dang aliens on Earth,” Rupert continued. “I’ve been telling people for years that aliens are screwing with us. Kidnapping people, causing power outages, poisoning the ocean. Buddhists, too. Oh, they act all calm and harmless. Until you see them out in front of the airport with their dang tambourines getting ready to accost you. I’ve been warning people for a long time, but they all call me crazy. Can’t get invited to parties anymore. Dang mainstream conformists.”
Brandon withdrew his hand. “Well, you proved them right in the end—about the alien kidnappings, anyway.”
Rupert scratched at the scabs under his ears where his implants were freshly inserted and nodded. He seemed satisfied. That was an improvement in his demeanor, at least.
Jumper spoke again as they approached the shuttle.
“Uncle Brandon, didn’t you say there was one non-human in the infected network at the science labs? What’s that story? Are they a Torian, or some other species?”
“Torian native,” Brandon said. “Yob3 successfully revived as him well, and has returned him to what’s left of Amulen society. Maybe someday I’ll tell you the full story on him. We’ll need a few argims.”
They all boarded the shuttle. Alan took the copilot’s seat again. Brandon launched, but stayed low to the ground. Jumper tried nonstop to dissuade one of the natives in the cabin from his requested dropping point, to no avail.
“Right there,” Alan said, pointing to a trailhead at the base of the mountains. “That’s the spot.”
Brandon landed a short ways from it. Everyone got out.
“Don’t worry about me,” said the native who was leaving. He shook Jumper’s hand. “Durmat1 is an old friend of mine. I knew him when he first said he wanted to start a new mountain community. I declined the invitation and signed on with the tents instead. Won’t he be surprised to see me.”
“All right,” Jumper finally conceded. “Be careful on the trail.” He gave him a hand laser. “And if the locals give you any trouble, mention my name. That might help. Might.”
When he departed towards the trailhead, Jumper came back to the shuttle.
An insect buzzing around caught Brandon’s attention. As Jumper was wrestling Alan away from the copilot’s door, it landed on Jumper. Brandon reached out and picked it off his shoulder.
“Look at this, Alan.”
Alan came closer. “What is it?”
“It’s a flying worm. A very thin flying worm. Do you still think Madkin5’s friend is nuts?”
“Well,” Alan said, “you may want to call that a flying worm, but…”
As Alan was speaking, the wings broke off from the worm and remained in Brandon’s hand. The worm fell to the ground and wiggled. Brandon bent down and picked it up again.
“Now it’s just a worm. This is it, Alan. I saw it close. This is exactly what we pulled out of your skin. Madkin5 said the entomologist in his village was fascinated by it. He thinks it’s a previously unknown species. I know you were skeptical when we received his message the other day. I was, too. To think they find hosts by flying sounds too horrible to be true. But here’s proof of his theory.”
Brandon dropped the worm, stepped on it, and twisted his foot. He then looked about in the air around them, causing everyone else to do the same.
“They discard their wings as they burrow into the host animal,” Brandon said. “I have a strong feeling you picked it up when you were in the mountains, not in the swamp. The swamp water may have caused the worm to hasten in its burrowing.”
“Is that your intuition?” Alan asked.
“Yes. And a logical conclusion. Let’s get out of here.”
Alan, Rupert, and the remaining native climbed back into the shuttle cabin. As Brandon was closing the door on them from the outside, Alan asked him a peculiar question.
“Brandon, when’s the last time you predicted anything?”
Brandon paused. “It’s been a while.” He closed the cabin door and then continued talking only to himself as he walked around the rear of the shuttle. “But I now predict I’ll finally see my greatest desire fulfilled.”
When they were back in the air and headed for home, Jumper spoke to Brandon from the copilot’s seat.
“Flying worm parasites?”
“It appears so,” Brandon said. “And won’t Madkin5’s friend be excited. Here’s a prediction for you: He’s going to insist I come back out here and get more samples to bring him.” Brandon glanced at Jumper as he spoke, failing to hide a smile.
“Can I please come with you on that trip, Uncle Brandon?”
“Well …if you’re not too busy.”
*
Olut6 left his personal guard in the lounge and moved towards Mip7’s office the way a missile streaks towards it target. None of the governor’s assistants dared impede him, or even asked if he wanted to be announced. Some moving objects you simply get out of the way of.
Mip7 must have been tipped off by someone, though, because when Olut6 stormed into his office two full tubes of Redflower-20 were in a rack in the middle of his desk. The bottle sat next to it, available for calls of reinforcements.
Olut6 picked up one of the tubes. Mip7 did the same. They both took their drinks in one swallow before returning the tubes to the rack and sitting down. When the stinging bitterness in his mouth had transformed to a sweet relaxation of his upper torso muscles, Olut6 spoke.
“Damage report?”
“None, General. How’s Banor?”
“A wreck. Civilian casualties are in the thousands. Property damage is incalculable. Very little of it from the last attack, though. All this from only one of those Erob-awful drones.”
Mip7 shook his head. “Were you able to find any parts?”
“We don’t know yet. We’ve gathered significant debris scraps and have the best scientists working on it. The enemy managed to haul away all their damaged ships using those extat bridgeable virtual dags. Same way they brought the attack satellites here. ”
“Still no intelligence reports on the identity of the perpetrators?” Mip7 asked.
“No. I have some ideas. Got the astronomers working on it.” Olut6 reached for the bottle and refilled the tubes.
“Astronomers? Where are you telling them to look?”
“As close to Latia as they can get, and then every recorded advanced race anywhere near th
em.”
They both picked up the refilled tubes and held them at the ready.
“General, it appeared as though the Latians joined the enemy as an opportunistic act. They had no plans on even visiting our system before their conflict with the Dirgs.”
“Yes, that’s the way it looked,” Olut6 said. “And if I were them, I would have wanted it to look that way, too.”
“It might have been the way it was, General.”
“Might have been. Might not. If they are in league, the attackers figure to be a neighbor of theirs. Latians aren’t known for their socializing.” Olut6 threw back his second drink and held on to the empty tube. Mip7 followed.
“How close to Latia can our astronomers get?” Mip7 asked.
“Nowhere near. I’m sending a survey team out.”
Mip7 rested his chin in his hand. “To think we asked them for help.”
“Yeah,” Olut6 grumbled as he put his empty tube back in the rack again. “Someday I’m going to learn to listen to Brandon.”
“You mean about asking the Dirgs for help in the first battle? He was only thinking out loud. If Brandon had a strong feeling about it, he would have persisted with his request.”
“I know,” Olut6 said. “I know. We all thought the Latians were the righteous ones in their dispute, didn’t we? Even Brandon. The Dirg’s are so …repulsive. If Brandon were here now, I’m sure he’d say it is we who acted repulsively in our predisposed biases. We were so blinded by visual prejudice we couldn’t distinguish the difference between our friends and enemies.”
Mip7 smiled. “I’m positive that’s exactly what he would say. It is interesting, though, that the light weapon—whatever or whoever it is—was first seen aiding the Latians, and destroyed a portion of the Dirg fleet in so doing. If the Latians were the ‘bad guys,’ why were they helped by the same force that helped us?”
“Whoever?” Olut6 said.
Mip7 stopped smiling. “Brandon has suspicions that Arkan9’s friend may have been an …an Erob. Sheen are capable of impressive tricks, but an energy of that force…”