RABAN (The Rabanian Book 2)

by Dan Haronian

  "No," said Naan. His thoughts wandered for a second. "As you know Silor thinks that the scrambler is a Desertian." He looked at Thesh. "Probably someone Raban trained."

  "A young Desertian called Sonny," said Thesh. "Silor says the Desertian call him the fortunate son."

  Naan grinned.

  "I don't know who he is. Only that we have never seen a Desertian scrambling information in Seragon."

  "He didn't scramble information Seragon. It was a failed attempt that we need to root out before it spreads. What is Seragon is saying about this?"

  "I'm not sure yet. They’re making a lot of noise but they are still saying that nothing was scrambled or stolen. Like you said, it was a failed attempt, not much different than the hundreds of other attempts happening everyday there."

  "What do they want?"

  "They want us to clear this thing up and give them an explanation."

  Naan looked at him. "And that seems odd to you?"

  "Yes, a little."

  "Why? If someone from Naan had scrambled information here wouldn't you have called me immediately to verify what had happened?"

  Thesh nodded.

  "Still there's a big difference," continued Naan. "If someone from Naan tried to do something like this on Mampas you would want to step in and stop him. You would do things to him that would make even his enemies protest."

  Thesh looked at the screen beside his desk. He twisted his neck and the large screen on the wall to his right turned on. "I asked Silor to send the details about this Desertian. This is what I received an hour ago."

  Naan walked towards the screen, and frowned. "Is this a joke?" he chuckled. "What kind of picture is this? His head is covered with bandages and his entire face is slathered with white paste."

  "He was one of the few survivors of Base 33," said Thesh.

  "So what? Is this the only picture they have?"

  "I don't know. I’ve been trying all morning to get in touch with Silor about this picture, but apparently he's busy with other issues."

  Naan shook his head in agitation.

  "Silor says that he suffered a major head injury," continued Thesh. "He lost his memory and forgot who he is."

  Naan laughed. "Do you believe this nonsense? He doesn't remember who he is, but remembers quite well how to scramble information?"

  "Well, like you said he didn't succeed in the end," said Thesh.

  "Still, someone probably knows who he is. What about his family? I assume they came to identify the lucky survivors."

  Thesh scratched his head. "Silor didn't have any details. He also said that this guy stutters like crazy, but I don't know if it's related."

  "He stutters," said Naan, and shook his head in contempt. "Don't let any of this confuse you. The most dangerous scramblers are either blind or crippled or mentally ill like my uncle. Their control over the network is like a sensory compensation."

  Naan continued looking at Raban's picture. There was something familiar in the tortured face. "Where is he now?" he asked.

  Thesh turned to him. "With any luck we eliminated him when we razed their other bases."

  "Do you have proof?"

  "Proof?" asked Thesh. "They were annihilated. They are nothing but scorched sand."

  "And yet there were survivors from Base 33. We can’t make assumptions. We need to verify that he's dead."

  "Silor’s people are there. From what I know, they didn’t find any survivors."

  Naan walked back to the window thinking of Raban. He had been removed in a similar attack. Except for the fact that he had not popped up anywhere, there was no proof he was actually dead. He remembered how they’d dragged him across the sand like a limp rag and decided that there was no comparison. This stutterer was an active soldier, a scholar of war and a rebel. Raban was a weakling.

  "Now that I think about this, it would've probably been better if we had caught him," said Thesh. "We could have interrogated him and found out how they managed to scramble their way into Seragon and how they were able to develop such scrambling skills in the desert."

  "It was probably Raban who taught them," said Naan contemplating. "What about Silor, what does he have to say about all this?"

  Thesh sighed again. "Silor was just as surprised as we were. I know he's trying to figure out how they did it."

  "We are missing something here," said Naan. He was sure that Raban had had nothing to do with this scrambling event. "Someone trying to scramble information in Seragon is not a trivial thing. Why doesn’t Silor know anything about this? Why didn't he know about this guy?"

  "You think Silor is hiding something? After all he was the one who told us about this rebel, Sonny. Without his information we would still be looking for him all over Mampas."

  Naan walked deeper into the room contemplating the question. "Or maybe this stutterer is Silor’s invention."

  "Silor is no traitor."

  "You mean he's not a double agent."

  "Silor acts according to his ideology. He's cooperating with us because he thinks it will lead to progress for the rebels."

  "Either way, we need to find out the truth. If this stutterer is real, and we know that the scrambling attack originated with him, we need to make sure he is dead. We need to know that this scrambling episode will not repeat itself. If Silor has betrayed us and he's hiding this scrambler then we need to know that as soon as possible. Look what happened in Naan. After thirty years we now need to reeducate half of the population. That won't be easy. These sorts of things should be stopped right at the beginning."

  Thesh gazed at the screen again. "You’ve been talking about the scramblers in Naan since I've known you. But I never saw them do any damage."

  Naan smiled. "You think you are the only one with a Fear Balance? They know they'll have to pay heavily if they try anything. In any case, it doesn't matter now. We can finally set new rules on Naan."

  An hour later I climbed back down into the crater with a makeshift torch. I carried a small sack with additional materials to build a fire.

  "I had to wa-wa-walk a long way to find what I ne-ne-needed," I said wiping the sweat from my forehead.

  She helped me empty the sack and we started a small fire close to the crater.

  "We ne-ne-need to keep the fire go-go-going so I won't have to go outside a-a-again."

  "I hope we won’t have to worry about it for very long. I don’t want to stay here," she said.

  I moved the burning plastic torch forward. "Are you ready?"

  "Let's go," she said and we started down the corridor adjacent to the wall on our right. I shifted the torch to my left hand but the darkness only swallowed its light. There was a feeling of great depth in the blackness. The roof of the corridor had collapsed in places and we had to squeeze through gaps in the debris to reach its end. I cleared away the rubble from the area where May-Thor estimated the door of the storage room should be. A cloud of dust rose into the air and joined the smoke from the plastic torch. Soon it was hard to breathe and we had to retreat back through the wreckage to catch our breath.

  "The door should be on the right side of the room," she said between coughing breaths. "There's no other way. We must do it," she said when her coughing subsided.

  I removed my shirt and tore it into two long strips and gave her one. I tied the strip over my face just below my eyes. “It do-do-doesn't smell so great, bu-but it's better than b-b-breathing the smoke," I said.

  May-Thor took two deep breaths, and then tied the strip over her nose and mouth. She turned around and walked back into the darkness.

  A little while later we managed to dig down to the floor of the room. It took us much longer to locate the door to the storage area. I don't know how many times we had to leave our work to return to the clearer air of the crater. Congestion filled my throat. I assumed the same was true for May-Thor.

  "Maybe we should try again tomorrow," she said after we had finally unearthed the door.

  "Yes, le-le-let's go back to the
c-c-crater and rest," I said and she nodded.

  I helped her through the wreckage and we made our way back to the crater. We were black and dusty from head to foot and we only now realized it. I opened a container and we cleaned our faces with the liquid within. Only two containers remained. May-Thor had found a knife and a fork on the kitchen floor and our meal beside the crater was a bit more civilized than the last. We ate quietly until she suddenly smiled to herself. She immediately stopped.

  "What is it?” I asked.

  "Nothing," she said immediately serious. She looked at me and it was clear she was still doing her best not to laugh.

  "Wh-Wh-What's so funny?"

  She nodded her head. "I just remembered how you went back into the gambling hall wobbling like a drunk."

  "Yes I played th-th-that part well," I said.

  "In other circumstances I think I would have rolled on the floor laughing."

  I nodded. "In other ci-ci-circumstances I wouldn't have co-come back."

  She looked at me and her smile died. "Why did you come back?"

  I looked at her. "I wa-wa-wanted to know that you were o-o-okay."

  "Really?"

  "I wo-wo-wouldn't have let them to-to-touch you."

  She chuckled. "What would you have done? Jumped on them?"

  I shrugged my shoulders. "I do-don't know. Maybe I wo-would have gone to the first te-te-terminal and created an electrical sho-short that would've started a fire. The s-s-sprinkler system would have caused e-e-enough chaos that we could have e-e-escaped. If that didn’t work I would've set the ho-hotel on fire."

  She raised her eyebrows.

  "And if that didn’t work I could have killed the po-power to the whole city."

  "Okay I get it," she said, and her look became serious.

  "I could also have called them th-th-through the ne-network and disguised my voice. It would have been easy to match up my words with the speech pa-patterns of their su-su-superior, and then ordered them to leave you a-alone. Maybe that would've been simpler."

  "Does their boss stutter?" she asked.

  I shook my head. She leaned her head back on the concrete behind her and closed her eyes.

  "Why did you l-l-lie for me?" I asked.

  "I lied?" she said opening her eyes.

  "You said I was b-b-breaking into the Itgass da-da-database."

  "It was the only thing that came to mind. I wanted to stop you."

  "You wa-wa-want them to th-th-think I was u-u-useless."

  She didn't respond. I thought it was a quite clever tactic.

  "I don't su-su-suppose you want to know what I was re-re-really doing?"

  "I’d rather not know because it won't lead to anything."

  We were exhausted but after May-Thor's answer, an oppressive silence descended. She got up and disappeared into the darkness. I knew she’d gone back to the storage room. I lit the torch and hurried to follow her. We dug around the door until it was finally possible to clear the edges and get a solid grip. I pulled on it several times until it came loose and fell to the side with a crash. Cool, damp air poured out of the room and I was filled with a sensation of relief. I pushed the torch inside revealing a few stairs leading down. We descended and soon we were ankle deep in water. May-Thor bent down and washed her face.

  "This is a t-t-treasure tr-trove," I said holding the torch high. A tower of boxes was arranged one next to the other in the center of the room. We moved towards them.

  "They're sealed," I said running my hands over them.

  May-Thor coughed heavily. "First things first, see if you can find a better light," she said trying to suppress another cough. "There should be oil lamps somewhere, also flashlights. Look over by the wall."

  I walked to the wall. It was lined with shelves. I trailed a hand along them and moved back towards the stairs. Finally I found several oil lamps close to the entrance. I picked one up. The oil reservoir was full. May-Thor found a box of matches and several dry wicks further along the shelf. I passed one of the wicks through the lamp hole and a few minutes later the room was bathed in a soft golden glow.

  "Well that's progress," May-Thor said as she dropped the torch into the water.

  Before long, we’d lit three additional lamps and the room was as bright as day. It was time to investigate the boxes. The contents of each were listed on the outside of the box. In short order we discovered that we now had food, clothes, goggles, some old communication equipment and a box with several guns, and their appropriate ammunition wrapped with oiled cloths.

  "The o-o-only thing we do-do-don’t have is mo-money," I said. "Do you thi-think there are cr-credit sticks here?"

  She shook her head. "They keep them in the offices."

  "Let's move the-the-these water co-containers. I wouldn't mind a sh-sh-shower."

  Before dawn we were showered and dressed in clean clothes. We sat quietly outside close to the crater’s rim. Although our situation had greatly improved I still felt tense. I was afraid to speak with her. The sky began to gradually lighten and Dion's climbed over the horizon to warm us.

  "Wh-Where should we g-g-go?" I asked.

  She shrugged her shoulders.

  "Maybe we sho-sho-should go back to the b-b-base."

  "I doubt anyone survived." She looked at me. "Poor Nout-Thor."

  "We don't know that they are all de-de-dead. There might be su-su-survivors. Maybe someone came to he-he-help."

  "It doesn't matter. I don't know of anything else closer. We have no other choice but to check the place."

  "Do you need more rest or are you ready to move."

  "Rest?" she wondered. "I could sleep for several days, but we don't have that kind of time to spare. If someone did survive at the base they won't stay there for long."

  An hour later we were on our way. I carried the food and May-Thor the water. A light wind was blowing and the walk was much more pleasant than the trip over, despite the sand it sent into the air. We spotted the base just before the nightfall. Smoke was still rising from the ground here too, and the sand had also been turned to glass. When we were close enough I noticed a hovercraft. I pulled May-Thor down hoping we hadn’t been seen.

  "C-Can you i-i-identify them?"

  May-Thor squinted into the distance and shook her head. "No, it's too far."

  A small dune was just ahead of us and to our right. We rushed over to it.

  "I do-don't see any pe-pe-people down there."

  "Maybe they're below."

  "Wait here. I'll go ge-ge-get that ho-ho-hovercraft."

  "You want to steal it?"

  I looked at her. I couldn’t understand what was wrong in my plan. "Do-Do-Don’t you want to g-g-get out of here?"

  "Yes, but maybe it's one of ours. I'm not stealing something that is ours."

  "We need transportation and that ho-ho-hovercraft is our only option," I said. I didn't really have any plan, but I didn't want to fall into the Desertians’ hands. I was thinking about getting to Mampas or some smaller city. I needed time to think even though I knew it would be hard to avoid the rebels.

  I laid flat on the sand and started to crawl towards the hovercraft. I was there in only a few minutes. No one was there. I jumped in and lifted off, then hovered quickly back to May-Thor.

  "Come on," I shouted when I stopped beside the dune, but she didn’t move. She was staring at something behind me. I turned around and saw three people running towards us. One of them shouted at us with a thick Desertian accent. After a few more steps he pulled out a gun.

  "Come on," I shouted again.

  She shook her head. "They are Desertians," she said. "I'm not running away from my own people," she added angrily.

  I hesitated. I look back again and then looked at her.

  She covered her face with her hands and started to cry.

  I looked back again. They were still far enough away for me to force her into the hovercraft. She would have been furious, but I thought that maybe I could knock her out. That I cou
ld even have such a thought seemed completely ridiculous. I looked at her and sighed. I disconnected the seatbelt and got out of the hovercraft.

  "You can escape if you want to," she said looking at me.

  I didn't answer. I watched the people approach. They stopped running as they came closer. May-Thor raised her hands and when they were close enough she called out to them, "We are Desertians, we thought you were Mampasian."

  They stopped a short distance from us. "Who are you?" asked the guy with a gun, breathing heavily.

  "I’m May-Thor, and this is Sonny," she said. "We are survivors from this base."

  He gave his friends a surprised look and gripped the gun more tightly.

  "Are you armed?" he asked looking at me.

  I pulled a gun from the back of my waistband and threw it on the sand.

  "We didn't know," May-Thor said again. "We thought you were Mampasian."

  "So you are Sonny," said the man with a gun, ignoring her.

  I looked at him.

  "And somehow you survived this attack too," he said. He turned to one of the men. "Notify headquarters that a unique package has been found at Base 6."

  Wrinkles appeared on May-Thor’s forehead. "Were there additional strikes?"

  He looked at her. "They wiped out three additional Bases: 7, 77, and 29."

  He stepped forward and prodded her with the barrel of the gun, forcing her towards the two people behind him. He motioned with the gun to the front door of the hovercraft. I raised my hands and walked over to it.

  "Get inside and strap yourself in," he said.

  I followed his orders. The door behind me opened and the other two people sat May-Thor between them. The man with the gun climbed into the pilot's seat beside me. He placed the gun in a holster on his door then buckled himself in. He smiled up at me and looked back to make sure everyone was ready, then lifted us from the sand.

  The hovercraft didn't fly very high from the surface. I thought they were taking us to a nearby base, and I wondered what was going to happen to May-Thor. If they decided that she’d had a hand in the attack, she’d be executed. She had returned immediately to the base when the mission was compromised. She’d made it clear to me she would not help me, but I doubt they knew these details. Nout-Thor, Zariss, Solay-Han, and Rover-Han had known, but they were all probably dead. I looked back at her. Weariness overwhelmed her, and she did nothing but gaze at the view in front of her as if thinking of how close they were to the ground.