by DG SIDNA
"Apparently the entire universe likes cats."
Dinah ponders this a moment, then continues the tour.
There was an innocence to the settlement, one that hid a dark secret that makes me sick and furious. That one man could brainwash so many young women. I can imagine how it all began. A charismatic sociopath, seeking out the most lost and vulnerable girls that he could find, convincing them to sever contact with their families, their lifelines of emotional support.
But how did he pay for a starship to bring them all here? I can imagine that too. He likely used the girls on Earth as drug runners or servants in other illicit activities. Forcing them into criminality only defiled their self worth even further, making his offers of redemption all the more salient.
Once he'd broken their spirits, used their longing for meaning against them, he had total control. Not only did he make them endure the sick perversions of his fantasies and his bed, but he forced them to watch as he mutilated the manhood of their own sons, as he cast out their own children, exiled the most freethinking of their own sisters to near certain death. The holy scriptures of a cosmic pervert.
"Who runs the settlement now?" I ask.
"The New Council," she tells me. "It's mostly wifefolk and the older eunuchs. We don't believe in the teachings no more. Well, maybe some of the older wifefolk do, but they keep their mouths shut. Mama says the future is up to us now. That's why I work hard on my studies. I know all the good plants. Mama is teaching me to be a doctor one day. But I'm thinking maybe I'll join the Council instead. I betchya I'm a born leader."
I smile. How similar we are, me and Dinah, in some small way. Each of us unsure of our path ahead, only knowing that we want to make it into something meaningful. And more than that, we're both adrift in an ocean that we didn't ask to traverse, thrown into a world we didn't ask to inhabit, searching for truths beyond our means to discover.
We pass several women chopping logs near a large woodpile. They are young, either my age or a little older. They whisper and gossip as we pass.
"What are they saying, you think?" I ask my guide.
She grins sheepishly. "I reckon they think you're dressed like a boy."
I look down at my outfit, a light olive sweater under a suede jacket. Though it's likely the tight black jeans and Chelsea boots that have made the biggest impression.
"Don't worry none, Miss Isabel," Dinah says. "Next week they'll all go dressing like you. A real Earth lady! The menfolk around here are going to have to hide their trousers!"
I see a few of those men out in the fields. They're pulling weeds and tilling earth. A few wave to Dinah who waves back. Everyone in the community is well acquainted; it's a world with precious few secrets. Some children are being tended to on the porch of a cabin. Goats bleat nearby.
It's a simple, tragically beautiful world.
An old man with a long beard sits on a favorite stump, smoking a pipe. He's blind as best I can tell. I wonder his role in all this. The Great Father surely had acolytes, loyal male followers, tasked with the role of giving him more daughters to marry. Small slivers of power were surely promised in exchange for total obedience. What was their story? These willing collaborators?
Dinah is waving a long stalk of grass and breaks my train of thought. "Might I ask, Miss Isabel, if you ain't here for us, then why are you here?"
I feel a bit old every time she calls me Miss Isabel. We can't be that far apart in age. But I let it pass.
"I'm looking for a ring, actually," I tell her. "It's silly."
"What kind of ring?"
"A platinum wedding ring."
She reaches into her pocket. "Like this one?"
My heart jumps a beat. She hands me a ring, identical to the one from the future.
I turn it over, there's no inscription.
"I was promised to Father Avshalom when I was six," she explains, while lowering her eyes. "He was the Right Hand of the Great Father. You saw the Left Hand sitting back there on the stump. The ring is a symbol of our union. But now I don't have to wear it no more on account of him and the Great Father being big old liars full of turd shit."
"I'm sorry."
"It's alright. I keep the ring cause, I don't know. When we were little, we was taught the rings protect us from evil. It's the opposite, though, I reckon. Still, some habits, it's hard to beat."
Dark memories are lingering in Dinah's eyes. I don't want to push her any further about the ring, but I have to find the one I'm looking for. And now that I know most of the girls have rings, it may mean Careena and I don't have to go hunting for that crazy little hellion in the woods. After all, I'm looking for a girl named Barbara, not Sapphira.
Dinah looks up. "I can show you where we keep the jewelry if you like. It's here in the temple."
She leads me to a simple chapel. There's a padlock on the door. She opens it with a key from her pocket. "I got a key on account I'm in charge of sweeping the place. We have to keep it locked cause this place is like a gold mine for the swampies. They wear sacred objects to protect themselves from Dave."
I'm about to ask who that is, but the doors open and I see long tables littered with knickknacks and baubles, jewelry and odd items. The chapel seems to have once held service, but now the pews have been pushed against the walls and I get the feeling the room is used mostly for storage.
We walk along the tables. I can't make heads or tails out of the collection of items on the tabletops. There's a row of cheap plastic crosses displayed as if they're holy relics, next a heavy gold chalice being used to prop up a poster of David Bowie. I lift a small bronze bust of Chairman Mao.
"He’s a Divine," Dinah tells me. "Like Baby Jesus and Elvis."
"Right..."
One object does catch my eye, however, hanging off a stone figurine of Ganesha. It's a small hexagram star on a silver chain. The star is set with dozens of tiny diamonds. It twinkles in the light coming through the stain glass window at the head of the chapel.
Dinah sees my interest and whispers mischievously. "You can take it, Miss Isabel. I won't tell no one. Nobody's gonna miss it anyway, I promise you that. They put all this stuff in here cause they don't want to be reminded of the Great Father and his silly Divines."
I'm drawn to the necklace. But I know I can't take it. It might still have some role to play in the future. And it's not why I'm here, regardless. "No, it belongs here, Dinah. The ring I'm looking for, it had an inscription on it. From Ian to Barbara."
The girl thinks a moment. "Well, there ain't no Barbara here, and I'd know. I know everyone. But there is an Ian, he's out in the field. Oh, wait! You know, he married Big Bithiah, but like a love marriage, just last year. We're doing love marriages now, you know. That's what you do on Earth, ain't it? Some of the old wifefolk still call it false marriage, but let me tell you, them days are over, yes sir. And you know what, some of the younger ladies are taking to giving themselves Earth names, since all our names came out of one of the Great Father's stupid scripture books, and we don't want no connection to that no more. I bet you ten baby ducks that Big Bithiah chose Barbara as her new name."
So there it is.
I've solved the fricken case. Me.
I can't help but smile. Isabel Mendelssohn, secret time detective. I could get used to that. Now all I have to do is tell Careena and we can tag the ring and save the damn future.
Dinah looks at me timidly. "I hate to tell you this..."
Uh oh. "What?"
"It's just..."
"What, Dinah?"
"It's just that I don't think Big Bithiah is going to give you her ring. And they don't call her big for nothing."
I wink. "I don't want her ring, Dinah. I just want to shake her hand."
"Well, that there I can probably arrange!"
We head back to Zipporah's cabin. Careena is awake and looking particularly disgruntled as she chats with the doctor. But I have news that's going to brighten her day.
I charge in. "Careena, I'm glad y
ou're awake."
"Believe me, freckles, I wish I could sleep all day. Anyway, Zipporah here was just telling me those little swamp monsters that zapped us have a penchant for nicking rings. We have to go after them."
I smile. "No, it's alright. I found the ring. It's here."
She doesn't seem as pleased at this news as she should be. "You're not listening, blondie. We have to go after them and we have to go right now." She slides out of bed and takes a moment to steady herself. Zipporah holds her by the elbow.
I'm confused. "Why? The ring is here. We can finish this quickly. Minimal interference. Just like you wanted."
She shoots me the most ominous look I've seen on her yet.
"Because deary—that little hussy stole Hecate."
SEVENTEEN
I have seen Careena's ring in action enough to know that Hecate is more than just a marvel of modern engineering, a device capable of spinning cosmic strings through brane-space at such speeds that it manipulates the very curvature of space-time, producing tachyon-tethers to higher dimensional reality, ultimately allowing the wearer to alter the fabric that forms the universe and thereby transcend the barriers of linear existence; she's more than a sophisticated machine able to interface seamlessly with the human mind, able to scan the composition of nearby objects, store terabytes of historical documents, translate a thousand languages, hack computer and security systems at will.
She's also a work of art.
"And one thing she's NOT supposed to do is pop off my forking finger!" Careena snaps.
"She does seem to have been a bit off lately," I note.
Zipporah and Dinah have given us a moment of privacy in the cabin. I'm using this time to calm Careena down. I'm not sure how well my efforts are going.
"I've seen the settlement," I tell her, hoping a change in topic might do the trick.
"And?"
"And I don't think this is scientific research base."
"Really? And what ever gave you that idea, blondie?"
She's mocking me, but I detect a softening in her voice.
I raise my cup of water. "It was the wooden cups, actually."
"Wooden cups..." She shakes her head in defeat. She sighs while putting her wrist to her forehead. "I'm sorry I snapped at you. But you're right. I remember this place now. We learned about it in primary school. It's one of those stories you love as a kid, like the voyages of the Mayflower or the Shackleton Expedition."
"So who are they?"
"Some real unfortunate goobers," she says. "They arrived here on an old, beat-up frigate called the Star of David. As I recall, they'd won the charter for a colony planet, which back then wasn't so hard. The Colonial Federate was giving out charters like candy, trying to grab as much of the galaxy as possible before anyone else out there could. Of course, that never ended up being a problem. We have to practically beg the Thanes to populate colonies."
"But why was the Star of David allowed to come here, of all places?"
"Oh, it wasn't," she explains. "But these nutters knew that even if they applied for the furthest colony they could, it was only a matter of time before the rest of humanity would catch up with them. You see, worlds are independent, to a point. Mandates function like federal unions, overseeing interplanetary trade, territorial disputes, and so on. They're pretty powerless by design, but that doesn't mean they won't intervene when necessary. And each mandate has a basic constitution granting certain human rights. Earth didn't spend trillions of dollars to terraform hundreds of worlds just so a bunch of abusive cults could flourish outside the reach of the law."
"It's looks like they weren't entirely successful," I point out.
"In this case, I suppose not. These blockheads slipped some code into their ship computers, which the inspectors must have missed before letting them leave Sol System. From what I remember, around twenty years into their sixty-year flight, the autopilot jettisoned a bunch of cargo into space. It was all designed to read on long range sensors as the debris of a destroyed ship. They left behind their black box as well, sending out a distress call and some bogus data about an explosion. As far as Earth or the Colonial Federate knew, the Star of David was lost en route. It wasn't unheard of at the time."
"So no one thought to come looking for them," I venture.
"Exactly. They banged a course change around some star and shot off this direction. It was a cute trick, but what they didn't consider is that alien worlds are the subject of a lot of research. They got detected not long after they established their colony here. Problem is, this planet is really, really far from anywhere. It's not like the authorities can just drive by and pick everyone up and take them home. The Colonial Federate realized that from the nearest starbase, they'd have to send a ship and a crew eighteen years each way to get these schnitzelheads. Who wants to volunteer for that mission?"
"So they decided to leave them here?"
"Maybe at first they thought they might," she tells me. "But videos started going around in the media. Interviews with women who had escaped the Great Father's cult before he left Earth. Once his predilections were known, it wasn't so easy to just ignore all those girls he'd taken with him. Their families advocated for their rescue. There was political pressure as well. Leaving them out here might encourage others to attempt the same trick. So something had to be done. The Japanese Star Navy drew the short straw. They have a ship on the way right now. The Yamato, as I recall. Been en route for nearly two decades. It will be here in a few months, and then all this..."
"Comes to end," I realize.
It seemed as if Dinah was going to get her rescue after all, whether she wanted it or not. The way of life here, the future these colonists were forging for themselves, it was all going to be taken from them soon. Perhaps that was for the best.
But I'm still pained at the thought of how hard it will be for them to adjust to a brave new world beyond the stars that they know nothing about, particularly after having only just recently shed their chains of bondage in order to pioneer a destiny of their own. Instead, they were about to become novelties, something schoolchildren like Careena will read about in books one day. It saddens me.
Careena calls out the doorway to the front porch. "Zipporah, we're ready. Can you tell us where to find these swampies?"
Zipporah and Dinah come back inside. It's Dinah who answers with her cheerful enthusiasm. "I can take you. We can trade for your ring back. It shouldn't be no problem. We got things the swampies would give a left arm to have. Like China Jesus."
Zipporah is less enthusiastic. "Dinah, dear, you can't head over the mountains. It ain't safe. And you wouldn't know where to find them. The lands beyond the mountains are vast."
"I'll take Hagen. He knows the way."
"Who is Hagen?" I ask.
Dinah answers. "He was a swampie, but he came back to us. He's older now, my age there abouts. He'll know where to find the others."
Zipporah is still shaking her head. "Hagen can take them if they need it, but I can't let you go. I need you here."
Dinah stomps her foot. "To do what, mama? Pull roots? Milk them old smelly goats? It's the same thing every day. This is my chance to do something important."
"Dinah..."
"I'm going and that's that!" Dinah turns to me. "Meet me at the old shed, the one with the cats. I'll get us food and some spears."
She marches out.
Zipporah attempts a smile. "It's almost enough to make you miss the old fathers. I'm not so sure I can survive this new generation of girls."
I'm still stunned. "Did she say spears?"
"The mountains are home to a few dangerous creatures," Zipporah says. "Hagen will know how to deal with them. You can trust him. Look out for Dinah, will you?"
Careena peers out the doorway. "From the look of that girl, these creatures of yours best watch out for her."
A little while later, Careena and I meet Dinah and Hagen at the shed. Hagen is tall and lanky, perhaps sixteen, with rust-colored hair and
red freckles from chin to hairline. He and Dinah both have backpacks filled with bread, flasks of water, a bedroll and a spear each.
Careena declines her own spear. "If we run across any monsters, luv, just let me and Old Bessie here do the talking."
We set out almost immediately, hoping to reach the base of the mountains, which Dinah calls the Spine of the World, before nightfall. Whole crowds of settlers have come out to see us off. The rumor has spread that Careena and I arrived on a small ship and that the swampies stole our keys, which isn't so far off from the truth.
But that doesn't explain why so many of them are here, at the edge of the village, waiting for us.
My heart breaks as I come to understand. Women come up to me, they fall on their knees, they cry and they plead. They've heard where we're going and they're begging us to bring back the swampies.
These are the mothers.
In anguish they try to hand me small toys and old blankets, anything they still possess that might prove to their sons that their mothers never failed in loving them, even while they stood silently by and watched as the Great Father sent them away into exile.
I try to cover my own tears as I'm forced to decline the objects.
I want to blame them for what they have done, but I can't. Most were children themselves at the time, brides at six or seven, mothers at fifteen. This way of life was all they ever knew and they were promised it was righteous and pure, that they had been saved from the salacious and sinful cultures of Old Earth.
Knots form in my stomach knowing how these women were shamed by the very people entrusted to care for them, how they were told it was a religious obligation to abandon these little boys, and how, even worse, it was their fault, it was their dereliction of faith, that had caused them to birth too many males to begin with.
I can't imagine the crushing burden of that guilt. And now all that these women want is for their sons to return and to hope beyond hope that they can be forgiven.
It is with a heavy heart that we depart Nyssa.