“I think I’d prefer to have a government that holds out examples of great achievements and inspires people to exceed them. If the Congress of Representatives or the Guardians are afraid to do that, we need a change in leadership.”
Garrison held up both hands and said in a low voice, “I wouldn’t repeat that anywhere outside of this room.”
Logan realized he had gone too far, much farther than he had ever openly stated before. He had contradicted sacred doctrine which had been ground into him since he was a small boy. He’d been told again and again that the only thing standing between social order and the chaos of the past, the chaos that still gripped the middle of the continent, was a strong government and a unified people. To cut at the roots of this great social compact was to risk everything that had been achieved since the founding of the People’s Republic. How many times had he repeated the final line of the national pledge, we are one people, one nation? Probably every day since he was six.
Garrison silently observed Logan for a few heartbeats. Then he said, “Everything I have said is pure speculation, you understand. It’s a fringe theory. But if you want to explore this further, there is just one approved text that I am aware of. It was published about fifteen years ago but has not been digitized so you can’t get it off the net. However, the Central Library has a hardcopy in the reserve section.
Garrison opened his drawer and retrieved a pen and pad of paper. “The book’s author goes to great lengths to disprove the truth of the Apollo flight stories, but at least you will be able to read some of the fringe arguments that have been advanced.”
Garrison wrote down the name of the book and the author. “Go to the reserve librarian’s desk and ask for this title,” said the professor as he handed Logan the note. “You can’t check it out, but they’ll let you read it in the library.”
“Thanks,” said Logan as he looked at the note. It read Social Organizational Theory in Pre-Impact Society by Miguel Velasquez. He folded it and put it in his pocket, along with the medallion. Then he stood up to leave.
“And Logan,” said Garrison before Logan opened the office door. “I wouldn’t show that medallion to anyone you don’t trust. It’s an unusual thing to have these days.”
Chapter 9
An hour after leaving Professor Garrison’s office, Logan ascended the marble steps of the hulking Capitol District Central Library. He looked up at the massive stone walls and giant bronze doors. It had been one of his favorite places to go when he was a youth. He’d always marveled at the monumental inspiring building. On each side of the great bronze doors was a huge statue, also of bronze. On the left was the image of a man in coveralls with his shirt sleeves rolled up. He clutched a hammer in his right hand and looked confidently into the distance. The statue on the right was of a soldier standing guard, a rifle at his side. His handsome young face wore an expression of fearless determination.
Logan walked through the doors and into the long hall, the walls of which were decorated with a series of paintings depicting the history of the People’s Republic of America. The first image showed the devastation the Impact had caused. People lay on the ground, reaching to the skies as streaks of fire rained down. The next image showed the people’s misery as they starved or fought for scraps of food. This was followed by a scene depicting the collapse of the United States and the failure of the weak successor state to feed the people or maintain rule of law as people rioted for food, clean water, and shelter. The next image depicted the Tyranny of the Nine, a time when mass protests were mercilessly put down by force of arms.
After these scenes of misery came a bright optimistic painting showing a figure on a hill with large crowds looking up to him, arms outstretched. It was Malcom Weller gathering the people together, uniting them to overthrow the Nine. This was followed by a painting representing the War against the Nine, which finally shattered the nation and split the country apart, resulting in the three successor states plus the ungovernable Midwest.
The next image depicted the death of Malcom Weller soon after he founded the People’s Republic of America. It was followed by a painting showing the struggle for power after Malcom Weller’s death as those loyal to the Nine tried to reassert their control over the PRA. Then came an image showing the people in triumph as they defeated the resurgent but secret forces of the Nine during the Rededication. The final panel depicted a peaceful scene where farmers, laborers, scholars, and soldiers stood shoulder to shoulder, facing a rising sun.
Logan passed by the final panel and entered the large reading room. The ceiling was very high, almost two stories. A balcony ran along all four walls of the central hall. Behind the balcony were many narrow hallways containing thousands of hardcopy books on metal shelves. At the back of the reading room was a semi-circular desk. A sign above it said “Reserve Books”.
Logan approached the thin man standing behind the desk and said, “I’m looking for a book and I was told there might be a copy in the reserve selection.”
“What is the title and author?” asked the man in a tired tone, slipping an index finger behind the lens of his wireframe glasses to rub his right eye.
Logan read him the information from the note Professor Garrison had given him.
The man entered the information into the computer in front of him. “Here we are. Social Organizational Theory in Pre-Impact Society by Miguel Velasquez. It’s only in hardcopy. I’ll be right back.” He turned and walked into the dimly lit warren of bookshelves behind him.
After a minute, the man returned with a book in his hand. “Here you go. I’ll need your ID. You can use one of the tables over there.” He pointed at a row of five long wooden tables.
Logan accepted the book and handed him his identification card. He walked past several tables where people sat reading various reserve books and found an empty one next to a wall near the reserve shelves. A sign on the end of each shelf said Reserve Section : Staff Only.
He opened the text and read the table of contents. It contained twelve chapters, each dealing with what the author considered to be a pre-Impact fringe theory. Two of the chapters dealt with technology that might include the space flight theory. Logan looked at the index in the back for the word “Apollo”. He found several entries concerning an alleged pre-Impact space program. The author went into some detail regarding a few of the space flight theories, dismissing them one by one. In some cases, he went so far as to question the mental and emotional state of the space theorists, arguing their “undedicated” ideas bordered on madness and sedition. With regard to the moon landing theory, Velasquez dismissed it as technologically impossible as well as strategically and politically pointless.
Logan leafed through the chapter and stopped at a page that contained a drawing. He removed the medallion from his pocket and laid it next to the image. They were very similar. Both showed the Greek god Apollo bearing a torch and driving a chariot. Both had what appeared to be a flaming arrow or comet and dot above Apollo’s head. Logan read the caption under the image. It said “Symbol of Apollo Society”. Velasquez described the society as a group of discredited scientists and social misfits that had been disbanded during the Rededication.
Logan heard a thump and spun around in his chair. Behind him was a thin female librarian loading a cart with books. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, pushing a few loose strands of black hair behind her ear as she stooped to load more books onto the cart. “Didn’t mean to surprise you.”
“It’s all right,” said Logan. He returned his attention to the book.
“That’s an interesting piece,” said the woman leaning over the empty chair next to Logan. He placed his hand over the medallion, which was resting next to the book. She looked at the book. “I think I’ve seen some other books on this sort of pre-Impact thing. If you’re interested, I can show you.”
“Maybe,” said Logan.
“May I see it?” she asked, eyeing his hand covering the medallion.
“I’d prefer not,”
replied Logan.
“Okay,” she said with a shrug. “But come with me. There’s one book in particular you should look at.”
She led him into the rows of reserve bookshelves. The stacks were very tall, blocking the ceiling lights from neighboring aisles and casting shadows over most of the shelves and the floor. Logan followed the woman as she wove her way through row after row of dark passages. Finally, they reached a spot in what Logan thought must be the back of the library. She reached up, pulled a book off the shelf, and handed it to Logan. It was entitled The National Aeronautics and Space Agency. A History.
Logan turned the book over in his hands. On the front cover was an image of a tall rocket lifting off from the ground, a great ball of fire and smoke erupting from its engines. He looked at the spine. Then he opened the book to the first page.
“There’s no bar code or stamp,” he said.
“No, there isn’t,” said the woman. “Don’t take this back to your table. Read it right here. When you’re done, put it back on the shelf.” She walked away, and quickly disappeared around a corner.
Logan opened the book and began to read.
Chapter 10
Thirty minutes later, Logan was outside the library. It was a sunny warm spring afternoon. The Central Library was located in the heart of the Capitol District, and although there was a nearby bus stop where he could catch a bus that would take him back to Weller Academy, he decided to enjoy the weather and walk a few blocks to the next stop.
The sidewalk was full of pedestrians as the warm sunlight drew people out into the open air. The road was busy too as people on bicycles and motor scooters hurriedly wove their way around each other. A few small Victory and Unity cars sputtered through traffic, occasionally honking their tinny horns at indifferent co-commuters.
Looking at a sign hanging from a crate at a fruit stand, Logan noted it was blue shopping day. Those with blue buy cards were out in large numbers buying groceries and other essentials. The fruit was rather expensive, probably imported from Florida, thought Logan, but people were glad to have fresh produce to eat so early in the year and the vendor had nearly sold through his quota.
As he walked, Logan thought about what he had learned in the library. He had skimmed each chapter of the book the woman had shown him and was intrigued by what he had read. The book had contained detailed accounts of a variety of space programs: Gemini, Mercury, Apollo, Skylab, Space Shuttle, and Orion, not to mention numerous unmanned probes and satellites. The book was broad in scope, and it contained such convincing details that Logan found it difficult to dismiss.
He returned the smile of two young women passing in the opposite direction. One of them reminded him of the woman he’d met in the library. Clearly, her appearance was not a coincidence. She didn’t just happen to find him researching the topic of pre-Impact spaceflight. She didn’t just happen to know of another book that contained a wealth of information on the topic. And she didn’t just happen to know the exact spot where it was located in the book stacks. Also arguing against a serendipitous encounter was the fact that the book didn’t appear to belong to the library; it had lacked a barcode, stamp, or other indication that the library owned it.
Logan arrived at the bus stop. As he waited for the bus, he looked at people sitting at sidewalk tables of nearby cafés and restaurants. They were in high spirits, enjoying the arrival of warm sunny weather after the long harsh winter. A pair of women at an Italian restaurant laughed loudly and pressed wine glasses to their lips. A well-dressed young man sat at a table behind them, smiling and trying to get their attention. The women were indifferent to his overtures until one of them saw the black buy card between his index and middle finger. She momentarily locked eyes with his and granted him the hint of a smile.
When the bus arrived, Logan took a deep breath, taking in the sweet smells of thousands of nearby blossoms, and smiled. As he boarded, Logan looked to his left and saw something that made his heart skip a beat. On the passenger side of a small blue Victory sat a man with a tan face and short-cropped black hair. Logan only caught a glimpse of his face, but he was quite certain he’d seen him at the library sitting at one of the tables.
Logan was tempted to go to the back of the bus and look at the car through the rear window but he didn’t dare. He decided he would get off the bus at a stop just before the Weller Academy campus. If he saw the man in the blue Victory he would know it was not a coincidence.
During the twenty-minute bus ride, Logan weighed his options. If he was being followed, it was probably an SPD officer, which meant Lieutenant Fischer had ordered that he be put under surveillance. If Lieutenant Fischer was having him followed, Logan thought perhaps he should come clean. Telling the SPD the full story was the prudent thing to do. What did he hope to accomplish by withholding information anyway? His grandfather had asked him to keep the medallion safe until he could retrieve it. But now that he was dead, did Logan owe him anything? He thought about his promising career, what his mother expected of him, what his father would have advised him to do if he were alive. He shook his head and looked out the window.
A few minutes later, the bus arrived at his stop near the academy. As Logan stepped onto the sidewalk, he looked to his right and searched the street and surrounding area. No blue car. No strangers watching him. In fact, the street was empty. He looked at his watch. Sword and shield training was at 4 p.m. and it was already 3:40. Logan broke into a run, arriving at his apartment five minutes later. After changing into his exercise gear, he placed the medallion in his dresser drawer and headed for the door. He turned the handle, but then he paused. He turned around, went back into his bedroom, and retrieved the medallion. He put it in his pocket and left the apartment.
Chapter 11
“As always, the SPD appreciates your vigilance and assistance,” said Lieutenant Fischer as he made a few final notes in his PDD.
“Not at all,” replied Dr. Ferrin, smiling broadly from behind his desk. “Any way I can be of service, please let me know.” He watched the SPD officer type into his PDD. After a few moments, he cleared his throat, which prompted Lieutenant Fischer to look up.
“Yes?”
Dr. Ferrin took a breath. “I wonder if I can introduce one final topic to our meeting agenda.”
“Certainly, doctor,” said Lieutenant Fischer, smiling but only thinly masking his annoyance. “What would you like to discuss?”
“Logan Brandt.”
Lieutenant Fischer’s smile lingered but his eyes hardened. He rested his PDD on edge of the desk and leaned back. “What do you want to say about Logan Brandt?” he asked.
Something about the way the SPD officer replied gave Dr. Ferrin pause. He removed his stylish, nonprescription glasses and cleaned the lenses with a small cloth he took from his breast pocket. “I should preface my comments with the fact that he is a very accomplished student. I’m told he’s good with a sword, too.”
“Is that what you want to tell me about Mr. Brandt?” asked Lieutenant Fisher.
“No, of course not,” said Dr. Ferrin, straightening his shoulders and putting his glasses back on. “He hasn’t given me or any other faculty member any serious cause for concern. But I feel compelled to say I’m not sure he will be a good leader.”
“And why is that?” asked Fischer.
“Despite his talents, I do not have the impression he is particularly motivated to serve the people. He’s quite introverted and seems to be happiest when working alone on a difficult math or science problem.”
Lieutenant Fischer folded his hands on his lap. “Not everyone is a leader,” he said. “The Guardians value the contributions of our scientists and scholars.” He said the last word with a smile and a nod of recognition to Dr. Ferrin, who returned the smile.
“Yes,” said Dr. Ferrin. “I see your point, but with him I sense there is something more at work. I sometimes sense a reticence when talking with him. He seems somewhat…guarded, as though he is holding something back that he�
��d very much like to share but fears the repercussions that would follow.”
“Undedicated?” asked Fischer.
“No, no,” replied Dr. Ferrin. “Nothing so concerning as that.”
“I see. But you believe he’s holding something back?” asked Lieutenant Fischer, eyebrows raised.
“Yes. And although this may be nothing,” continued Dr. Ferrin, “I did happen to find Mr. Brandt talking with Professor Garrison in the professor’s office.”
“Garrison,” said Lieutenant Fischer in a rather more serious tone. “I see. Do you know what they discussed?”
“Unfortunately I do not. They said they were talking about Mr. Brandt’s grade for a course Garrison taught, but I know they were discussing something else. They seemed to be uncomfortable in my presence.”
Lieutenant Fischer nodded his head. “Perhaps it was due to your well-known devotion to the proper education of these students.”
“Perhaps,” said Dr. Ferrin, the corner of his mouth turned up in a smile. “But I am concerned. I believe he is the sort of person who needs added attention; at least until he is a little older and his career path is firmly established.”
Lieutenant Fischer nodded. Then he took a deep breath and stood up, placing his PDD in his coat’s inner pocket. Dr. Ferrin also stood.
“Thank you for your thoughts, Dr. Ferrin,” said Lieutenant Fischer. “Your many contributions are greatly appreciated. We will take your concerns about Mr. Brandt into consideration.”
The Navigator (The Apollo Stone Trilogy Book 1) Page 5