by Steve M
The room was purple, everything was purple: the curtains, the cushions, and the bed covering. Inside of the room were another two guards and a man dressed in purple. Tanit quickly moved to one side of the room away from them as she noticed her breathing was heavy from running. She promised herself that she would get back on her exercise regime as soon as they were home and safe.
Dancing lessons. Despite all of the years, the distance and everything else, dancing lessons for little girls are still the standard for parenting. It was the subject of Tanit’s most painful childhood memory, the humiliation of being the one tiny girl with debilitating stage fright. She stood under the lights, her body frozen in fear, all except her bladder, which chose that moment to cease cooperation with the rest of her body. And her childhood terror was based on a simple thing. She had stumbled walking up the stairs to the wooden sun on the stage filled with children. So it is little wonder that when Tanit came back to the three steps close to the door, she tripped over the first one and fell.
Even an invisible body makes a sound when it hits a sandstone floor.
“Did you hear that?” asked the man dressed in purple, and turned his head quickly towards the door.
Tanit lay motionless on the floor, carefully controlling her breathing.
“Hear what?”
“I heard something, be quiet,” said the human grape.
Tanit began to hold her breath as the man looked directly at her and saw nothing. She was thinking it was going to be OK. When they looked away, she would get up and quietly take the final four steps to the door and the safety of an exit.
As she was watching and waiting for them to turn away, she heard a voice behind her, coming in the door.
“Pens, I want to discuss a few things. We need to stop referring to me as…” the man with the long black hair and black eyes didn’t finish his sentence because he tripped over Tanit. He fell down all three stairs and hit hard on the sandstone floor. The man in purple and the four guards watched as their king and former god hit face first on the floor.
Tanit didn’t waste a moment. She was up on her feet and out the door as fast as she could.
“Get the remedium,” she heard the man in purple yell as she left the room.
Outside in the cavernous hallway, it was quiet except for whispered conversations between the guards.
“There is an intruder,” she heard the man in purple yell from the room she had just left.
At these words, all of the guards began to look around.
“They are cloaked. Invisible. Use your ears,” his voice boomed out.
But by that time Tanit was back in the main temple, moving around the back of the crowd towards the front entrance. She knocked down a man in her haste to get away. The old man with the walking stick was no match for Tanit and her shoulder.
She took the last orange from her pocket when she was sitting safely back aboard the cruiser, in the sleeping quarters, sitting on the bed with her back to the wall. Now I will tell you that there were tears in her eyes. But they weren’t tears of fright. Nor were they tears of concern for Koven. No. These were tears of anger. Anger at herself. Anger for thinking she could capture and succeed with a historian. Anger at her delusional mind that thought that she, she who is not that special, she who can relate best to calculations and formulas, she who has been overweight since her first boyfriend dumped her all those years ago, anger at her mind that thought that she could force a different outcome from the crowd. She threw the orange at the bulkhead.
Rescue was a lot harder than she thought it would be.
But there was still time to get the cruiser back.
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
“Damn it, Sip, you are being unreasonable,” said a very red-faced Wingut.
“Not in the least. The capture of Professor Klept is the number-one priority in the entire universe. Every transit point. Planets are being monitored, more of them every day. Even his beloved Physics Department has begun to help us. They realize just how large an effect this could have on their department budgets for a very long time.” Professor Longley leaned back in his chair and looked at the man standing in front of his desk.
“You won’t let me have the benchers for the rescue and you won’t give me agents. Kittley, Amir. The department was less than half the size it is now and they sent ten agents for his rescue,” replied Wingut.
“You impertinent…” Longley hesitated. “How dare you quote historical precedence to me when we are faced with the largest crisis in departmental and galactic history since your event? I won’t stand for it.”
“Then I’m headed to Orplan’s office,” said Wingut. “You should come with me.”
“Why? I trust you to be factual,” replied Longley with a smirk.
“I want you there so that when she orders you to provide agents there will be no delay in your transferring them to my command.”
“Look at you. What? You’re going back out into the field? You? You’re at least twenty kilos past the limit for a field agent. Look at you. Look at me. We’re all fat. Your probability of surviving is reduced when you are out of shape.”
“Give me the agents,” Wingut yelled at Longley.
“No,” Longley yelled back at him, then chuckled disrespectfully.
Wingut turned to leave.
“And I won’t come with you to see Dean Midge. Go it alone. And I’m taking the rest of the day off, in seclusion. Good luck. Maybe next time you will think twice before you become a traitor to the aims of the department. Judas.”
As he walked past the bookcase, Wingut noticed a copy of Kinderpop by Dieter Spanglund. He threw it at Longley as hard as he could. But anger made the throw a wild one and it hit the window and smashed it. The cool outside air rushed into the room.
Longley yelled at Wingut as he walked away. “I could have you brought up on assault charges!”
“And I could kill you,” Wingut muttered to himself.
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
“Time to wake up,” said Allor, standing in the doorway of Koven’s cell.
“I’m awake,” replied Koven in an unfriendly tone.
“Then get your ass up,” said Ova, who was standing behind Koven. “Can’t sleep all day. Not when your king needs you.”
“My king? You are making fundamental mistakes,” replied Koven.
“And you are making one that could cost you your head,” replied Ova with her hand on her sword.
“Now, now, my love,” replied Allor. “Our guest is just taking time to appreciate his circumstances.” Allor looked at one of the guards behind him and nodded. The man entered the cell with his sword drawn.
“Let’s go,” said the guard, pointing the tip of his sword at Koven’s face.
They took Koven to a larger room. Waiting for them were Dubitam and MinKey. As soon as they entered the room, Dubitam started with the questions.
“How many people will your spaceship accommodate?”
“Let him at least take a seat first,” said Allor with a smile.
“Five,” replied Koven as he moved over to the table and sat down.
“But there is space for more?” asked MinKey.
“Yes. But it is outfitted for five people. Life support, food, sleeping accommodation. Five.”
“Why five?” asked MinKey.
“Crisis votes,” replied Koven. “Even numbers don’t work.”
“So the hierarchal model is abandoned?” asked MinKey.
“No. It was never in place. Each have their function, and some are better at making certain decisions. However, in instances of life-or-death choices, we prefer to be part of the decision.”
“The Molliere Perspective?” asked MinKey.
“Yes. Well understood. Congratulations,” replied Koven. He looked at MinKey with a newfound respect. She understood the information recently given to her, at more than merely a factual nature. She was able to draw knowledge from the information and use it to understand other areas. Most people didn�
��t, or it took an exceptionally long time, unless prompted.
“How do you get back and forth from your vessel?” asked Dubitam.
“PTD,” replied Koven.
“I knew it,” said Dubitam enthusiastically.
“It won’t protect from deep space, but the bubble contains enough oxygen and protection to get to a space shuttle airlock with a significant safety margin.”
“How do you set the location of your spaceship?”
“No,” replied Koven angrily. “I’m not going to help you.”
“Get us some food,” said Allor to one of the guards. The man stood stiffly for a moment then left. Pens came into the room. He was wearing his purple cape and left a man and a woman at the door when he entered.
“It will be a long night,” said Pens, and he pointed at Koven.
“Now let’s not go that way,” said Allor. “That ends with a dead body and only a little knowledge.”
“We don’t need him. We have the book. We can take his head without fear,” replied Pens. He smiled and wagged his finger at Koven. “And I will be the one to do it.”
“No you won’t,” replied MinKey for the first time forcefully.
“Why not, bitch?” replied Pens with an annoyed tone.
“Because I have read the manual for the personal transport device three times and I still don’t understand how it works. And I won’t until I have the opportunity to discuss it with someone who uses it all the time. And that’s just the personal transport device. Then there is the entire Cultural Revolution. I have no idea what was going on. Sure, I know the events and the dates and the actors. But I just don’t get it. It makes no sense to me. Then there’s the features of the remedium. I understand about ninety percent of it. But the chemical rejuvenation of cells is the part I don’t understand. But I think it’s important.”
“It is,” replied Koven. “It’s how we live for as long as we want.”
“Forever,” replied MinKey.
“In theory, yes.”
“Three million?” asked MinKey.
“As an approximation? Yes,” replied Koven.
“I don’t understand,” replied MinKey.
“Sometimes I’m not sure if I understand it,” replied Koven.
“What are you two talking about?” Pens demanded to know.
“When given eternal life, humans willingly give it up after three million revs,” said MinKey.
“That’s stupid. Impossible. It’s the one thing I’ll never give up,” replied Pens adamantly.
“Yet everyone does,” replied Koven.
“They’re stupid.”
“Can we please get back to the spaceship orbiting the planet?” asked Dubitam. “We could escape to the stars. And not tomorrev. Torev.”
“I think it would be better if we worked to meet the contact criteria,” said Allor.
“You can’t meet it by using our technology,” replied Koven. “I was serious about them wiping your memory.”
“You’re lying,” replied Pens.
Allor started laughing. Then Ova joined in. Finally Koven joined.
“OK. So he might not be lying,” admitted Pens. “But there has to be a way around this. He knows it and isn’t telling us.”
“The only way around this is if you return all of the technology before the rescue team comes looking for me.”
“Rescue team?” asked Ova.
Koven didn’t respond.
“When will they arrive?” asked Ova.
“I don’t know. ‘Soon’ would be a high-probability guess. Within the next rev or two. Sooner, I hope.”
“What, you don’t like our hospitality?” asked Ova.
“Being held prisoner? No, I don’t. I have a family, a life, a girlfriend. I have a teaching module I need to finish.”
“Get used to it,” said Pens.
Dubitam walked over to the table and sat down across from Koven.
“Let’s make a deal,” said Dubitam. “You get us to your ship, give us flight instructions, and we let you go.”
“No.”
“You realize that we will eventually figure it out. We’ve got all the manuals in the book,” said Dubitam.
“Yes.”
“It will go better for you if you cooperate,” said Pens. Then he slapped Koven on the back of the head. “I’ll be the one to take your head. Remember that, star man.”
“Stop it,” said Allor.
“We need him to cooperate, my love,” said Ova quietly in Allor’s ear. “Perhaps what he needs is some female persuasion.”
“Do you require the comforts of a woman to be more cooperative?” Allor asked.
“No. No,” replied Koven.
“The comforts of a man, perhaps?”
“No”
The guard came into the room with food. It was a plate of fruit and vegetables. In the middle of the platter was what looked like a large roasted duck. The man put the platter on the table between Dubitam and Koven. Dubitam pulled a piece of meat from the duck and ate it.
“Please,” he said to Koven.
Koven was hungry. He wanted to grab the food and shove it into his mouth, but didn’t. Instead he picked up one of the small orange vegetables and ate it politely. Allor came over to the table and pulled the leg off the duck.
At the sight of this, Koven started retching until he had returned the orange vegetable.
“What’s wrong, star man?” asked Pens with a chuckle. He reached down and pulled the other leg from the duck. Again Koven responded with dry heaves.
“Stop it,” said MinKey. “He’s a vegetarian,” she said loudly.
“So what? He’s just weak,” replied Pens. He looked at MinKey with squinted eyes.
“Check your knowledge. In a galaxy with millions of species of animals, killing any animal is considered murder,” said MinKey. She looked at Koven. “Am I right?” she asked.
Koven nodded.
“Get rid of the duck,” Allor said to the guard. The platter was taken away only to reappear a few minutes later with more vegetables and no trace of the duck.
“But it’s not one of the contact criteria,” said Allor, looking at Koven for confirmation.
Koven had recovered from his stomach problems and was now trying another orange vegetable. This time he kept it down.
“No. It’s just something that happens. Like the three million revs. After exposure to a vast new array of life forms, we just have a higher level of appreciation and respect for all species. Eating them stops. How would you like it if another species found you particularly tasty?”
“I see,” replied Allor.
“But to give up duck,” replied Ova. “That is a lot.”
“I’ve never known any other way,” replied Koven. He picked up a white floral type vegetable. He bit into it. It was cauliflower. He quickly chewed and swallowed it. He didn’t take a second piece.
“How many of them are coming?” asked Pens.
“I don’t know. Usually it is at least twenty. But there have been instances of thousands. It depends on the circumstances. But when they come, they will come with significant advantage in technology and experience.”
“They will be no match for my sword,” replied Pens aggressively.
“Yes, there is your sword,” said Koven with a sigh.
“It will be me,” said Pens, pointing at Koven. “Remember that, star man.”
“Yes, I know.”
“Time to put you in a safe place,” said Allor.
Koven looked at him blankly.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
A personal protection suit remembers the last size of the person that is registered for the suit. This is convenient for those who wear one often. However, for those who have a PPS registered to them but who have for any reason not worn the suit in a while or, more precisely, kilograms ago, they will find themselves desperately pressing the command insignia five times quickly to turn on autofit before they are extruded like sausage through the suit. T
he solution for this problem would only require two lines of code to ensure that the autofit was in on by default. But unfortunately, it is just two lines of code, and therein lies the problem.
Its simple inelegance ensures that no one is interested in making the change. Or more precisely, making the change and putting their name on it. If it were a more complicated solution, say perhaps requiring three thousand lines of code, then there would be no shortage of people eager to take up the challenge. But just two lines? It would look very silly in performance-review sessions despite the enhancement for users.
Eflin and Indira both experienced this problem as they got dressed, and both could be heard smacking the insignia quickly and muttering obscenities.
“What do you want for your birthday?” asked Eflin as he walked up behind Indira and squeezed her tightly.
“A night alone with you,” she said as she turned around and kissed him. “And a son safe at home.”
“Yes. Let’s protect our investment,” replied Eflin.
“When was the last time you updated your weapons?” she asked him.
“Right,” he said. “Been a long time. I’ll do yours too.”
“Thanks, dear,” Indira said as she pulled her hair back and tied it behind her head.
The call from Professor Wingut was short.
“I need you both to come with me to see Dean Midge,” said the man in the video.
“But we’re almost ready to go.”
“There might be a way that we can have more than three of us on the planet.”
“How long a delay?” asked Indira as she put on one of the pantsuits she wore when teaching her classes.
“Half rev, tops.”
“What do we gain?” asked Eflin.
“Twenty or more,” replied Wingut.
Eflin looked at Indira. She shrugged.
“OK. We’ll be there as soon as possible,” replied Eflin.
Indira and Eflin arrived on Centrum Kath during afternoon classes. They made their way to Professor Wingut’s office. They heard the end-of-class tone and then the sudden rush of activity in the hallway. After a few tox, Professor Wingut and another man came into his office.
“Indira, my dear, you are as beautiful as you were when we attended the Historical Patterns lectures.”