by Ginger Booth
“And why would I tell you our secrets?” Monami challenged him.
“No reason,” Cope allowed. “Unless your world would benefit from trade. Mine has technologies you lack. And metal.”
“You will be more specific.” Nothing subtle in the edge to that one.
Cope shrugged. “Are you a politician? Have negotiating authority? You see the problem. We are eager to discuss deals. If we know who we’re dealing with.”
“That’s been a problem,” Sass reinforced. “Another question. Where are your children?”
“Our children are no concern of yours!” Monami hissed.
“Interesting,” Cope repeated. “Excuse me, do you have a restroom? Uh, toilet, bathroom, the loo?”
After a moment’s puzzlement, Monami’s eyebrows rose. “Ah, the poopster! Entry hall and to the right, beneath the stairs.”
Cope brought his ball and belongings with him. Kassidy excused herself to take a turn as well. Good, more time!
“Poopster,” Kassidy echoed, eyes alight, as they exited the library.
Cope shook his head. “That guy. Paranoid much? You’re not flying drones in here, are you? Pretty sure he’d notice.”
“Spoilsport. Just a little?”
“Suit yourself. Remember to flush twice, nice long intervals between.” Cope opened the poopster door, then tried the other two collected in this spot behind the grand staircase. One led to a servant workroom, the next to the basement, and the third was a coat closet.
Not the basement. The turrets would have clearer transmission. “Headed upstairs,” he murmured to Kassidy. “Dibs.”
He trotted up the main staircase. He kept an eye out for servants, but didn’t spot any. Perhaps cleaning was done for the day, which was getting on toward the dinner hour for laborers, if not rich bozos.
The gallery was a puzzle. He chose the right side, on the theory that the library would enjoy better comms with his central processing unit that way. The chateau boasted no wings. The upstairs rooms opened directly onto this hollow core, with a pyramidal ceiling above, turrets in front.
Cope proceeded directly to the front-most room door. A modest room, surely not the master suite. With its own ‘poopster’ – nice excuse. The door past the poopster offered a spiral staircase, no sooner seen than climbed.
Bingo. Cope’s head emerged into the chateau’s computer room. The room lights rose automatically. The cabinets could have come straight off Vitality, or any of the Colony Corps settler ships. Rusty edges in the enameled metal betrayed the eight decades since they left Earth. He took out his comm tab and slowly panned through a 360-degree view.
How much time can I get away with here? The question died as he spotted the comms router. He dumped his lizards and backpack, and brought out a sniffer. A few moments work, and he had this guy’s number – more specifically, his frequency address.
The device held a buffer of what other nodes it connected to. The vast majority began with the same first three digits. Benelux devices. He copied the whole buffer. He’d bet anything that address list included a wizard or three in Britain, same for France and Scandia, and a whole nest of the bastards in Deutschland. If they were lucky, possibly some truly interesting peripherals as well. Those mines, and the sulfur blower arrays. Maybe even their original off-planet comms array.
Sadly, this particular wizard might not have accessed that in years, though.
Cope reached for the inputs on the workstation next to the commplex, then jerked his hand back. Instead he drew out his pocket knife and poked the keys with that. The display turned on automatically as expected. Utilitarian, standard operating system, similar vintage to the old cabinets. He clicked a quick picture of the screen. He bet Nico could make quick work of hacking into this system.
He was proud to busting of that kid of his these days. Not that Cope showed it much. A guy that age didn’t seek flattery from his geeky old dad.
His fingers itched to rifle more, pry some doors open, see what this so-called wizard could do. But no, he should get back downstairs.
He trotted down the spiral stairs and flushed the poopster. No class at all. The Brits called it the ‘loo.’ Poopster?
He emerged from the guest room just as Monami started stomping up the lower flight. As soon as the wizard spotted Cope coming down the stairs, he stopped, glowering upward. “What are you doing up here?”
Cope patted his stomach, awkward around his ball of lizards. “Lunch disagreed with us. Used the guest room, let the lady take the downstairs head. Poopster.” Much as it galled him to speak the silly word. “Have you found…? Ah, Kassidy.” The ex-starlet had rejoined Sass by the library door.
Monami peered into his eyes as Cope passed him, a glare of challenge. Cope simply kept walking. “Hey, Sass? We’re not feeling well.”
Kassidy pounced. “Yeah, I’m ready for a hotel.”
“You will stay, as my guests,” Monami growled. “I insist.”
“I don’t think so,” Cope replied, and continued toward the grand entrance. A sheet of flame erupted across his path, burning from the blank black and white tiles. He ignored the light show and walked straight through. D for effort. Didn’t even show gas jets at the base of the flames.
Cope didn’t look back, just trusted Sass and Kassidy to do whatever they felt best. The lever-type door handle didn’t budge when he tried to open it. He put some serious pressure on it, too. I love this ceramic. Strength of steel, thin as a coin, not brittle at all. He peered through the crack between the paired doors, but it looked like a dead bolt as thick as his thumb. He looked for a release button, but didn’t see one on the wall. So he felt up the molding to his right. Bingo.
The door bolt retracted to his button press, and he opened the door. The process couldn’t have taken half a minute.
A half-dozen soldiers awaited across his path back to the trolley overpass. Complete with hooked pokers and stupid little red-lapel jackets. Damn.
He froze, and breathed, “Your turn, Sass.”
36
Ben, lying belly-down on the Earth grass, propped on his forearms, watched a bunny, entranced.
The bunny twitched his nose. Ben twitched his nose. He fancied they were beginning to bond.
“I’m gonna catch it,” he confided in Clay, in a whisper. A gift of bunny would go far to win over his son Socrates. His daughter Frazzie would be over the moon, too. He couldn’t imagine a more perfect souvenir to bring home. A furry pet from Cantons!
Lukas left them to wait here while he searched for the wizard. The house he entered, a stone’s throw away, looked not especially finer than the other simple grey box houses. Terrace on the roof, tended flower garden, charmingly blended into the rocky landscape. This area seemed to be served by star drive lighting, too, mostly grazing land.
With bunnies!
Clay arched an eyebrow. “Bet I could do it. You’d just scare her off.”
Ben shot him a glower. What was more important, that adventure dad caught the bunny? Or that the kids received the bunny? “Alright. But I tell my kids I caught it for them.”
Clay chuckled soundlessly. In ultra-slow motion, he drew up to his knees, got one foot under him, then the other. He drew off his sun-drenched yellow buttoned shirt. He spread it between his hands and paused to spring.
Then he dove over the baby bunny, trapping it under his shirt. “Got him! Or are you a little girl?”
Ben stood to watch as Clay inspected its equipment. “Boy.”
“I’m in awe.” The captain reached out a tentative finger to touch the velvety ears, and laughed. “If I pick him up, I’m going to lose him, aren’t I?” Clay held the creature too swaddled to escape.
Remi closed in to surreptitiously record a closeup with his comm tab. “Did you get the awesome capture?” Clay asked.
“Of course. Elise ask to zoom on your chest and shoulders. For Sass.”
“Drat.” Ben sighed. “You should put your shirt back on before this wizard shows.”
Ben was in love.
“Hello, hello!” called a new voice.
Remi hastily stowed his tab, and Clay buttoned his shirt. Ben turned to see an older man approach with Lukas. Correction. Not much older than Cope, and probably 70 years younger than Clay. Remi and Elise were around Cope’s age, too, in their low forties.
“Hello!” Ben cried back. He waited until the newcomers picked their way down the uneven rocky slope before attempting further conversation. “Is this your bunny, sir?”
The man beamed at him, from a face not given to smile lines. “Rabbits are a problem here. Too many.” He reached a hand and scratched between the little beast’s ears. “We eat them.” He caught Ben’s reaction. “Ha! Your face!”
Ben couldn’t help it. Sure, he understood in theory that the livestock grazing in these hills were subject to butchering. But the bunny looked so innocent. He’d stowed his mask in his backpack when they reached Hellada. The locals didn’t wear them.
“Not that one,” the man offered apologetically. “Just a baby. No meat yet. I am Adamos. Lukas says you seek a wizard?”
Ben provided his party’s names, identifying them only as travelers, as he had to Lukas. Along the way, Lukas nodded respect, and excused himself to walk home along the goat path they trod to reach here. By now it was the local equivalent of 21:00, though the star drive blazed just the same. True sunset would arrive around 06:00 for the 50 Earth hours of dark. As elsewhere, Cantons had adjusted the length of an hour to call it 48 hours.
Adamos guided them to his house and bid them climb to the roof while he brought refreshments. They made themselves at home on an eclectic collection of hard chairs and benches and admired the view. Ben noted a small building, half hidden by the lay of the land, in the field where Lukas found the wizard. The house lay lower than the craggy surrounding hilltops, and alone in its bowl. The city wall stood a couple hundred meters away.
This city-state didn’t tack apartment buildings onto the inside. They didn’t seem to have an urban-look district. Walls a few klicks long encompassed its hexagon footprint. Ben could see two corners from here. The star drive ‘sun’ eclipsed the view of the dome girders above.
Adamos returned with water, and a bonus bunny basket with lid, woven from grasses, with a handful of lettuce on board. Ben lifted in the baby bunny. He remained frozen briefly, then dug in to chomp the leaves.
“Acosta,” Adamos said at last, satisfied that all his guests were at ease. Apparently he preferred a surname basis for new acquaintances. “Why do you seek a wizard?”
“I’m afraid a wizard is seeking us.” Ben relayed an account of having taken two laptop computers from the lair of a certain Reynaud in France, Milo’s master. “In Italia, some men chased us, sent by a guy named Schauble. You’ve heard of him?”
Adamos’ expression remained well-schooled through this story, only faintly incredulous. “Yes.” He buried his face in his glass.
An incensed Milo jabbered French at Elise until she shut him up.
Remi translated. “Everyone knows Schauble. He is important.” He flicked a wrist to indicate he wouldn’t bother translating the rest of Milo’s tirade, which set the wizard apprentice off again. Elise managed to stifle him by tracing a flirtatious finger down his nose.
“My theory,” Ben asserted. “We should return the computers to Reynaud. Except it is unwise for us to visit France. Or Deutschland.” Adamos’ raised eyebrows tended to confirm this. “Perhaps a third party.”
“God, no,” Adamos replied. “Please. I am a simple wizard.” He spread his hands as though to encompass the bucolic setting. “Hellada is a simple city. We have no army. We live in peace. Grow crops. Animals. Make tourists happy.”
“I see,” Ben allowed. “Next, unrelated question. Where are the children?”
Adamos slowly lowered his glass to a side table. “Who are you people?”
“Travelers.”
“Ha! Yes. From where? Steppe? No, Steppe has no more ships than we do! The Colony Corps? Earth? Another star system?”
“Ah,” Ben allowed. “We just met, Adamos. Let’s agree, for now, that we are from some other world. Our business here is two-fold. We have some friends, about five thousand including a thousand children. They seek a new place. They hoped Cantons might be that place. But I see no children.”
Adamos showed remarkable restraint as he crossed his legs and gazed at the bunny.
Milo erupted again, but Elise squelched him. Judging by the body language, this time she threatened to make him go sit in the field if he didn’t behave. Ben jerked his head sideways to suggest she make good on that threat. Now would be good. Elise, near telepathic at reading body language, scooted back in her seat, smiled sunnily, and wrinkled her nose at her captain. She disagreed. Fine.
“The second fold?” Adamos prompted.
Ben shrugged. “Trade. We hope to understand what the people of Cantons want. What we might bring that you need.”
“I see.” Adamos stood abruptly. “I need to consult with others before I answer.” He hesitated. “The computers. They are with you?”
“Please, Adamos, sit,” Ben urged. “We mean you no harm whatsoever. We are only trying to understand. You are a peaceful people. We come in peace. I think we’re in the right place, right now. Bringing in others would only complicate things.”
The wizard frowned thoughtfully, eyes lighting on the bunny again. “If I were to tell you…things…that someone disagreed with, it could cost me my life. And also Hellada. You know of Baltica?”
Ben looked to Clay, who guessed, “Little ghost town, no bigger than yours? Near Scandinavia and Poland?” Good memory.
Adamos sighed heavily. “Scandia. And Polska. You are truly strangers. You, Milo, are they what they say, from another world?”
The acolyte squirmed, looked guilty and terrorized, and nodded emphatically. Ben would vote him most likely to steal the silverware. “Milo! Tell the nice man that we didn’t hurt you. You trust us.”
Milo gulped. His head nodded some more. The whites of his eyes blazed around beady eyeballs.
Ben waved at exhibit A. “You see what we have to work with, Adamos. We came a very long way for answers. And Milo is our best source of information so far. And the computers. A little context could go a long way. With the purpose of making friends between our worlds.”
Clay added, “Hellada has few people. Your customs are strange to us. But we can’t help feeling that something is…wrong here.”
“On my world,” Elise volunteered, “something was very wrong. And these people,” she indicated Ben and Clay with flourished hand, “came to offer help. They make things better. So much that Remi and I, we help them.”
“Two worlds,” Adamos noted. He sank back to his seat, face registering shock.
Gee thanks, Elise. “We’re still getting to know each other,” Ben growled pointedly at her. “Your turn, Adamos. Let’s start simple. Where are the children? I asked Milo. He claims he doesn’t remember before Paris, when he was thirteen and already a wizard student. No memory of his parents. Just other schools. That’s hard to believe.”
Adamos’ face crumpled. He shook his head ever so slightly at the baby bunny, as though to say, ‘Why us?’
Ben laid on more pressure. “Adamos, I hope to bring the bunny home as a gift for my son Socrates. He’s nine. And my daughter Sassafras, she’s eleven. Our friends who might wish to come here, they have children, too. We need to know.”
“The bunnies have babies, you see,” Adamos whispered. “In utero.”
The trio across from Ben looked as clueless as he felt, but Clay beside him stiffened in shock. “What’s ‘in utero’?” Ben asked him.
“Our children, all mammals, are gestated in vitro,” Clay explained. “Conceived in a test tube instead of in the body.
On Earth, babies were conceived and carried in the female uterus, in utero. Off-world, our animals, ourselves, we cannot bear children.”
Adamos nodded confirmation of this. “But the bunnies do. And we do not. They thought they solved it. And we were dying off so quickly. Less than half remain from settlement, and the population still falling. The malaise, we call it.”
“We call it failure to thrive,” Ben murmured grimly. “Our world suffered the same.”
“The enchanters,” Adamos continued in a daze. “The women who create the babies. They made a generation of children with the same modification as the bunnies. We would be more human, you see. It only grew worse. We do not bond.”
Clay leaned forward onto his knees. “Bond. Men and women don’t bond as lovers? Or parents don’t bond with children? Or…?”
“No one bonds with anyone, really,” Adamos admitted. “We simply don’t like each other. Worldwide. Oh, there are exceptions. Even a few babies born. But the mothers tended to kill them. Very annoying creatures, human babies.”
Ben’s jaw dropped. Clay jabbed him with an elbow. “Who raises the children now?”
“The few women who can stand them. Others to mop up after them, feed them. They’re raised in orphanages, as many as the caretakers can manage. By age eight or so, you can tell some are bright, with a spark of curiosity, or empathy. Girls are separated out to train as enchanters, or childrearers. Boys with a flair for math and technology begin hard schooling to become wizards. They get more attention, more nurturing. The others are parceled out to other guilds for training when they’re old enough to survive.”
“How many infants per caretaker?” Clay pressed.
“I have no idea,” Adamos claimed. “Zentrum does that work. A very closed city, Zentrum. They don’t tolerate questions. The enchanters keep producing new youths. Furtive, hostile, mask-trained.”
“Mask-trained,” Ben prompted.
“That’s how we’re taught how to act,” Adamos said. “With the masks. Not me personally. They evaluate and sort children. I was almost Earth-normal socially. Aptitude for wizardry. Though I’m no more interested in…consorting…than the next man.”