Worlds Apart 02 Edenworld

by James Wittenbach

  Scout had not budged. “I think I have activated an auto-diagnostic function.” She waited a few moments, analyzed her readings. “Power flow is positive. All of its internal systems seem to be functional.”

  “So, why isn’t it moving. Is it a statue, or a kiosk of some kind?” Keeler asked.

  “Neg, it definitely has auto-mobility. Its arms and legs are articulated, and I detect a pseudo-muscular system for moving the extremities.”

  Alkema stood off to the side a bit, studying the mechanoid, its position, and the environment around it, in particular, the burned out tree-trunk behind it.

  “It’s not a system problem,” he announced. “Its materials have dehydrated and its mechanism has fused. It needs to be lubricated.”

  “Don’t we all?” Keeler muttered.

  Scout shined an intense scanning beam into the mechanoid’s armpit. “He’s right. It’s completely corroded. There’s lubricant in my kit, would you get it for me? I’ll also need an energy-wave stimulator, a sonic brush, and some alcohol to clean the connections.”

  “Lubricant, stimulator, alcohol... sounds like a bodacious first date.” Keeler added. Alkema scowled. Humor may have been the commander’s defense mechanism, but right now he found it inappropriate. The technician took the lubricant and another device when he handed it to her.

  “Based on the scoring, I’m guessing this guy was hit by lightning,” Scout suggested. “It over-loaded his system, so he went into a repair mode. By the time the internal repairs were completed, the rain had caused his joints to corrode and fuse.”

  “How long has he been standing here?”

  “I have no way of guessing, but I would bet it’s been a very long time. See his feet?”

  “Neg.”

  “That’s because they’re buried under eight inches of deposited soil. Keeler looked at the mechanoid, and then back to the boy, and instinctively tightened his grip on his walking stick. Honeywell, Buttercup, and Everything raised their swords. Things were getting interesting, and they had enough experience to be worried. A shaft of light stabbed out at them. They turned toward the sky, taking care not to look directly at the sun, which was emerging from behind the planet like the stone in a diamond ring. The change in the landscape was almost miraculous. The olive color of the ecliptic twilight transformed to a gold that lent contrast and edge to what had been a murky landscape of shadows seconds before.

  “Daybreak,” Honeywell said.

  “Are we safer now?” Keeler asked him.

  Honeywell stared up into the sky. “Nay, we’re not.”

  Following Honeywell’s gaze, Keeler looked up into the goldening sky. He saw nothing.

  “What is it?”

  “I’ve heard them circling us for the last half hour. I think they’ve been waiting for light.”

  “Who?”

  In answer, a pair of short, thick arrows shot from the sky and stuck themselves into the roadway and a small boulder at Keeler’s feet.

  “Run!” Keeler yelled, he ran toward the boy, whom Bihari had already scooped up, and made for the opposite side of the road. More arrows rained down, striking the ground in the dust behind his feet. The attackers were still too high to be seen, but their weapons were very close to finding their marks.

  Keeler, Skinner, Bihari, and the boy took shelter in a rocky ditch with Marine Lt. Honeywell. Alkema and Scout sheltered behind the mechanoid. The rest of the party crouched low in the opposite ditch. The boy was frightened, but silent. His brown eyes searched the heavens.

  An arrow punctured the rocks at the edge of the ditch. Three finger widths of its shaft penetrated the stone. “Crossbows,” Honeywell explained. He took out a pocket scanner and ran it over the arrow.

  “Can those penetrate your armor?” Keeler asked.

  “They can’t, and they don’t have to,” Honeywell said. “The points are tipped with a contact poison... absorbed through the skin.” Just for emphasis, Honeywell’s defensive shielding flared and an arrow bounced off that otherwise would have struck his left eye.

  “Next time, I am definitely wearing the landing suit,” Keeler decided out loud. A winged shadow flashed across the ground. Bird-shapes descended from the sky and flashed above the highway, like savage fallen angels killing time on their way to Hell. They passed above, a hundred meters, perhaps less, and another rain of arrows thunked into the dirt around Keeler, Honeywell, Skinner, Bihari and the boy.

  “I count twenty,” Honeywell said.

  “Damb, that’s a lot of bird-guys,” Keeler said. “We can’t defend ourselves on the ground.”

  The High Guardsmen were wheeling, far up in the sky, like hawks.

  As he watched them, another arrow shot down from the sky, flew over his head and embedded itself in the rocks behind him. The Guardsmen turned and were bearing down on the party on the opposite side of the path, who were less protected.

  “I am going to try something,” Honeywell lifted one foot up to the roadbed and braced another against a rock. He withdrew a dagger from his belt and held it out in his right hand, an expression of intense concentration on his face as he calculated his move. When a flight of four guardsmen in a diamond formation reached the lowest arc of their dive, he leapt with all his strength, amplified by his landing gear, impossibly high. He connected with the last of the flying guardsmen, bringing him down to the ground in a tumbling ball of wings and arms and armor. They hit the ground hard, with Honeywell on top, his arm raised high and they saw the flash of a dagger just before he plunged it into the breast of the Guardsmen. He squawked as he died, like a screaming raptor. Honeywell jumped from the body and ran for the ditch, a shower of arrows trailing him. He regained shelter in one long jump, just ahead of a screaming guardsman, diving low to avenge the death of his wingman.

  “One down,” Honeywell reported.

  “Do you think they’re stupid to get low enough to let us try that again,” Keeler asked grimly. His question was punctuated by another arrow, burying itself in the brush behind him.

  “Perhaps we can wait them out until the run out of ammunition.”

  “I counted twenty arrows on the man I took down,” Honeywell said. “This could also just be the first wave.”

  “What do you suggest we do?”

  “Maybe if we…” Honeywell began. Suddenly, there came a noise from high above, a high-pitched aerodynamic screech, like air moving fast over metal.

  “Look!” Alkema yelled from behind the mechanoid.

  Two trios of tiny dots high in the sky were arcing downward. The Shrieks grew larger and larger, swift and silent. Stainless steel butterflies of death, their long wings pitched into an attack angle as they swooped down on the hawk-men.

  The Shrieks closed and fired their ion maneuvering thrusters. They came from high and behind the guardsmen, firing white-blue energy bolts. Each time they connected, which was almost certain, the targeted guardsman vanished in a wisp of vapor, only little charred bits of wing and bone were left to fall to the ground.

  “Somebody up there likes us,” Honeywell muttered, unable to keep from smiling. Keeler, somehow, looked even more grim. The Shrieks were brutally efficient. They bore down on the Guardsmen with deadly speed and precision. The Guardsmen were caught by surprise and had no defense. The Shrieks finished them off in seconds.

  Bihari and Skinner hugged each other. Honeywell and Buttercup exchanged a victory salute. Keeler could hear clapping and cheers from the opposite ditch. One of the Shrieks turned from the others and swooped down on the landing party. It came to a hovering stop above the Goldstone Highway path.

  Keeler stepped out into the road and crossed until he stood face-to-face with the Shriek. For a moment, it was as though the two were staring each other down. Keeler looked small in front of the machine, like a bug about to be consumed by a bird.

  He raised one hand, a finger pointing upwards.

  “Go,” he barked.

  Like a well-trained terrier, the Shriek wheeled and shot upward into
the sky to rejoin its comrades. In less time than it takes to tell, they had all disappeared.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Pegasus – Deck 14 – Section 84:R30

  Eddie Roebuck sat in a comfortable, egg-shaped chamber deep in the interior of Pegasus, several decks below the Command Tower, forward of Flight Operations, deep in the heart of the Habitation Decks. Its curvaceous walls were colored a light, undulating blue. The furnishings were soft and rounded, no hard edges. He sat across a thick, blue and black striped table across from two people who, in his opinion, seemed entirely too happy to be alive.

  “Thank you so much for coming down and talking with us this afterdawn.” Her name was Donatella Alenia. She was a heavy woman, with a large mouth and flat-black hair that framed her squarish face in a gentle crest. “We were so happy to hear of your interest in working with Recreational Services. We are always so eager to welcome new faces to our little department.”

  Sitting next to her was an only slightly more sober male, with grey-touched hair, and a fatherly aspect. His name was Rod CraneVaulter. “I imagine it’s quite a change from Flight Services. What made you decide to change professions?”

  “It was either this, or starve, or Executive Commander Lear was going to freeze me and send me back to Sapphire,” he answered.

  Their faces were frozen for a moment, then broke in subdued, polite chuckles. “What an excellent sense of humor! Doesn’t he have a great sense of humor? That’s going to be very useful. I can tell, it’s going to be a lot of fun having you around,” Alenia’s voice was roaring and triumphant, as though she had just won an arm wrestling tournament. “Have you been briefed on the kind of work we do here in Recreational Services?”

  “I just thought you … you know, helped people chill out and what not. I mean, me, I can’t imagine needing any help with that, but I figure, there are probably a lot of people on this ship with airtight-orifices who need to get loosened up.”

  “Okay. okay, that’s part of it,” Alenia said, slightly drained of her joviality. “More broadly, we think personal time can be an opportunity for personal development. Part of our mission is to provide guidance for members of the crew who want to take advantage of such opportunities. We sponsor clubs for art and cultural activities, music, dance, literature and hobbies. We assist in setting up sports leagues and facilities as needed.”

  “Do you do parties?” Eddie Roebuck asked.

  “We can arrange music, catering, and entertainment to any member of the crew who requests it for any special occasion. Not long ago, the Executive Commander asked our assistance in arranging for a traditional Iestan Ceremony of Passage for her son… which was quite well-received.”

  Roebuck nodded. If anyone needed help throwing a bash, it would have been Executive Commander Lear.

  “What we do around here may seem trivial,” Cranevaulter put in. “But I like to think of it as one of the most important functions of the whole ship. The crew gets so focused on exploring what is out there … ” he spread his arms expansively, pointing vaguely outward “…

  that they neglect to explore what’s in here. ” He drew his hands inward toward his heart. “That’s where we come in. That’s why what we do is so important.

  “So excellently put, Mr. Cranevaulter,” Alenia gushed. “Now, did you have a specific task in mind?”

  Eddie reclined in his chair. “I think I could lead by example. Look at me, positively no tension at all.” He held up one arm and flopped it over loosely, conveying his complete sense of relaxation.

  Alenia kept up her enthusiasm, but a little strain had crept into her voice. ”Relaxation counseling… that’s very interesting. You will require additional training before we can allow you to … counsel the crew on self-relaxation. Now, what else do we have.”

  Cranevaulter came in with a suggestion. “Are there any sports you like?”

  “Sports?” Eddie said. “Well, zah, football, Calvinball, I mean back in Halifax, I used to go to all the Halcyon games, and most of the Turbinado games.”

  “That’s good, but did you actually participate in any sports.”

  Eddie was blank for a minute, then he answered. “Ever hear of fizzball?”

  They shook their heads.

  “O.K., what you do is, you get a case of cheap, evil-smelling ale, like Rockhard, okay, or maybe Drillnut, if you can find it. Ideally, you want it to be in cans, not bottles. Okay, so then you find a park or an open lot. Then one assol sets himself up as the pitcher, and everybody else takes turn batting. The pitcher throws a can of ale and the batter tries to slam with the bat… or racquet if you prefer.”

  They waited for him to continue. When he did not, Cranevaulter asked “Is that it?”

  “Zah, pretty much.”

  “So, what is the point of the game?”

  “What’s the point of the game? Come on?” Eddie looked into their happy, polite, uncomprehending faces. “It’s fun for all involved. Everybody gets to see cans of ale smashed up. Everybody gets sprayed with cheap, evil-smelling ale. Everyone gets to dive for cover when the pitches go wild. It’s great fun.”

  “Perhaps sports are not your forte,” said Alenia. “And your academic record ends after two years at New Halifax City College.” Eddie thought she was being terribly polite to describe it that way. She could have said, “being thrown out of New Halifax City College.” She could have mentioned the restraining order. She could have mentioned how an entire wing of the Actinium Residence Hall had to be condemned. She could have mentioned the Dean of Student Life taking a two-year Sabbatical at a Monastery to steady her nerves, but she was being terribly polite. “I guess that leaves us with early childhood development.”

  Eddie warmed to the topic. “Oh, my dad died in a Mining accident when I was two years old. My mom went into a decline and died three years later. I was mostly raised by my Aunt Be, who was a little bit mental…”

  “That’s not what I meant, I was going to ask if you would be interested in working with young children?”

  A look came across Eddie’s face that said, “only in a hand’s-off, advisory capacity,” but Alenia must have misread it. “Do you like children Eddie?”

  “It’s been a long time since I’ve known any personally.”

  “If you ask me, molding young minds is one of the most noble things you can do in this life,” she went on, like a milk-beast grazing a meadow. “Coming from such a tragic childhood yourself, you must have developed a deep understanding of how to face up to all the traumas life presents to us.”

  “I guess,” said Eddie. He was thinking to himself that the best advice he could give to a child was not to be left an orphan and raised by a crazy maiden aunt. Cranevaulter’s face lit up, like he had just had a wonderful idea. “Why don’t we visit one of the Play Centers.”

  “Excellent idea,” Alenia enthused.

  They stood and led him through a wide, short corridor. “How much do you know about the Odyssey Project Principles for Extra-Parental Child Care?” Alenia asked.

  “Now that you mention it… pretty much nothing.”

  This time, there was no strained, polite laughter. “In accordance with Ministry of Families Policies and Sapphirean Custom, we are required to limit our personal influence on child guidance. The parents are expected to be the primary source of values and moral instruction. We can only supervise their recreation, maintain a safe environment, and provide them with stimulating educational materials.”

  Eddie nodded. Her words brought back a memory of Kindergarten in New Halifax, his very first day. Another child, a big, fat and spoiled child, with the unflattering and completely suitable name of Deuteronomy Jeruffah Khan, had become enraged when he threw a malfunctioning toy hard against the floor and it had bounced up and struck him in the eye. In his rage, he had swatted the girl who had given him the toy hard enough to knock her off balance. They both had begun wailing and a curious sympathetic response had gone through the class, and before long, they all had been upset
and crying, except for Eddie, who had sat calmly in a corner with his crayola-wand, coloring his genitalia turquoise. Cranevaulter added. “The parent-child relationship is paramount. Parents on Pegasus are only obligated to a four-hour duty-shift, to minimize separation from their children.”

  “Really?” Eddie said. “Maybe I should have a couple myself.”

  There were about a score of children in the playroom, with four adults watching over them. It was a largish, open space lit brightly with simulated sunlight. On one wall was a hologram, showing Eden from orbit. On the other wall was a hologram depicting autumn in Sapphire’s Kandoran Nature Preserve. The children themselves were clean-scrubbed, healthy, and strong; not a snotty nose or a dirty hand would be found among them. They played with building blocks, stuffed beasts, and read colorful books to one another.

  “Children,” called Alenia. “We have a new friend to meet today. Come over here.” In their irregular, distracted way, the group of children coalesced around Eddie and Alenia. “This is our new friend Eddie.”

  “Hoy, Eddie,” came a chorus of tiny voices. A few tiny hands waved in the air.

  “Hey, little monkeys, how ya’ doin’?” Many of the children giggled appreciatively. Alenia whispered to him, “Eddie, why don’t you share something with the children, to stimulate their young minds?”

  Eddie looked over the children. Their faces were bright and clean like newly minted commemorative coins. They were innocent, and eager, and the worst thing that would probably ever happen to them … was him.

  He looked to Alenia and CraneVaulter, and realized that these were the people he would have to work with if he moved to recreational services, and they would be the people who would determine his success in that endeavor. Every day would be a fresh obligation for happy talk and smiley face and happy regurgitation of how meaningful and important was to help people who were too terminally lame to come up with a good time on their own. Being flash-frozen and shot out of a missile launcher compared favorably.

  “Eddie?” Alenia, prompted.

  Eddie displayed his broad, winning, and dangerous smile. “I was just looking at all you shiny, happy children, and thinking about … this great big beautiful ship we all live in.” The children seemed to concur, a little restively. They had been told how big and beautiful the ship was a thousand times over. He counted on that. “I was wondering if any of you remember the first day your mom and dad brought you here.”