by Don Cook
Velbya stormed out of the Faith-Temple to the startled muttering of all present, including Trudierre, who did not know, in his arrogant disbelief, whether to “relish” Velbya’s “honoring” of him, or to see it for the viciously indicting slur it was.
In the melee of muttering among the mourners, Trudierre’s top aide/manipulator, Karalt-Buuties, a dark-haired, wimpish yet dashing handsome bearded man who sat beside the Minister-In-Chief, leaned over to his boss.
“Dr. Velbya-Koyne ven-Kylae” Buuties whispered to Trudierre. “Shouldn’t we put a tail on her?”
“Karry,” Trudierre whispered to Buuties, “she’s been discredited as just another hysterically sad madwoman who’s just lost it all. Pay her no mind.”
“But she could be politically embarrassing —!”
“Pay her no mind!” Trudierre asserted to Buuties in a harsh whisper. “If she makes one false move, Security Kannatika will pick up on it. Then, and only then, you may haul her gluties in, but not before. You work for me, Karry, not the other way around.”
“As you wish,” Buuties whispered solemnly. “I just hope you know what you’re doing.”
STREET AREA OUTSIDE BLESSED BENDIKTA FAITH-TEMPLE,
PLANET OKTAAVAEON, SKANDARIO PROVINCE, KANNATIKA
Velbya rushed out into the cold, darkly overcast and rainy streetscape outside the nationally famous faith-temple. As both maglev- and wheel-vehicles traversed the streets of the stately Kannatikan capital planet’s governmental seat-megacity, Velbya waited for a certain vehicle to pull up and stop for her. A large, farm-dirty heavy-plated scanner-proof farm transport wheel-truck marked “ZEE-VELL MEGA-FARMS” on both sides pulled up to the curb. Its front passenger-side door swung open.
“Hey, Lady!” asked Har, who was also no longer with KERC, and was about to defect from newly-totalitarian Kannatika along with all known presently disgraced survivors of the Rubiaar IV expedition. “Want a ride? I’ve got room in the back.”
“Sure,” said Velbya, equally ex-KERC, before she climbed in, closed the door, and headed for the rear of the vehicle. The wheel-truck peeled away from the curb.
ZEE-VELL MEGA-FARMS LOADING AREA
PLANET PERTORAAN, SKANDARIO PROVINCE, KANNATIKA
29 OCTOBER (EARTH-TIME)
Franq-Velleph, good-old-boy-portly graying and balding part-owner of Zee-Vell Mega-Farms, stood outside in his farmer’s coverall-like clothing, wearing a heavily soiled and faded heavy coat he had absconded years earlier to keep out the dull, near-wintry days’ cold, waiting outside his stadium-sized barn for a special shipment to arrive.
The wheel-truck that picked up Velbya rolled on through the front gate towards the barn, and stopped near the barn’s main door. The front doors opened, and Har and Velbya got out to meet Franq.
“So, this is the she-doctor we’ve been waiting for” Franq said gruffly.
“She is” Har said to Franq.
“Why in Perditia are we here?!” Velbya said, perturbed. She pointed her thumb backward towards Har and said with angry rapidity, “Yesterday, Har tells me to get my gluties into the rear of this wheel-truck, then tells me to sit tight back there along with my crucial papers, books, computer system, my hard drive of videoplays and other cyber- and media-stuff and the rest of my pack-and-carry possessions — I’m surprised, Har, that you didn’t take my furniture or the kitchen basin!”
“We couldn’t haul off all your things, Herbs” Har said, for comic relief’s sake.
“Then you have this, this wheel-crate loaded onto some vermin-populated grain-freighter headed for Yeshvah-knows-what star-system,” Velbya said, still riled, “and today, we’re all unloaded at some flea-ruled, rinky-doo spacedrome on some hick-stick-back-planet! Then you, Har, drive us here, wherever in Perditia here is!”
Franq quickly got surly at Velbya and told her bluntly, “Look, Lady-doc, I know this ain’t exactly five-starry accommodations, but space-smuggling ain’t fancy-flying!”
“Smuggling?!” Velbya said in astonishment. “Smuggling who? And to where?!”
“You smarties from Rubiaar IV’s Expedition fleeing off to Amkeria, that’s who!” Franq said. “And my wife, kin and I are coming with you. We’ve have had enough belly-aching from other Kannatikans about life, Amkeria, and whatever.” He turned to Har and asked, “Are the rest all ready?”
“We’re all good to go when you are, Lord Velleph,” Har said.
“But how are we all going to sneak out of Kannatika?” Velbya asked with trepidation. “Trudierre’s increased the Customs Forces at all the border-sectors!”
A steady wheezing sound slowly came from the sky, as a large delta-winged transport spacecraft that appeared to have seen better days slowly descended for a final approach near the barn and made a vertical landing.
Velbya, remembering the rough ride she had in the grain-freighter, was bitterly unimpressed.
“In that?!” Velbya said sarcastically, as she pointed with disdain at the past-its-prime container-aerospacecraft as it touched down.
Once the wheezing of the cargo craft’s engines ceased, a thin, bald, brown-skinned man who resembled Mahatma Gandhi in a coveralls-flight suit emerged from the pilot’s door of the space-freighter and walked up to the trio.
“You be Dr. Velbya-Koyne ven-Kylae?” said the transport’s pilot, with a monotone Hindustani-like accent.
“Yes,” Velbya said, trying to diffuse her disdain, and familiar with Bangindopaqis, having worked with many of their doctors. “I be she.”
Extending his hand, the pilot said, “Xuba-Kondi, of the Bangindopaqi Relief Aid Organization.”
Velbya and Xuba briefly shook hands, in traditional clasp-near-the-elbow fashion.
“How do?” Velbya said, with angry sheepishness.
“We bought a good amount of Amkerian seed-triticale. We can load you, your family and your friends onboard the star-freighter Star of Bangindopaq bound for Fixanvelt in Ohiraan State. We will unload you and yours, switch you with the grain, and have the Amkerians process you as refugees. Then we will load the Amkerian tritty onto the Star of Bangindopaq after the ship be refitted with enhanced fuel cells, return to the development-worlds in Bangindopaqi nation-space, and start planting the tritty.”
“Who donated the triticale?” Har asked Xuba.
“An Amkerian Yeshvahnite faith-charity donated the triticale seeds that they bought under proper charitable auspices. The Star of Bangindopaq will officially be carrying grain-seed, but in truth be taking you refugees as far as Fixanvelt. That’s where Franq, his kin, and you Expeditionnaires will get off, head for the Amkerian Immigrants Office, and request political asylum as we load tritty. Simple, be it?”
Xuba saw the revolted expression on Velbya’s face. Velbya, a lifelong champion of human rights against cruelty exploitive human smuggling, did not relish becoming a smuggled person.
“Look, Dr. Koyne,” Xuba tried to reassure her in his otherwise monotone voice as he talked with his hands, “I know you have battled human smuggling for much of your adult life, and rightly so. But we are a charitable organization, not a criminal one. We’ve worked with Franq for many, many years, as we had worked with Khraa-Veh’s parents when her family lived here in Skandario Province. I am getting Franq and his family out of this nightmare-realm because they are my dear friends, and I want to do the same for you and your ex-Expeditionnaires, my good Lady-Doctor.
“The Known Universe needs good mega-farmers like Franq in the Free Universe, of which Kannatika, sadly, is no longer a sibling-realm. So how about it, Doctor Velbya? Mere existence under that boy-tyrant Trudierre’s Shrionite lash?! Or truly living, as a free being?”
Velbya realized that since Trudierre’s Kannatika had become a pro-Shrion interstellar police-state in shockingly short order, there was no choice. And refugees who fled their evil home-realms often did so in less-than-comfortable modes of transit.
“Alright,” Velbya said heavyheartedly, “what’s next?”
“Be right back,” F
ranq said, and walked to his swine-barn.
A few minutes later, Franq returned along with his wife Aelyanne-Zeemonn ven-Velleph, their grown children and their spouses, and their grandchildren, along with the survivors of the Rubiaar IV Expedition, 120 persons in all, with each person toting all the belongings he or she could carry.
“We’re all ready, Xubie,” Franq said.
“Then this way, please, everyone?” Xuba said, motioning to the main rear hatch on the container-aerospacecraft’s port side.
Velbya, Aelyanne and the other women and children boarded first, followed by Har, Franq and the other men, and then Xuba himself. Everyone sat in a seat and fasted their seatbelts before Xuba said, “All seated and belted up?”
“Yep!” Franq said.
“I’m closing the hatch now” Xuba said, before he closed the rear hatch with a metallic thud and a pressure-whoosh, locked it, and walked to the cockpit door. He then entered the craft, closed the pilot’s door, and secured himself into the pilot’s seat.
The huge cargo vessel’s engines wheezed back to life before the container spacecraft lifted off vertically, and, aided in its ascent by its massive gravity-repulsing maglev delta wings, flew spaceward.
As the huge cargo craft flew into space, Franq said in sympathy, “Sorry I forgot to say it earlier, Dr. Koyne. Please accept my condolences on the death of your friends and loved ones. Sokky was quite a guy, and I’ve always liked Khraa-Veh since she was a little girl, when she and her dad Iozeff often came to my place to do business.”
“Somehow, Lord Velleph,” Velbya said, “while Isokk and two of the three Elheem children are indeed gone, Khraavie and little Aleeta are still alive.”
“But how?” a puzzled Franq asked.
“I’m a telepath, Franq, and I had mind-bonded with both Khraavie and her youngest girl” Velbya said. “They’re still alive. I just know...”
APARTMENT 1214, BELLA VILLA APARTMENT COMPLEX
MINNEAPOLIS, MINNESOTA, USA
30 OCTOBER 3:33 AM CENTRAL TIME
Khraa/Astra quickly woke from her deep vision-sleep about her “funeral”, Velbya, Har, Franq-Velleph and Xuba-Kondi. She stared into the darkness, baffled.
Khraa/Astra realized what Velbya, the other surviving Expeditionnaires, their children and her childhood neighbor Franq and his family were going through by fleeing Kannatika and leaving other friends and loved ones behind.
“The god speed you all, my friends” Khraa/Astra said. “The god speed you all.” She looked at her alarm clock, which read 3:34 AM, and was perturbed.
“Arrgh!” a perturbed Khraa/Astra snarled. “If I’m going to be wide awake enough for that Monty Python’s Media Circus of a press conference La Mis is staging, I’d better get some power-shut-eye!”
Khraa/Astra successfully forced herself into a power-sleep.
VALLEX: [in Mike Wallace-style inquisition] So you boarded this container-spacecraft…
KOYNE: Yes?
VALLEX: A spacecraft that was barely spaceworthy…
KOYNE: Yes?
VALLEX: Having championed the cause against human-smuggling in your past?
KOYNE: Yes, and I still do.
VALLEX: Why?!
KOYNE: Why what?
VALLEX: Why your change in attitude?
KOYNE: Look, Myak, there’s absolutely no change in my attitudes against human smuggling! I did in that moment what I sensed was right. And despite my doubts, as a telepath, I still stand by my actions, those of Har-Nyxxlon and the other Expeditionnaires, the extended family Velleph, Lord Kondi, the Bangindopaqi Relief Aid Organization, and the Seeds for Life Yeshvahnite Charity-Group. If you, Myak-Vallex, of all people, cannot for one nano-moment accept that what we did as necessary despite the ethics-stretching, then would you, Lord Vallex, have me and my fellow refugees all shipped back to Kannatika?! Or are you just another agenda-propelled, reverse-bigoted media liberalist?! Divulge yourself, Lord Vallex, to the full!
Excerpt from 40 Moments, “Forever A Refugee?”:
Interview with Dr. Velbya-Koyne ven-Makarrth
By Myak-Vallex, Interviewer/News-Scribe
STAR-FREIGHTER STAR OF BANGINDOPAQ
EN ROUTE TO FIXANVELT, OHIRAAN,
UNITED STAR-SYSTEMS OF AMKERIA (LIGHT-EONS FROM EARTH)
29 OCTOBER (EARTH-TIME)
“Are you sure you’ve got video media of the attack?” Velbya asked Har.
“It’s all here, Velbie,” Har said. “And in case we do not get out, I sent a backup copy to the Amkerians via the International Red Two-Planks Society’s Antihumanitarian Crimes Foundation. It’s got even more intel that what I have with me.”
“But how?!” Velbya said, in worried disbelief. “Trudierre’s lot would have got word of its —”
“Relax, Velbie. My mom was Amkerian. So, I used my dual-citizenship by birth to send those video copies to the Amkerian Embassy through the Red Two-Planks by diplomatic parcel. And trust me, it wasn’t cheap — or easy.”
Velbya sighed, relieved that Har sent video copies of the Rubiaar IV attacks to Amkerian officials by their peoples’ diplomatic pouch-like method through the Known Universe’s equivalent to Earth’s International Red Cross. Trudierre, with that evidence alone, could easily be tried and convicted speedily of crimes of crimes against pan-cosmic humanity.
“That was bravely ingenious of you, Har.”
“I only did what was right, Velbie.”
“Sobyit to that!” Velbya exclaimed.
“Sobyit!” the other refugee-passengers said.
“Sobyit from me, too,” Xuba said over the ship’s intercom. “We be entering the Kannatika-Amkeria Border-Zone in a little over one watch, so I will put the cargo area into stasis. You’re all in a hold well-surrounded by standard wooden grain-boxes, so with the stasis-field, you will all be shielded from Custom Force’s prying eyes. I have it all in hand, so pop your pills now, and happy dreaming.”
Every refugee-passenger popped one sleep-pill, strapped their heads into their seats’ anti-snoring headrest-harnesses, and fell fast asleep.
When Xuba saw that all in his precious cargo were safely asleep, he activated the stasis-field within the cargo area.
GUARD-DESK ROOM, FREIGHT INSPECTION SECTION OHI-SKA-39-K
BLUE STAR BORDER-STATION
KANNATIKA-AMKERIA BORDER-ZONE
30 OCTOBER (EARTH-TIME)
“Please state your personal name and nationality, the name of your agency if applicable, along with the name of your starship, its nationality of registration, your purposes in the United Star-systems of Amkeria, ultimate destination, and duration of stay in United Star-systems space,” said Amkerian Customs Forces Sergeant Bruut-Valkor to Xuba, who waited on the applicant’s side of the Customs Starship Registry counter.
Knowing he could not afford to betray his true, hidden mission of mercy, Xuba said bureaucratic word-perfect calmly, “Name: Ship-Captain Xuba-Kondi, Bangindopaqi, on behalf of the Bangindopaqi Relief Aid Organization. Name of starship: Star of Bangindopaq. Nationality of starship’s registration: Bangindopaqi. Purposes in the United Star-systems of Amkeria: Waystation transit stopover for enhanced fuel cell refit for longer-range starflight. Ultimate destination: Republic of Bangindopaq. Duration of stay in United Star-systems space: Three Standard-days. Here is my e-documentation.”
Xuba handed the required e-documentation to Valkor, who inspected it with eagle-eyed microscopic scrutiny. Valkor also checked the readout from the person-scanner where Xuba stood, then at the starship scanner that read the Star of Bangindopaq as clean of anything or anyone illegal on board. The Sergeant was satisfied with the e-documentation and the scans of the starship and its captain.
“All is in order, Captain Kondi,” Valkor said, as he handed the e-documents back to Xuba. “You’re cleared for entry, and for the duration, welcome to the United Star-systems of Amkeria.”
“Thank you, Lord Sergeant,” Xuba said, quickly bowing his head with a smile, before he exited the Guard-Desk
Room and headed back to the Star of Bangindopaq.
PARKING LOT, WAREHOUSE ALPH-3, CORTONN AEROSPACEPORT
FIXANVELT PLANET, OHIRAAN STATE
UNITED STAR-SYSTEMS OF AMKERIA
30 OCTOBER (EARTH-TIME)
“So, Har, what do we do, now that we’re no longer in Kannatika?” a worried Velbya asked in the foggy, lightly drizzling Fixanvelt night as Xuba sneaked into the darkness.
“It’s okay, Velbie” Har said. “I’ve got it all arranged.”
Three Amkerian Customs Forces hover-buses, enough to take the 120 refugees, glided up to the complement. Customs Forces Agents from the lead hover-bus walked up to Velbya and Har.
“Which one of you is Har-Nyxxlon?” asked the Senior Agent, a short, graying male who looked to be about 59 years of age.
“I am Har-Nyxxlon” Har said.
“Luuk-Arskyn, Customs Forces” the Senior Agent introduced himself, as he held up his badge. “I received word from the Red Two-Planks in accordance with your instructions, along with the detailed intelligence on the Rubiaar IV attack. I also understand that you and several others would be here, seeking political asylum in the United Star-systems. I had no idea it would be this many.”
“It’s true” Har said. “We’re all seeking political asylum. It’s no longer safe to stay in Kannatika, now that Trudierre’s seized total power.”
“I’m surprised, given the nature of the Kannatikan mind set, that anyone would leave at all” Arskyn said. “It’s not like a Kannatikan to want to leave his or her native star-realm for other than career or money-reasons. But since your information is of a sensitive nature, I think we can grant your people political asylum. But I cannot make any promises at this point, not until we’ve checked out your information on the Rubiaar IV attack. And we’ll need your help with that, Dr. Nyxxlon. And yours, too, Dr. Koyne.”
“You want my cooperation” Har said, “You’ve got it.”
“Mine, too” Velbya said.
“Fine” Arskyn said. “Let’s get your people to the shelters.”