by P. S. Power
"On most of the ships. Why? Do you think we're behind this attack? That isn't the goal, as far as I know. Not even the Firmament would try it. Going to war with the people we want to help makes no sense. Killing those people would just turn the rest of us inside still against them. The politics wouldn't work for that." She sounded both certain of that information, as if merely speaking a truth, and worried at the same time. It showed too, as she glanced at Mara and Clark, waiting for them to accuse her and those like her of anything, as long as it was bad.
Both Guardians looked at her though. Curious, rather than upset.
Pran was still holding herself, thin arms folded over her middle, trying to hold in what heat she could. It wasn't doing much to help, but she had to try.
Shaking her head, her teeth chattering, Pran cleared her throat.
"But if they can do something, and aren't to prevent being found out-" That didn't get the obvious pointed out, which was that no one was at the radio anymore, so it wouldn't matter.
Bard Clarice didn't even try to talk to Lars again. Or anyone in the room, just walking to the wooden box, the polished outside of it barely gleaming in the light of the gas lamp on the wall that had been set to light when they'd come in, it's blue flame hissing into the still dark morning. Instead, she slipped her hand to the left hand side, and pushed on a panel there and then pulled the piece up, exposing a different set of control knobs, as soon as Pran walked around to look at what she was doing.
She turned one of them, and the sound from the radio changed. Then she tuned the thing, moving past all of the voices that spoke to one another.
Without explaining, she finally started to talk again, her voice sounding strange. Tight and anxious, in a way that Pran had never heard from the lady.
"This is one-seven-three-one. Repeat; this is one-seven-three-one." She stopped, and a rather formal voice came across the device, sounding male and uninterested.
Bored, really.
"Go ahead, one-seven-three-one."
"We have a problem, just on the outskirts of Clement. Just south of Oaktree. A civilian airship is under attack. This appears to be a criminal matter, but the local authorities are requesting aid for The Remote. That's the name of the airship. Do you understand?"
"Ah.... No, I can't say that I do. Are we involved in this? How would they even know to ask about our help?"
Pran blinked, wondering if the man on the other end of the device was stupid, or just so wrapped up in his own little problems that he'd missed the part about an attack taking place? Moving in next to Bard Clarice she half growled at the man on the box.
"Pay attention! There's an attack on a grounded airship. Our people can't get there in time and this is a chance for you people to show that we aren't all enemies. Don't sit there being a moron, get whatever help you can out and save those people!" Then she remembered the whirly winged craft that she'd seen once, and what Clark had said to her, about wasted energy. It was a real point too, given everything. This had to be done right. "Try to do it using some of that new technology that uses very little energy. We have a meeting tomorrow, about a peace treaty, and showing that you both can and will help now might be important!"
She knew that her voice was too worried and didn't have a clue what the man could even do, or if he would, but Clarice cleared her throat and started speaking again.
"That could be effective, if we can pull this off. What do you have available?"
There was a pause, but finally a low laugh came.
"In something fast, and low energy? Bee drones. I can send a pod to that location. It will take... Fifteen minutes? Do you want the attackers alive? If so I need to get off of this thing and make sure we have up to the minute satellite data."
Whatever that was. Pran moved back in, pushing Bard Clarice, her boss, out of the way a little. The older woman's finger was still on the control speaking button however.
"Do it. Try to take the attackers alive, if possible. That way we can find out who they really are."
If she could think of this as being a trick to make the old time people seem like friends, when they really weren't, they probably could too. Worse, that would be brought up, unless there were people to put in front of a Judge about the whole thing.
The voice from the device seemed professional, even if she had sort of been calling him names. That was just stress speaking though. He was probably smarter than she was, or he wouldn't have whatever his job was.
"Copy that. We'll do that now. I'll report back to one-seven-three-one when the mission has been accomplished. Out."
Bard Clarice did her own pushing then, her face still worried seeming.
"Out."
Then the woman glanced at Pran, hard.
"Try not to do that again. At least until you learn the correct codes. It's bad enough if I accidently start a war. If you do it... Well, that's the sort of thing you don't want people singing about, isn't it?"
Pran nodded at the woman, since that was a real enough point.
"Forgive me. I overreached there. I just..." She looked at the wooden talking box and waved. "We're too far away to do anything ourselves. What's the use of having something like that, if you can't help anyone?"
That got a slow nod from Clarice, but Clark shook his head.
"Pran... It isn't our job to help everyone, all the time. People need to protect themselves. We're just here to make sure they get a chance to do that."
The man's scarred face looked troubled then, but there was nothing for it. Either the help came, and worked, or it didn't. Even if it used too much energy, it was too late to do anything else.
All they could do now, was wait.
Chapter thirteen
It was tense, uncomfortable and a bit boring, all at once, waiting for something to be reported. The first they heard about what had happened was from Apprentice Lars again. Not that he really understood what he was seeing.
The drones seemed to be something more than just male bees, like Pran had thought, and were really low powered and very efficient attack craft. Much faster than an airship, but they flew anyway, making almost no sound. When they'd gotten into place, they simply looked around for about a minute, then flew over to the attackers, hitting them with a weapon that Lars had never seen before. Pran either, though Clarice nodded at the description.
"I've heard of this. It's one of the new things to come out in the last year or two. If I have it right it uses compressed air to create a concussive force blast. It's focused, a bit like a laser, and-" She looked at everyone in the room and just stopped even trying to explain the way she wanted too. "Right. Well, it uses air to knock people out."
Pran had no clue how that would work, but nodded, since being agreeable was generally more helpful than being the closed minded one in the room.
"That sounds efficient. We'll want to have the Guardians look into it. For now..." She had no idea what they should do, but luckily, that wasn't her job. All she needed to get done was a bit of sleep before it was truly daylight out. The others were the ones that had to see about the proper handling of the situation.
"Hey... can um... That guy we talked to, send a report over about this for the meeting?" She needed to lie down, but her clothing wasn't really dry yet, and she wasn't going to strip in a room full of people. That meant, not wanting to get the bed wet, that she got her blanket and made up a little nest on the throw rug. She shouldn't soak anything, but her eyes wanted to close, and there was no reason, other than all the talking, that she couldn't do that there.
Well, the light didn't help, but after a bit she drifted off anyway, not dreaming much, that she knew of. It probably wasn't fair to call it real sleep, but she was able to rest for a few hours, getting up just as Clarice went to lay down herself, so that she could be fresh for the meeting later. Not having anything else to do, not being needed in particular, Pran headed off to work. It was light out as she walked, but still early enough that the streets weren't full of people. There were no
horses yet, except for one, being ridden by a rather dapper man in a blue coat that was the color of the sky, and a funny looking felt hat on his head.
Honestly, Pran wouldn't have noticed him at all, except that the man waved, trying to get attention for some reason.
"Excuse me, miss?" His voice was polite enough, so she stopped, wondering if he was planning to attack her for some reason.
Calling her miss like that, as she walked down the street, nearly freezing and not wearing a jacket... Well, that would be hard for most people to get, her body language not even giving away that she was a female really. Only the people from the past seemed to see her for who she really was that way, meaning this man was likely one of them. Getting her to stop couldn't be a good thing, could it? She didn't think so, and started to go for the sap that she had hidden in the back of her waistband, the tiny club being the only thing she had that might help her.
The man didn't look tough or anything, and smiled as she stopped, not watching her hands too closely. He looked at home on the back of his animal, which didn't mean much. She knew how to ride too, now. It had only taken a few weeks to get used to it. Yes, it was true that Pran had lived in the outer world, what the old time people called reality, but she'd still had to be taught how to do it. This man seemed better at it than she did, but that could mean anything.
She looked at him closely, and forced a smile she didn't feel. It was tiredness and lack of sleep that made her that way however, not anger.
"Hello! Have you come for the big meeting later today? The one about the people from the System?" She kept her hand ready on the little club, wondering if she should slip the wrist strap on, but the man just looked at her strangely for a few seconds, then shook his head, laughing.
"I am! I wasn't aware that everyone knew about that yet. Has there been an announcement about it? I just got word a few hours ago that I was supposed to report in here today. I kind of figured it was a trap." That got him to notice where her hand was, but the man didn't go for a weapon of his own, just smiling at her, if a little stiffly.
She pulled the thing then, and held it up, for him to see. It got a more genuine smile to come to his face, at least. It really was an unlikely thing to use on a man riding a horse.
"Just in case you're thinking of kidnapping me. Not that anyone would, but a girl can't be too careful these days. As to the meeting, I'm Pran." Looking around she saw that there was no one else out to hear her, meaning it was probably all right to tell the truth. More or less. "I put the thing together, along with Bard Clarice and Doctor Millis. Um... You know him as Michael Morse? I was just going to the office for the morning, to work on a sculpture. I suppose we could find someplace for your horse and a place for you to wait? It isn't really going to start until about two or three this afternoon. It takes time to get things put together like this." More than they were taking, but the man seemed pleased enough to hear her words, and didn't pull a weapon on her of his own, so it was a good start, she had to figure.
"Really? Well, that's a warmer welcome than I'd counted on. That sounds good. I'd love to get Betsy here out of the cold. Is there a stable around, or..." What else he was going for she didn't know, but he was willing to get off and walk with her, and then let the floor boy call for a groom to take the old mare away to a warm stable. That was what the chubby cake loving boy told them at least. She stood there shivering and talking to Salle, as that was handled.
At the door, when she started to go in, she paused, again, and waved at the man in his light blue coat and round tall hat. A top hat, she thought, having seen one in the props room a few times back in school. It was pretty out of place, but looked good. New, and dark black.
"Hey, Salle, are you up on the meeting thing we have going on later?" She still had the sap in her hand, the wood in her palm and the strap around wrist securely, the Guardian at the door looked at it but focused on the man behind her.
"Some. Is this one of them?"
She nodded, appreciating the shorthand, since it would let her get into the warmth more quickly.
"That's right. We should have others coming in all day. If anyone is coming for the meeting early... I guess you should send them up to Bard Clarice's office? I'll have some tea ready. Snacks or whatever a proper hostess does. I guess people are traveling in for this? I didn't think it was going to be that big." She had to resist pushing the Guardian out of the way, and hoped that he wasn't going to insist they wait while he worked up people to watch the new comer. Her teeth were chattering, and her hands were going numb. Pran didn't want to mention it, since it made her seem weak, but getting inside was pretty attractive at the moment to her way of thinking.
Thankfully, Salle, Guardian or not, was willing to let them in openly and stepped out of the way.
"I'll send anyone that comes up to you, directly."
"Thanks! I'll get this back to you. I should give it to you now, but..." She hefted the little piece of wood, but the man actually smiled.
"Later. If you need it, then you'd best be ready. These are dangerous times, so be wary."
The other man, who needed to be named soon, Pran realized, cleared his throat, as he walked back.
"Indeed. Dangerous, heady and amazing times. Filled with perils, but also the chance for a better world. Don't confuse a hand extended in friendship, for one holding a tool of war." The words were lightly spoken and friendly. There was a smile to go with it as well.
Salle nodded, seriously.
"Perhaps. It's not me that you have to convince of that however. If you truly mean it, then I wish you luck. If not, then... Well, I hope that you do." The words were a bit flat, but seemed sincere.
After the door shut, the man in black left outside the door, she grinned and gestured broadly toward the stairs, the warmth of the space feeling wonderful after the chill of the morning air.
"I think he likes you. The first time I met him, he pulled a kinetic pistol on me. I'm pretty sure I was no more than two seconds from death at the time."
She was just talking, mainly because she didn't know what else to say, but the man gave her a dubious look. It was overdone and clearly meant to be overstated for affect.
"Come now! A cute young lady like yourself? Why would one of the Guardians do that? Did you throw a bit of paper to the floor? Or suggest we bring back the internal combustion engine?"
She had no clue what the second one was, but couldn't imagine throwing paper on the ground. It was too valuable for that kind of treatment, wasn't it?
"Nope. I was merely too different from what he expected. He got used to me, however, so it worked out." Then, as they got to the second floor landing, she paused, then stopped the man, waving at the door. "We need to go one floor up, but I want to talk to the floor boy, if he's still here." She hadn't heard that they were replacing him, but it would make some sense, wouldn't it? He was a spy, after all.
It seemed that no one had thought about it, and he was in his little cubby, openly reading a book when she stepped over.
"Tims! How are you doing this morning?" It was a polite kind of thing to say, and the boy smiled, as if she were really just stopping to chat.
"Well, Bard Pran. What may I do for you today?"
Opening her mouth, thinking to simply ask him to the meeting later, an idea popped to the front of her mind. It was a strange thing, but made some sense, so she went with it.
"We have a big meeting today. People from the past, from the System, are coming in to meet with some of the High Councilors, trying to come to a treaty agreement. I'd like you to question each of them and try to find out what their political alliances are. You know Coalition, Firmament, that kind of thing? Or whatever it is they are. It will help me keep tabs on things, and hopefully get something useful through, so that I can get back to my real job soon."
The boy, who was probably three centuries older than she was or more, didn't respond with shock, nodding instead.
"I can do that. Is this the first of them?" He stood a
nd leaned over his small desk, his hand held out to clasp the other mans. "I'm called Tims here. Brandon Clemet."
The man in blue smiled.
"Really? I've heard of you. Aren't you the second in command of the Coalition?"
That was news to Pran, but she stayed relaxed, wondering if she could take the boy in a fight. It wasn't likely. Really, if he'd just been an unarmed floor boy, it would have been risky for her, since he was still bigger than she was. If he was some kind of ancient warrior that had done nothing but practice for centuries, preparing for what he was doing now... Well, she didn't think it would be too likely that she could survive for long if that happened. It was hardly fair, was it?
Then, life wasn't. Not ever. Someone always got the low end. The goal was to make certain that wasn't you, if you could.
Tims gave a single, very small, nod.
"Correct. You are?"
The man, who was taller than the boy, but otherwise of similar build, paused for a second. It made it seem like he was thinking of a good lie, but his words seemed easy enough.
"Darnel Nix. I'm here at the direction of Michael."
That seemed to mean something, and Tims looked at Pran, then sat and started to write something.
"Darnel Nix... The movie critic?"
"Once upon a time. For the last few hundred years, experiential, I've been working on improved energy control devices. That's why I was allowed to come outside, you know. In order to begin a baseline infrastructure for thermal reactive bio-electrics. We're using a fungal substrate growing method for it, which is slow, as you might suspect, but the end product is high quality, without waste that can't be used for other things." The man looked over at her when he said all of this.
Like she could understand what he was saying? Fungal... That meant mushroom. She thought. The rest of what he said might have as well been in a different language, and honestly might be.
Tims seemed impressed however, and made a note about what the man said. It took almost two minutes of writing, before he spoke.