NAAN (The Rabanians Book 1)

by Dan Haronian

  She looked up at me when I stepped through the gate and stood when I walked over to her desk. She pulled her long black hair back to reveal a beautiful, yet agitated face. Her body was slim but she didn't look emaciated. She bowed a bit and waved to the chair in front of her desk. We both sat, her look was still serious.

  “How can I help you?” she asked.

  “I would like to hire a messenger,” I said hesitantly.

  “Where do you want him to go?”

  “Naan,” I said.

  She looked at the screen in front of her, surfed, and her neck sensor vibrated. “There is a cargo shuttle right now at the airport that is planning to leave today, but there seems to be a major problem with the network and everything is delayed. I could send someone on this shuttle once it is possible.” The sensor on her neck vibrated again and when it stopped she said, “It will cost extra though.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  She stared at me as if wondering why I was asking such a question.

  “No really, why will it cost me more?” I was more specific.

  “It’s a cargo shuttle?” she replied in a questioning tone still staring at me.

  Her look confused me. I didn't understand why that would make it more expensive. Was it because a cargo shuttle was uncomfortable, or more dangerous? I decided to let it go and pulled out the credit card and handed it over.

  “Is this your first time purchasing messenger services?” she asked.

  “Correct,” I said.

  “So you probably don't know the rules.”

  “There are rules?”

  “Formatting rules. In order for the message to be reliable it needs to include as much personal information as possible so that the receiver will know it came from you.”

  “I see,” I said hesitantly. Even with the messengers services it seemed nothing was certain.

  “So who is the message from and to whom is it addressed?”

  I looked away from her, thinking.

  “The information is from the Shepherd to Daio Plaser the Shepherd of Naan."

  She nodded, “What is the content of the message?”

  “The Shepherd is well. The herd arrived, but there were disruptions in the transportation.” I pondered for a moment before adding, “And as agreed, I will not return.”

  She paused for a moment and then said in a reciting voice, “The sender is the Shepherd. The address is city of Naan on the planet Naan. The recipient is Daio Plaser the Shepherd of Naan. The message’s content is: “The Shepherd is well. Stop. The herd arrived, but there were disruptions in the transportation. Stop. And as agreed, I will not return. End.”

  She looked at me, “Is that correct?”

  I nodded and she charged my card. “How can we reach you?”

  “Reach me?”

  “To confirm that the message has arrived at its destination. Sometimes recipients send a reply, so we need to know where to send the messenger.”

  “Ahh… I am a guest here,” I said, "I haven’t even found a hotel,” I added with smile. “Maybe I can contact you?”

  “Come back here in few days to verify delivery.”

  “I will,” I said and stood up.

  She stood as well, and bowed without taking her eyes off me. Messenger agents must be very suspicious people, I thought to myself and nodded to her.

  I walked back to the terminals, sat down at one, and surfed to the report about the new status quo. The network traffic was still heavy and the surfing was slow, but I scrambled my way in and bypassed it all. I blasted through the news channels defenses and entered the head editor’s terminal. I replaced the report about the status quo with a new title: "The Status Quo with the Desertians is in Danger". I rewrote the body of the report. When I was done the text said that the rebels from the desert were responsible for an information scrambling event on an important Seragonian network site. I added that they had used sophisticated scrambling techniques to undermine the relations between Mampas and Seragon. I also wrote that the government of Mampas had been forced to apologize to Seragon. I implied that the actions of the Desertians had undermined their relations with Mampas and had put at risk the status quo.

  I ran a text tester to make sure my knowledge of the language did not compromise the reliability of the report and expose my revisions. I backed out of the site carefully making sure to cover my tracks. I looked back at the agent I’d spoken with. She and the other agents all seemed to be busy looking at something. I didn't look where they were surfing. I didn't want to stay there anymore. I only noticed the reliability factor of my report dropped from 0.5 to 0.4. It would go down to 0 in time, but it wouldn’t matter anymore.

  I left the messenger office and walked the streets of Mampas City for a few hours. When evening fell, I stopped a taxi and asked the driver to take me to the other side of the city. At the edge of the desert I found a nearly deserted motel. I rented a room, took a shower, and ate dinner. In the morning I went back to the city to check the news on the network.

  The data transfer speed had recovered a bit and the surfing was faster this time. The information I’d scrambled had created waves and appeared, though in different versions, on several other news channels.

  The reliability factor of the report dropped to 0.3, but this didn't prevent many people from taking note of it. I found another report, with a high reliability factor, saying the government of Mampas was denying that anyone from Mampas was responsible for scrambling into anything on Seragon. I also found a report about the Butu hotel. All of the hotel workers, as well as the hotel guests, were being held for questioning. Another news channel report contained a heart-breaking interview with the hotel’s owner speaking in a heavy Desertian accent about the difficulties he was having. He was making plans to sell the hotel. All of the stories about the hotel confirmed to me that the authorities had taken the bait in my little misdirection trap.

  A few days later reports surfaced about the clarification meetings between Mampas and Seragon. There was much speculation as to what the meetings were about. There were conflicting reports saying that such meetings never took place, while others that completely denied that there was ever an attempt by someone on Mampas to scramble into a site on Seragon. I even found a report saying that the government of Mampas was planning a raid on the rebels’ bases in the desert. This report clearly contradicted the denials by the government that anything had happened and still its reliability factor was high.

  The most absurd report I found said that the Desertian rebels didn't really exist, and that the government invented them in order to win the sympathy of the people. The reliability factor of this report was 0.

  Five months after arriving on Mampas, and four weeks after I’d scrambled my way into Shor, I finally made it back to the airport. It was evening. Since I‘d left my rental car on the side of the highway, I’d changed hotels almost once every two days.

  I’d continued to come to the center of the city almost every day. On every such visit I’d entered a crowded information center to check out what was happening in the investigation into the scrambling incident. I also went deeper sometimes to learn what is happening under the surface.

  In spite of my hesitation I bought a ticket on a passenger spacecraft that was about to leave for Naan. I hesitated because I’d promised my brothers there would be no way to tie me to Naan. I could have reduced the risk by not traveling directly to Naan from Mampas, but I didn't have enough credit remaining for such a long trip.

  The message I’d sent was also a risk, but it was the only way I had to let them know what was happening. They must have seen the network slowing down, and I assumed they read the news from Mampas, so they must know something had happened. I had to let them know I was still alive and that the mission had been accomplished, although I still didn't know how successful I’d been.

  Then I discovered a report in the airport news about the new cargo shuttle that was about to leave to Naan. Digging a little deeper I found that th
e shuttle was parked in hangar 54. Returning to Naan as a clandestine passenger was better than flying over on an official flight. It was a risk, but without any identifying signs it was mainly my personal risk. Nothing could ever be tied back to Naan.

  I struggled with the question for several days. I visited the airport several times to learn about the current security arrangements. I wanted to see if the tension had dropped enough for me to slip through. There were several ways to get to the shuttle, but with the limited capabilities I had there was only one I felt comfortable with. My earlier experiences had taught me that airport security was mainly based on preventing penetration of the first circle: the field itself. To get through the secure doors leading to the field you had to be an employee, or a very good scrambler. Luckily the security around the field didn't take into account the second category. I found that not only could I break the codes on the doors and shutdown surveillance cameras for a few seconds, but I also could clear my way to the field and circumvent the expected obstacles along the way to the shuttle. Once I was past these obstacles, my chances of successfully sneaking onto the shuttle would increase dramatically.

  I decided to sneak into the shuttle. In the end, I was happy I’d found it. It was as if it had popped up especially for me. I felt I had no choice but to take advantage of my luck. In preparation I bought a brown shirt, black pants, and a hat, similar to those worn by airport security staff. The only things that were missing were the logo pin on the hat and the airport tags on the shirt. I could have gotten these things at a hardware store but I decided not to. Clothes are clothes, but if I wore the logo pin and airport tags it would mean I was posing as a security guard. It wasn’t worth it. When I arrived at terminal five I walked into one of the bathrooms, pulled the new clothes from my backpack, and changed into them.

  On the other side of the wall in terminal five was an emergency corridor. An emergency door in the front part of the terminal, before the countless checkpoints, led directly to it. I chose this door because if I walked towards it at the right angle most of my front side would be hidden from the surveillance cameras.

  Outside the door, I waited for a wave of new arrivals to crowd into the area. It didn’t take long. In the confusion, I crossed the brown carpet and walked the ten or so steps to the door. A small control board was mounted next to the door. I scrambled into the closest information circle until I heard the door click. Without looking back, I opened the door, as if it was a casual thing, and slipped in.

  I closed the door behind me and walked along the corridor up to a small closet. The sign on the door read fire clothes. I pulled out a heavy, gray vest with reflective stripes and slung it over my shoulders. I rushed to the next door. It was some distance away. Once there I used the door control panel to disable the motion sensors in the warehouse behind the door, and open the lock. I ducked inside and walked along the warehouse’s wall. It was crowded with cargo. When I got to the outer wall that bordered the field I opened another door and felt the cool air rushing in.

  I walked to the edge of the structure. I squinted at the number on the next hangar. It was 59. I turned left and started walking past the hangars. I passed several shuttles and hovercrafts, but continued walking until I found hangar 54. An old shuttle stood outside, in front of the hangar, with its loading docks open. Three conveyors ferried cargo into the lower decks and two cranes were loading long containers onto the upper deck. Folding stairs extended from the ground to the bottom of the shuttle. I knew they led to the lower deck elevator and were one of the primary ways for the crew to enter and exit the shuttle.

  I walked away from the hanger along the field and crossed it. This area of the field was empty and dark. I then turned and watched the shuttle from the shadows. The loading rate slowed down in time and after a while I heard several people talking as they came down the stairs. They wore white overalls and were talking loudly. It sounded like they were arguing about something. A few other workers joined them and they started to walk away from the shuttle toward the hangar across the field.

  It was suddenly very quiet. I waited a few moments, but no one else appeared to be around the shuttle. I walked quickly under the shuttle and up the stairs to the lower deck. Beside the elevator door was another door with a small picture of stairs. I opened the door and went up to the first cargo bay. I found a dark corner and hid myself as best I could.

  My heart was pumping hard. It had all seemed too easy, but again I thought that no one else could've disabled the defense system along the way. I didn't have time to contemplate this before I suddenly heard engine noises coming from outside. Seconds passed. There was an echoing, pounding sound and a faint whistle from the engines. The whistle grew and drowned out the other noises. I thought about how lucky I’d been.

  The whistle changed to a roar and the shuttle started to move. A small, round window, some distance away, cast a dim glow through the cargo bay. I thought it was from the field lights. I guessed the shuttle was moving away from the buildings.

  I was excited when I was suddenly pushed toward the floor as the shuttle left the ground. The acceleration grew and I sunk into a flexible net that was hooked to the wall behind me.

  I shut my eyes thinking that the first thing I would do when I arrived back on Naan would be to take a long trip into the mountains. A minute passed, and my excitement grew when I felt weightless. The net that held me to the wall loosened and I started to float. My thoughts about the trip to the mountains of Naan reminded me that after so long on Mampas it would take time for me to get used to the thin air of Naan.

  I frowned. My thoughts all seemed to be focused on my personal needs and I had to remind myself that there was a reasonable chance I’d failed in my mission. It didn't really matter whose fault it was that I hadn’t had the right answer to Shor's questions. Daio's face came to mind and I thought about how terrible it would be if this trip turned out to be useless.

  The weightless feeling suddenly started to fade. I wasn't expecting it and it caught me off guard. This was a cargo bay. It wasn’t designed to have artificial gravitation, so why was I feeling heavier again. The shuttle made a short maneuver and a bad feeling started to creep into my heart. Light started to stream in again from the window. I stood up and walked over to it. Mampas, in all of its glory, was gradually filling the window.

  The shuttle arrived at its destination as planned. En route the copilot in charge of all communications reported they had a guest on board. He didn't know anything more than that, as messengers didn’t communicate with anyone around them while on duty.

  A car approached the shuttle after it landed. The driver rushed out, opened the back door and stood beside it. The messenger, wearing black clothes and cape, walked towards him and handed him a card. It included the round-trip fare to town and the exact address of their destination.

  Messengers never came to Naan. Not because of the Naanites superstition that gazing into a messenger’s eyes caused blindness, but simply because there was no one here that was worthy of such a visit. The driver was being careful not to look into his passenger’s eyes as he got into the back seat. The car wobbled as it always did when someone with higher than average center of gravity got in. After he was seated, gently, so as not to risk the messenger's temper, the driver closed the door and rushed to his seat.

  After a short drive, and some maneuvering in the narrow streets, they arrived at the gate of the house. Moah opened the gate and the car pulled up to the front of the house. The driver rushed outside to open the door but the messenger was already out.

  “Daio Plaser?” said the messenger when Dug came walking towards the car.

  “Daio is not here right now,” said Dug.

  “Find him please,” said the messenger in fluent Naanite.

  Dug stared at him for a few seconds and the driver shook his head. Dug had never seen a messenger before. He assumed the messenger’s arrival was related to Sosi, and not in a good way. He swept his hand toward the house and the messenger
walked towards the house. Once inside Dug waved to the living room and when the messenger walked in, he rushed into the kitchen to call Daio.

  “There is a messenger here for you,” he said excitedly as soon as he heard Daio on the other end of the line. When the call came through Daio was airborne in a hovercraft for the third time in the past three weeks. He was flying over places he planned to build new settlements.

  “I have what?” he asked.

  “A messenger. You know, from a messenger service? A messenger,” said Dug.

  Dug nodded to himself, and peeked into the living room. He could only hear bits of conversation Daio was having with someone.

  “I am coming,” Daio said finally.

  It was a few minutes before the hovercraft stopped above the house, made a few maneuvers, and then landed on the landing pad they’d just added at the end of the lawn.

  “Wait here,” he said to the people on board the hovercraft. “I think this is going to be short.”

  He rushed into the house and stepped into the living room. The messenger turned towards him.

  “Daio Plaser?” asked the messenger.

  "Yes, that's me," said Daio.

  “I need two non-relatives to bear witnesses, who have no blood connection between them, to testify that you are indeed Daio Plaser.”

  Daio stared at him. “There is a whole nation that will testify that I am Daio Plaser.”

  “Two people will be sufficient,” insisted the messenger.

  Daio asked Dug to call Moah and one of his assistants. They arrived with their eyes on the ground.

  “Is this Daio Plaser?” asked the messenger.

  Moah looked at Daio for a second and then nodded. “Yes this is Daio Plaser.”

  Moah nudged his assistant’s arm. The man gave Daio a quick look and said, “Yes, this is Daio.”

  The messenger nodded. “Please clear the room,” he said and approached Daio.