by Mark Wandrey
“I think I met him.”
“Huh?”
“Nothing. Do a lot of Chosen do that?
“Mostly the older ones, those of us that survived. We spent a lot of hours on desolate worlds with nothing to do. What can I say, boredom is ugly.”
Minu nodded and thought. “Jovich, do you believe in God?”
“Which one?”
“Funny.”
“I’m not kidding; there are a lot of religions on this world, and even though none represent more than a few percent of the population, they can’t all be right.”
“Why not?”
“Because at least one worships the Tog, and another the Concordia in general. Once you smell a Beezer the first time…”
“I get where you’re going.” She sighed and looked back at the swirling portal. “Is it safe?” she asked, gesturing at the portal. “Sitting there hours on end, soaking up stray rads?”
He shrugged. “Now that you’ve spoken to God, what’s your plan?”
“I think I’m going to go see a movie.” He nodded and took out his control rod to unlock the chamber. Minu bit her lip for a second, then spoke suddenly. “Why didn’t you ever tell me you were a First Among the Chosen?”
Jovich froze, his arm outstretched, the rod pointing but unused. She saw him take a deep breath, then visibly shrink. “It was a long time ago.”
“That doesn’t matter. I’ve tried looking at your mission logs, but the last ones are all redacted.”
“I know. That was my last official action. No, don’t ask,” said the aged man Minu had thought she knew so well. He turned to her. The expression on his face chilled her to the bone. “There are some things I won’t talk about, not even with you.” He turned back, opened the room, and walked out without another word.
* * * * *
Chapter 2
December 10th, 517 AE
Tranquility, Plateau Tribe
After the strange excitement of the meditation session with Jovich, followed by his tense response to her questions, Minu decided she needed some sleep. The next morning after breakfast, the mundane fun of an old-fashioned movie was just what she needed. The new movie complex was a dazzling merger of the anachronistic and modern. They’d used Concordian technology to design and construct the buildings and controls, and five-hundred-year-old movies from a long-dead world were the entertainment. They’d made a few contemporary movies in Nuevo Hollywood, the scattered movie industry on Bellatrix, but, like most people, she was here to experience the past.
Minu got some snacks and watched a couple of movies from the early twenty-first century, filmed just before the end of the world. The first was an animated child’s film called Cars. She laughed along with everyone at the humorous antics of anthropomorphic vehicles, and like many when it was over, she felt a strange mix of happiness and loss. Next she saw a movie called Matrix Revolutions. This one was much darker, telling the story of a humanity enslaved by machines. She found the portrayal of the advanced machine technology laughable, while the ad hoc human technology was strangely reminiscent of what humanity did every day with salvaged Concordian tech. Most interesting to her were the huge manned walkers used as combat vehicles. Who in their right mind would build such a monstrosity and not bother armoring the pilot’s station? She found the plot generally contrived and pretentious, with an overuse of quasi-religious elements. Some weeks later she found out it was a sequel and watched the previous two, as well. Even taken in context, the trilogy was confusing and disjointed.
The afternoon was advancing rapidly, so she decided to check out the new amusement park built on the East Ridge. The press of families waiting for admission almost made her reconsider. As she waited, she noticed the mothers, fathers, and kids looking forward to a sunny afternoon of fun. It was a painful reminder of what she’d lost. First her mother, then her father. Being an only child had seemed like an advantage growing up; most of her school friends had multiple brothers and sisters. Now she found herself wishing for someone to visit with besides Jovich, someone from her past to give her guidance and a familial connection.
She abandoned the park and returned to her hotel, bypassing the restaurant and ordering room service. She would have balked at eleven credits plus tip a few hours ago; now she keyed her card and accepted the charges without thinking. Outside the sound-proof window, the city of Tranquility buzzed and hummed with life. She couldn’t hear the honking cars below or the humming gravitic impellers of the aerocars flitting by in the air above. Only a low rumble of machinery from her building’s air conditioning system carried through the walls. She sat in the oversized arm chair and watched as Bellatrix slowly set and the tiny moon, Romulus, raced into the eastern sky. The room grew dark, and her meal sat half-eaten on the desk. Sitting in the big chair, she slowly drifted off to sleep.
Sometime in the middle of the night she woke. She sat up straight in the dark hotel room and looked around in confusion at the strange surroundings. This isn’t my apartment in Steven’s Pass, she thought. Her personal communicator chirped, and the hotel room slowly came into focus. Minu yawned, stretched her sore neck, and pulled the communicator from her pocket. According to the display, it was just after five o’clock in the morning. Outside, the city was at low ebb; there was very little traffic and most businesses were closed. Romulus had set and would rise again in an hour; Remus was low on the horizon. She checked the caller’s identification when her communicator chirped again. “Civilian,” it simply reported. If it had been a fellow Chosen, she’d have seen their information. She almost told the phone to ignore the call, but halfway to the bathroom, she shrugged and pressed the answer button. “Chosen Alma,” she said.
“Is this Minu Alma, daughter of Chriso Alma?” asked a feminine voice.
No one referred to Minu that way. She was a member of the Chosen, and her accomplishments helped identify her as such. It was only in the ‘outside world’ that people sometimes referred to her as the daughter of Chriso Alma. “This is Chosen Minu Alma,” she told the caller, “my father was Chriso Alma.”
“It took quite a bit of doing to get this number.”
“Well, you got it, and I was asleep, so maybe you can tell me who you are and what you want?”
“Sorry, I thought you were at Steven’s Pass…”
“That is my assignment; I’m in Tranquility on vacation.”
“Sorry, its nine o’clock in Steven’s Pass.”
“I understand that, but who are you?”
“Oh, sorry again.”
“You can stop apologizing and answer my question.”
“Right. My name is Tara Alma; do you remember me?”
Minu thought for a long moment. There were a few other Almas on Bellatrix, but this one’s name struck a familiar chord. She would have remembered a lot faster if she hadn’t just woken up from a deep sleep. Then it came to her. “Aunt Tara? Dad’s sister?”
“You remembered,” the woman said, sounding surprised and pleased.
“We met a couple of times before my mother died.”
“Your father was never the social type.”
“What can I do for you, Aunt Tara?”
“We need to meet. I have something to give you.”
“You can mail it to my attention or give it to any Chosen you know.”
“That isn’t an option. I’m afraid I have to give this to you in person.” Minu sighed and considered hanging up. “Look, I don’t like this any more than you do. The fucking Chosen have taken so many of the people I’ve known that I can’t keep count. This will only take a few minutes. I’m in the city of Gulf.”
“Desert Tribe ocean port, I know where it is.”
“Figured you would. The maglev doesn’t come this far, so it could take you a day or two to get here.”
“Is it that important?”
“Your father must have thought so.”
“He’s been gone for more than two years.”
“He wanted you to have what I, I mean this…shit. He said
to give it to you.”
“What is it?”
“I can’t tell you. Can you come?”
Minu considered. If this was her aunt, and she had no reason to believe she wasn’t, she had nothing to gain from dragging herself half way around the planet just for old time’s sake. What could this long-lost aunt have that her father wanted to be sure she got? Some family heirloom? A message left before he died? It was just enough enticement. “I can be there by tomorrow morning.”
“How can you—”
“I am Chosen, remember.”
“Oh, right.”
“Give me your address.”
“The Gulf Providence Hotel. It’s about the only decent place in town; you can’t miss it.”
* * *
A couple hours later, Minu had begun to think her commitment to get to Gulf by the next day was a bit too ambitious. She’d showered as soon as she disconnected, repacked her belongings, and left the hotel inside an hour. The manager wasn’t in yet, so she’d left a note saying she was checking out early and left the key on the counter. Outside, in the early morning light, she flagged down a new, modern aerocab and jumped in.
“Where to?” the driver asked without looking back at her.
“I don’t suppose this thing can get me to Gulf?”
“I doubt you can afford it,” the driver said, then turned and saw she was Chosen. “Oh, sorry ma’am. Normally I can, but this car is due for recharging, so I don’t have the range.”
“Just my luck. Take me to the aeroport.”
The cab rose into the air, then arrowed upward. Although the vehicle was new to Tranquility, the cabby knew how to use it. He piloted with self-assurance that bordered on arrogance. He took the most direct route, which went right over a couple of factories on the south ridge. The updrafts rocked them from side to side, and twice he dodged commercial transports lumbering along with their loads of goods.
What would have taken almost an hour in a ground cab only took ten minutes in the air, but it cost three times as much. Minu paid the ten credits and climbed out at the deserted entrance to the aeroport.
“Anything going to Gulf other than dirigibles?” she asked the tired-looking ticket attendant.
He glanced at her uniform and shook his head. “Chosen transport left a half hour ago.” Minu cursed her decision to take a shower. “Won’t be another one for two days.”
She thanked him and wandered back into the street. The aerocab was gone. Since she didn’t have anywhere to go, she headed back toward town, deep in thought, trying to come up with another option. She knew the maglev could only get her within a thousand kilometers. They weren’t due to complete the spur to Gulf for more than a year. A dirigible would take a week or more, and besides her commitment to her aunt that she’d be there the next day, she didn’t have enough leave. She had to report back in three days. Her options were down to zero. Minu shrugged and took out her communicator to look for Aunt Tara’s number. She needed to make alternate plans.
As she stopped to dial the number she almost bumped into a man unlocking the doors to his business. “I’m sorry,” she said distractedly, “pardon me.”
“Not a problem young lady…er, I mean Chosen! I don’t think I’ve ever met a female Chosen!”
“There aren’t very many,” she admitted and looked up at him. He was a very congenial-looking man in his late fifties, balding and carrying an extra twenty kilos or so around his waist. He held a bag smelling strongly of deep fried food in one hand and a steaming cup of cappuccino and the keys to his business in the other. “Let me help you,” she said and took the keys.
“Very kind,” he said with an even bigger smile. He didn’t fool Minu. Her Chosen uniform was snug, as was necessary for her job. The fabric hugged her body but was flexible enough to allow freedom of motion. The way it emphasized her slim hips and breasts no longer phased her, but the attention she drew from healthy, red-blooded men of all ages still startled her. She’d considered wearing a sports bra under the uniform, but the strap lines were super visible and spoiled the neat cut of the uniform. Being small-chested had some advantages.
He took his keys, and with more thanks, went inside, turning on lights and setting down his food. Minu returned to her phone, then hissed in annoyance. The Chosen communicator wasn’t a cheap cellular phone like most residents of Bellatrix used. It was a satellite phone that used orbiting repeaters which were very expensive to launch, as they sourced that work to a Concordian contractor. They’d only put five satellites into orbit, so they could keep the costs under control. That meant that 10% of the time no one could get a signal. To mitigate the situation, they’d added transmitters to the planet’s two moons. Now less than one percent of the time there was no signal. Of course this was that one percent. The phone dutifully informed her that they would restore the signal in ten minutes.
“Problem?” the man asked, leaning out the door. She doubted he was being helpful for purely altruistic reasons.
“I can’t get a signal. I’ll walk down to the next phone booth.”
“Why is a Chosen walking?”
“We’re only people. We can’t actually fly.”
The man laughed heartily, though his eyes betrayed some annoyance. “No, I mean shouldn’t you have an assigned vehicle, or one of your own?”
Minu held up her sleeve, so he could see the four gold stars. He examined them with curiosity, giving no indication that he understood her meaning. “I am not very high ranking in the Chosen,” she explained, “and besides, most Chosen don’t ride around in chauffeured vehicles. That’s not how we operate.”
“Still, I know many Chosen who own cars.”
She wondered why he was so persistent, when she noticed what his business was. Inside the building, clearly visible through the huge glass storefront windows, was a phalanx of shiny new aerocars. Suddenly it all made sense. “I don’t suppose you rent those?” He lifted an eyebrow, and she shrugged. “Can’t blame a girl for asking.”
“Too true. Why not consider buying one for yourself?”
“I doubt I could afford the power to run it.”
“Too many financial commitments?” She shook her head. “Most Chosen lead very Spartan lifestyles. Those that I’ve sold these to often buy them because they have nothing better to do with their money.”
“Tell you what,” she said, suddenly getting an idea, “I like that red one over there. Let me use your phone, and I’ll let you run a contract to see how much it is.”
“You got yourself a deal!” he said and slapped the door frame with a meaty hand. He let her in and showed her to his desk. She picked up the phone, a fairly modern model, and started entering numbers. True to her luck, the exchange informed her that all circuits to Gulf were busy and it would be five minutes before she could connect. She chose to have it call her back when the circuit opened and hung up the phone. At the same time, the salesman finished keying data on his tablet, finalized it with a flamboyant finger stab, and handed it to her.
Minu scanned the bottom line, and her eyes bugged out. “Two thousand, six hundred and fifty-nine credits?” she said incredulously. “You have got to be kidding me! If that’s the down payment, how can I possibly make the installments? And what about power, insurance, and maintenance? I knew these things were expensive, but you must think I have gold nuggets in my pockets!”
“Young Chosen, you didn’t read the entire document!” he said in a strong, confident voice. When she started to complain further, he reached over and tapped the computer. With a sigh, she read the whole thing. Her breath caught in her throat. It wasn’t an installment contact; it was a sales contract. She looked at his ear-to-ear grin.
“Well I’ll be damned!”
* * * * *
Chapter 3
December 11th, 517 AE
Tranquility, Plateau Tribe
The aerocar Minu had bought was far superior to the cab she’d recently ridden in. The gravitic impellers sent a reassuring hum through her
whole body as she guided the new car out of the building’s oversized rear door and into the sky. In the rear monitor she saw the salesman waving as she flew away, the grin still etched on his face. She’d shocked herself by buying an aerocar. “I knew they’d come down in price, but I had no idea how much!” she’d said as she signed the contract and transferred most of her credit balance to the grinning salesman. The price was about twenty percent lower than a year earlier, he’d informed her, and they paid Chosen well. His assertion that lots of Chosen owned aerocars made sense. Most lived in a billet like hers at Steven’s Pass, ate Chosen-provided meals, and spent most of their time on duty. What else did they have to do with their money?
The aerocar she’d bought wasn’t the entry-level model. It possessed a few bells and whistles, including wrap-around video monitors, cruising airfoils to increase flight range, and deployable ground wheels to make maneuvering easier in areas not as advanced as Tranquility. Though aerocars were common, she’d have had to land and walk in a lot of the small towns if the car didn’t have wheels. He’d managed to get another hundred credits out of her by adding a premium entertainment system, additional computer capacity, and a second EPC bay, options which he was able to install in minutes. Her account now held a scant two hundred credits.
As she flew into the morning twilight, a big grin adorned her face. The powerful vehicle climbed into the sky with authority, and she laughed out loud. I own an aerocar! Flying point to point on Bellatrix wasn’t like it was on most Concordian worlds. There was very little traffic outside the major cities. They’d installed navigational beacons to aid older craft, but her modern car possessed inertial navigation, accurate to a half meter, which made the beacons redundant. All she had to do was state her destination, and her new aerocar took her there as though she was a passenger in a taxi. Her hands caressed the leather-wrapped control yoke, and she shook her head. She hadn’t bought a gravitic vehicle just to let a computer fly it! No way was she passing up the opportunity!