by Ed Hurst
With the first spooler almost off planet, he began reliving his adventures and recording them on his secondary spool.
He found himself praying again.
Chapter 21: Fresh Start
He was surprised when George left the tent standing, but realized someone could come back for it after it had served as a decoy. They even left the packs, carrying only water and weapons. Remaining in close formation, they dodged through the trees, moving as quickly as they could without noise. Predators were quite unlikely this close to the city, but not impossible.
Still, it took quite a while to clear the forest. The trees gave way slowly to scrub, then tall grass as the slope rose ever so gently. George took the lead. It was nearly dawn when they reached a fenced animal yard. A few diminutive herd animals greeted them quietly near the fence, but not touching it. George said they called these things “goats” despite their stubby legs, rather like the coursers. They did have wicked twin horns, and Fortis wondered if they really needed the fence for protection.
George left him there to wonder about it, with the silent twins keeping watch. It was only a few minutes later he saw a slender figure darting across the crest of the hill. A bit later, he heard voices in jovial chatter, this time mostly Galactic. Around the corner of the fence came George with a fellow wearing a broad brimmed hat, an equally broad smile, and mostly green clothing. The usual bits of yellow and purple were there, of course.
George introduced Fortis, but ignored the twins. The man bowed low, calling himself simply Tom, making the usual offers. Fortis realized how very tired he was, and said so. “Now that you mention it, Tom, do you have a spare space beneath one of your awnings for a tired visitor from across the galaxy? I could use a nap myself.”
Turning to the twins, George said, “Boys, would you rather watch the fun?” They smilingly nodded. “Try the wind tower about a half-kilometer that way,” he pointed over the rolling grassy hills, splitting the difference between the direction they had come and where the girl had gone. They strode off, grinning.
Fortis remembered Tom and George continuing to chatter as they led toward the large tent, but little else. Once he dropped into the soft grassy pile under an awning, he was gone.
It was all too soon when he had to come back. There was a fresh lunch on a small folding table near him. He struggled to consciousness and didn’t even have to think about being hungry. The brightness of the sky told him it must be mid-day. George and Tom were laughing, and Fortis assumed it meant good news. Swallowing some cold fruity liquid from a cup standing near the food, he waited for a break in the conversation. “How many were arrested?”
George guffawed, “The girl decided to stay and see the fireworks. Within just an hour, the sheikh’s bodyguard came back with a dozen. They added one more when someone on the chamberlain’s staff made too much of a fuss. They’ll sort it out eventually.” Then he got more serious. “Sadly, none of them match the description or our fake hunter.”
“Too smart to be caught?”
“Likely. Which means we have to promote him in our minds to ranger captain. And which would explain his slip, since that’s roughly equivalent to my rank, socially. It’s worth dispatching a few message birds to other parts of the island. Oh, how I wish I had had an excuse to capture his image.”
Fortis rather liked the rougher, darker bread, and guessed the farmer grew it himself. Fields nearby looked to him like grain stubble. It reminded him of George’s description of each city being confined to the size and population the land around it could carry. The mainstay of food, drink and waste removal had to be within a day’s walk. “Do you mean something like the proverbial carrier pigeons?”
George leaned back on a packed lump of dried grass. “A mechanical version of them, one of the results of our kite technology. Not quite so large as the bird you saw on your screen from space, but the same idea, minus the radio. Computer navigation, tilting the wings to take advantage of the wind, carrying standard memory chips. It’s our primary means of communication here on Misty.”
George suddenly jumped to his feet and walked away. Fortis followed him with his eyes and caught a glimpse of the bright headbands worn by the twins. Then he saw they were lugging all the baggage, plus the cart, all smartly repacked. Impressive service, indeed! When they stopped near Tom and Fortis, George asked, “Ready to go? We have to go meet the sheikh.”
Fortis stood, and then bowed in thanks to Tom. The farmer flushed red and got to his feet, bowing in return and to George. There was some cryptic exchange about meeting in the light before George led the way on a path running over the crest of the nearest hill. Not much later, they came within sight of a tall structure of wood, with multiple windmills spinning next to a cluster of tents. Fortis could imagine the twins climbing this thing and sitting near the top. Apparently it offered good line of sight to where the old road they used came out of the forest.
George retold the story. “The local conspirators apparently met before dawn and broke into teams to search. When one bunch found the tent, they came back out and signaled with a lamp to whoever was directing the search. It took awhile to gather their whole force to attempt a capture. By the time they moved, it was daylight. The Bodyguard was alerted and simply went in after them.”
Fortis smiled tiredly. “So your skepticism about their ability to organize a response to surprises proved accurate. I’ll bet you knew the ranger would be able to follow us out of the village, too.”
“That merely confirmed the level of his skills. Had we lost him, it would have been a wholly different situation. This confirms the two clans are in league with rogues, using them as proxies. We know what sorts of things they might be able and willing to do in the future. I’m glad you felt like playing along.”
Fortis thought for a second. “Your faith in God is infectious, and your faith in me was a further encouragement. So what does it mean to meet the sheik? What do you suppose comes next?”
George hooked a thumb toward the twins walking easily behind them. “First order of business is to see these two are properly rewarded. Perhaps full hunting licenses, fancier weapons they could never afford, other marks of favor. Certainly food for their return trip. Lord willing, we’ll see them again, and will surely need their help.”
“Good men, indeed,” Fortis agreed. “Tell me why you know Johnston is not part of the plot.”
George shook his head, laughing. “Sharp, my friend. First, they are an obvious target of suspicion, and someone has already tried to implicate them falsely. So the sheikh has been fastidiously transparent. Further, he has already promised severe and quick action against anyone found with sufficient evidence of involvement in the cabal. Those arrested today will be lucky to survive the night.”
Fortis’ eyes widened in surprise.
George went on. “Second, he’s a true mystic. We talk of sending missionaries, but the ostensible structure will be a foreign service academy. Where do you suppose it makes the most sense to build one?”
“Oh, I don’t know. How about Johnston Island?” Fortis tried out some sarcasm.
With even broader and more dramatic sarcasm, George responded. “Why, what a fine idea! But wait... we need someone to teach the fine cloistered Misty folks how to mingle as ambassadors with other cultures. Hmmm. I wonder if we know anyone familiar with the vast array of different cultures across the galaxy.”
Fortis turned bright red. “That would be me.”
“Glad you offered, Professor Plimick! You’ll make a great university founder.”
A few minutes later, as they began to see the tops of a huge number of tents over the tall grass, Fortis asked, “I suppose I may not see the rest of Misty, after all.”
George laughed heartily. “Don’t be silly! We will have to mount a very strong recruiting campaign. It means visiting every clan.” George looked about furtively, then with a dramatic stage whisper, “And maybe we can help discover who is doing all this sneaky stuff.”
Fort
is took out his spooler and recorded some narrative.
Chapter 22: Honor and Secrets
Fortis was completely surprised by the odd mixture of formal and casual elements to their reception. Even as they began approaching the outermost cluster of tents, heavily armed men, all quite large and imposing, greeted them. Without exchanging any words, the troops simply bowed, then fell in as escorts. Glancing back, Fortis saw the bemused look on the twins’ faces. It took quite a while to actually reach the sheik’s court. The tent was huge, and people were busy all around it. As they neared the door, the soldiers led them under an ornate awning, mostly in clan colors.
Some fellow, whose colorful robes were near ankle length, and a staff of neatly attired servants, met them there. They were all quickly relieved of their burdens, which were gathered and placed at the feet of four alert soldiers who stepped forward for the purpose of solemn guardianship. In very short order, they were also relieved of their travel robes and given very nice replacements, also nearly reaching the ground. These were joined in the front by some sort of catchments, with the neck open to expose what they wore beneath. The twins kept their head wraps.
The servants also wiped their faces and hands with warm damp cloths, brushed off their boots, and then waved some sort of censor around them. The aromatic smoke clung to them. Then the man in charge led them to the main entrance on one end of the tent. Two more burly guards pulled back the curtains. They were met by an even more richly dressed man wearing an oddly shaped hat. Fortis would have called it huge floppy beret, hanging off the left side. This man smiled wordlessly, brought George forward, placed Fortis directly behind him, and the twins abreast at the rear, some three paces back. He then turned, positioned himself alongside to their left, and marched them all down the length of the wide open space. Various functionaries were scattered around the sandy floor.
There was a huge carpet covering the sand at the end of this huge area. As they drew closer to it, Fortis realized the focus of attention was on the right hand side ahead of them. The man with the funny hat led them to the edge of the carpet, and then ducked to one side. With a fluid sweep of the hand, he motioned them to continue. The pattern on the carpet indicated something to George who walked to it, turned quickly and bowed to the waist. Fortis slowed, confused, but George quickly reached out his hand to catch Fortis by the shoulder and turn him to face the sheikh, whose throne was in a chamber off to the side, curtains drawn back.
He copied George’s bow, and heard himself introduced formally once again. He rose to see a man about George’s age sitting on a fancy folding chair. He wore a very fine, smooth purple cap with a thin, bright yellow border on it. His beard was oiled, and his robe only slightly fancier than the fellow who led them inside, but it had a train on it, which was pulled to one side.
The simplicity of his greeting is what surprised Fortis. In a rather mild voice he said, “Welcome Fortis. George, it’s so good to see you again. I owe you both a debt of gratitude for all you’ve done.”
George took this as his signal. The twins were still standing on the edge of the carpet. George gestured them forward. They strode forward abreast, turned in unison directly to Fortis’ left, turned and dropped to one knee in unison without a word. George spoke, “My Lord, without these men, we would not stand before you now: Stanley and Stephen, sons of Charles Farrell. They were our escorts the entire way, and acquitted themselves with honor.”
The sheik smiled. “They shall be honored, indeed. Arise, lads.”
The twins stood smartly.
“I welcome you this day to the ranks of Master Hunters of the Clan.” Their eyes widened in surprise. “Our armory is open to you. Do not leave it empty handed. Let it be published the household of Farrell is tax free in Clan Johnston. Go now and change your attire to that of freemen. We are blessed to see you and expect that pleasure again soon.”
They smartly dropped to their knees again, then rose and marched out. On cue, several members of the court applauded, even cheering a bit. George took the opportunity to lean over and remark, “Master Hunter is a special privilege on top of everything else, with numerous benefits. That and freeman status makes them eligible to carry swords.”
Once they were off the carpet, all eyes turned back to the sheikh. He clapped his hands once, and everyone relaxed. It was as if ceremony was turned off instantly. Almost everyone receded respectfully from the throne. George pulled Fortis forward as the sheikh rose, shrugged off the encumbering robe, and spoke first. “George, it is good to see you are safe.” They embraced warmly, and then the Sheik went on, “So we didn’t catch the ranger. I suppose we didn’t really expect it. But if those boys detected his movements, they are his equal, if only lacking some experience. We need them in the proper frame of mind to carry the burdens they’ll soon face.”
His eyes drifted downward a moment as he considered something. Turning to face Fortis, “So, in two weeks your superiors will know about us. The sooner the better. Did George mention our little project for future trade relations?”
Fortis decided he could dare a little humor. “George lays a better trap than any of his enemies.”
George guffawed, and the sheikh bent just a little in his own laughter. When he had recovered, “I’m glad he caught you.” Turning to George, “You didn’t tell me he was so sharp minded.”
“He surprises me often, Sir.”
At that moment, they were interrupted by one of the many aides in the Sheik’s Court. He leaned very close to the sheikh. “My Lord, we shall have serious trouble creating a double for this one,” politely indicating Fortis.
Without glancing at the aide, the sheikh said quietly. “Do what you can.” Fortis was struggling to guess what a double would be for, but was not prepared for what came next. The sheikh drew them physically close.
“Fortis, we are going to dispatch someone looking like you and George northward on a fast ship. They will be leaving within the hour. I’m afraid we will have to ask you to disappear again. My staff will outfit you two as servants before you leave, and you’ll need to be sure to wear that cowl again.” He sighed deeply, but then smiled. “The things we have to do to save the human race.” Stepping back, he said in a louder voice. “I sincerely hope things slow down in a week or two; we never get to talk, George.”
With that, the sheikh walked away and disappeared in a sea of purple-and-yellow clad servants. The aide who had interrupted earlier still stood by, and George turned to him. “Okay, take us away.”
Chapter 23: Night Visit
Darkness came more slowly in the city of tents, because it was higher ground and no trees blocked the sky. Fortis and George had slipped into the academy, one of two permanent structures in the area. The ancient stone building was simple, though quite large. They had been placed in a room on the third floor, and Fortis sat on the tiny balcony. The wind was cool, but the night dampness had not yet begun. His mind swam in that wide ocean again.
Some part of him remembered to absorb his environment. The wind across the low peaked roof of slate made odd noises. He could have sworn he heard for a moment something like the sound he recalled the sails making during their long voyage from the pole. Was that movement on the roof?
Too slowly he turned to look, and faced the glint of a Gauss weapon in the hands of a shadow on the roof above him. Fortis froze.
The shadow spoke in a stage whisper. “Good idea. I have no intention of harming you, so not moving will keep me from having to think about it. Step over here to the railing.”
Fortis moved slowly to the place where the roof met the framework of the balcony. The shadow climbed down and sat on the railing next to him. Somehow, the Gauss weapon never strayed from pointing at him. He was now just a few feet from the barrel.
The shadow removed his cowl. Fortis was hardly surprised to see the fake hunter from the village. “Your hunters just about finished me back there in the woods. I wish I could recruit them, but I don’t have time for such things.” He seeme
d quite relaxed, almost friendly. “They deserved their awards. And you aren’t such a slouch yourself. Past your prime and you still manage to keep up with everyone else, load and all. I’m impressed.”
Fortis was not sure how genuine such praise could be. But the weapon was relaxed, and the man leaned near him, as if he feared nothing at all.
“Again, this has nothing to do with hurting you, or anyone else. I decided to take a chance and just talk. Frankly, if you wanted to run back inside, I would not stop you. What I hope for is just your ears for a few minutes. I want you to hear an honest account of the other side.”
Fortis sighed, and then added quietly, “I’m listening.”
“Good. I knew you were too intelligent to swallow everything you hear without a few questions. This isn’t some evil cabal plotting to take over Misty. We just want a chance to be heard, and so far, no one will listen. We are shot on sight, mostly.”
“So I’ve heard,” Fortis agreed.
“That part was true enough. All we really want is for someone to consider the safety of our paradise here. We have no standing army, and the few troops we have are tied down. Most of the rangers are tied up chasing punks or preventing prisoners escaping the northern islands.”
Fortis bit his tongue to keep from asking about that.
The man continued. “It’s gotten pretty tough, lately. Quite a few are getting much closer to escaping. My associates are catching more and more of them trying to slip across the open water to the deserts. Twice in the past year, they chased little groups across the plateaus, even though letting them go would have left them to die in the desert. No man on this planet can carry enough water to make it.
“So what’s going to happen if the outsiders send their troops? You know better than I do. Rangers are stretched too thin. Don’t you think we need some effective defense to keep ourselves safe? If nothing else, let them see a deterrent force at the pole. All we are asking is that the first shipments include some more weapons, better stuff that works here, like the old chemical explosive based rifles. They make these” – holding up the short Gauss rifle – “look like toys. We know they can be made, and we are sure they’ll work here. With no energy weapons working here, we would always have the upper hand.”