by Ed Hurst
The ranger station became a prison colony while the ranger operation was reformed. With the other changes, they would soon continue prisoner detention in the same vicinity as before, but farther from the crater. Several commanders from different clans were preparing to meet and reorganize in light of the recommendations George made about keeping families together, and creating ranger households. This had delayed them almost a month on the ranger station, overseeing the transition. The twins were made ranger captains, and sent home with their new wives to organize a ranger household. The Farrells were mostly hunters already.
Finally, a large number of former prisoners infected with the democracy heresies were offered a chance to volunteer for staffing the new Johnston Foreign Service Academy, which was next door to the religion school at Johnston Island. The classes in religion were free and mandatory as part of the deal for them.
George had advised Fortis to also make a copy from the bird and begin learning how to make use of the data exchange with his relatively new device. As he scanned the various notices, George’s face went white, then slightly red. A scowl slowly set in on his features. Then he groaned and turned away, dropping his device down to his side.
Fortis looked up. Seeing this display from George, he scanned quickly through the documents. Then he saw it. The sheikhs had long ago set up the provisions for activating the Special Magistrate office. They had attached to it a proviso for making the office permanent if the space port was ever opened again to trade. George had been ordered to retain the vestments and prepare to establish a space port on the pole. He was given the status of a sheikh, and his relatives were invited to join him in building several permanent structures for the port. As a quasi-clan, their colors would be the black and white he already wore. The other sheikhs had drawn up an advance agreement to support the space port through increased taxation from whatever trade concessions they had gained.
“Don’t like the pole much, George?”
“You know better than that. All I ever wanted was to go home and regain my duties as village elder.”
“We won’t be very far from each other. Just three weeks of sailing,” Fortis offered.
“That’s probably the only light in my personal darkness right now, my dear friend. Space Port Master! Sheikh!” He groaned more loudly and dropped his face into his free hand. “The space ships have already begun arriving. I have to leave right away to get it all under control.”
“And I have to finish the recruiting mission alone.” Fortis tried to look unhappy, but he was frankly glad George had been chosen.
George looked up and put on a fatherly face. “My friend, you need to seriously consider accepting the next plausible marriage offer. You will never make it without that support. Just trust the Lord and plunge in, because it will work out just the same as everything else. Given God’s sense of humor,” rolling his eyes, “you’ll end up with a huge family.”
They both laughed heartily.
Part 4 - End Game
Chapter 37: Hope and Frustration
In every generation there would always be one or two – someone who was born with exceptional intelligence, some unique talent, something which set them apart from the norm. In this generation, it was some peculiar genius no one expected, so it went almost unnoticed. That is, until he was approaching early adulthood.
His particular gift was a piercing insight, a powerful sense of what had to be. No one knew if they should call it intuition, because it seemed too fast even for that. Rather, his gift manifested itself as precocious maturity. It was as if he suffered very little of the wishful thinking, the fantasies and myths, common to children. Very early he could adapt quite effectively to changes in his environment. On the other hand, he certainly was capable of playfulness. And while he had no trouble giving himself to the games of children around him, they always treated him as a small adult.
His father had been a simple farmer who managed to win the hand of a very well educated wife. No great beauty was she, but devoted and well positioned to bestow upon her son a wealth of education. So while all children on Misty learned first at home, and were generally examined in their teens by the local village, town or district level for possible further education, this one confounded his examiners. Not just by his maturity, but it was his ability to converse and reveal a wide acquaintance with far more than many students who had already attended advanced academies away from home.
That very year, his father was killed by a predator in the field. The tragedy delayed any decisions on his further education. First, his mother ceded her husband’s property to his brothers. Then she took a job writing technical documentation for the local research plant for computer electronics. Her writing skill brought her notice, then advancement, finally being hired away to the sheik’s court, writing many of the reports and collating information for the messenger bird network.
Her son continued his education via exposure to this traffic. He was fully aware of the Special Magistrate’s decisions, and the establishment of the South Pole Space Port. Port Master Manley was quickly famous across Misty. So, too, was the fame of his friend, Professor Plimick. The boy had seen their visit the first time, just over a year ago. He had heard the Professor planned to return, and was hoping to meet him.
His reasons were many, but chief among them was his deep desire to see his mother married again. Technically, the duty fell to him, though traditionally he would have yielded to older male relatives. None of them believed him when he insisted his mother was the perfect wife for the professor, who was soon to begin training the first class of foreign service students on Johnston Island. So he was determined to present his case, should the famous professor return as he had promised. He had heard the man accepted none of the marriage offers on the rest of the planet, but he realized the news would be a few weeks behind, at least.
Then, to his deep chagrin, his mother was granted a long delayed vacation to see her relatives on the northern side of the island. It broke his heart, because he felt certain this might have been decided in part to prevent him being in the city when the professor was expected to return. He spent many days at the northern port, out at the end of the dock, watching the sea birds dive and splash. He prayed.
Chapter 38: Rushing to the End
Fortis had finished the recruiting tour alone. The Twins were deeply involved in ranger reforms; George was trying to restore some order to the already chaotic trade situation at the polar space port. The Captain seemed ready to get it over with, so Fortis simply made all the official visits, quickly whittled down the candidates, and traveled lightly and quickly between the clans. It was done early. Only the Captain’s reminder of his promise to revisit Clan Nadul, as a social obligation, made him agree to the delay.
Nor had he taken George’s advice to accept any of the marriage proposals. For reasons he could not have explained, none of them seemed right. Indeed, half of them were simply implausible, with girls far too young for his comfort. He was too wrapped up in planning his first classes, since George was no longer available to help address what really mattered. So he convinced the Captain to stop at the nearest point of contact with Nadul, which turned out to be the northern port. Since the capital city was pretty much the center of the island, it wouldn’t matter where they landed. He hoped he could quickly arrange a courser and would simply ride to the capital the same day they landed.
The Captain indulged him by running low on food and other consumables, with plans to re-supply at Nadul. Fortis was almost angry when the anchorage for the night was still a few kilometers off the island. The next morning, he bit his tongue to keep from having words with the crew over what he felt was the slow pace of preparations as dawn approached. This was Misty, after all, where the pace of life was glacial itself. So he stood on the stern deck with his mug of tea and tried to reason with the unreasonable urge within to rush, rush, rush. It was almost a force of will to pray. Finding himself alone, he decided to pray aloud.
At first
, his words were mere ritual. Then, something in his mind recalled a lesson from the religion professors at the academy: “When logic runs, the spirit crawls backward.” There was no native image of roaring storms on Misty, but the emotional turmoil he felt was completely out of character. He forced himself to stay facing the rear, not allowing himself to check on the progress of affairs with the crew. Not only was it still too dark to see the approach to Nadul Island, but he needed the self-discipline to help recover some sanity.
So it came as a surprise when the ship began to slow, and he heard the sound of the water brakes. He felt at least somewhat in control of himself when finally he saw the end of the dock creep around to the port side of the ship, now on his right. Picking up his travel kit, he was almost on the dock before he noticed the figure standing there with a hand extended to help him up.
“Good morning, noble Professor Plimick.” The young man bowed, touching one knee to the wood surface.
Something died inside Fortis, something which didn’t belong. Then, a bit of humor took its place. “So, at least we don’t have to worry about formal introductions.”
“Please, Sir. You cannot imagine what an unspeakable surprise this is to me. I am at a loss for words. The very face I have longed to see is now catching the first glow of dawn before me.” The young man still knelt with his head bowed.
Fortis smiled. “I wish I could speak so well when words failed me. Rise. Explain why it is so important you see me.”
The young man rose. A very young man indeed, it seemed, but Fortis wasn’t sure, as many Nadul folk appeared young to his eyes. “Please forgive me for daring to delay your business here. I have no standing to speak at all. Yet, if I do not speak, I should think it would bring great disaster to us all.”
Fortis recalled wistfully he had declined an armed escort from the Captain, and was about to reconsider. “Is there some danger?”
The young man pressed his palms together in front of him. “Not in the immediate sense of threat from dangerous men here, Sir. At least, none of which I am aware. I speak of a much larger sense of danger. Your mission on Misty is well known. You came to study, and stayed to be a part of us for a time. You are about to embark upon a time of preparing some of our people for meeting the wider galaxy of humanity.”
Fortis was surprised such a young fellow seemed to know so much about these things.
The boy continued. “More importantly, you must prepare their souls for the wrenching experience of facing a very fast-paced existence. But most importantly of all, they must be ready to answer why we are so very, very different from everyone else across the galaxy. Do we not hope they will carry with them the peace of Misty, the serenity of souls at rest in truth?”
Now Fortis carried an altogether new fear. George had mentioned the necessity of sending out emissaries to the stars to rekindle the ways of mysticism, that humanity would be lost without it. He had never been quite sure how that would shape his plans, neither how it would fit into a curriculum, but knew it had to be there somehow.
“Sir, I propose to bring alongside you such help as might lighten the load you bear.”
Fortis cocked his head to one side. “You’re doing a very good job of talking about it. Are you offering your services?”
The young man almost danced with glee. “Oh, Sir! Would that I could! It is not our way on Misty for me to leave my mother. She is a widow, and I the only child.”
Fortis still had not quite caught on. “So, would you suggest I hire her? What skills of hers might justify that?”
The boy grinned. “It is not at all boasting for me to tell you she is one of the best writers. You yourself surely read her work, as she is the primary scribe for the bird traffic here in Clan Nadul. She began as technology writer for the computer research labs here.”
If the boy was boasting, it would be easy enough to disprove, since Fortis still planned to see the Sheik. “That might prove useful. I could surely use a very skilled secretary.”
The boy smiled, as if at some secret joke. “You could not hire her from the Sheik. He would fight to keep her.”
Fortis still did not see it. “Then why are you telling me about her?”
The boy bowed again from the shoulders. “If I may be so bold, noble Sir – you could marry her.”
Chapter 39: Casting Seeds
The noise of the stevedores calling to the crew behind Fortis served notice it was time to seek breakfast. On this northern port of Nadul, there was a village directly behind the harbor facilities. “So, young man, where could a weary traveler find breakfast? There are other things we need to discuss before we talk about arranging marriages.”
“Come this way, Sir. We have a wonderful tea tent just ahead.” The young man grabbed Fortis’ bag and began walking up the long dock. On the way, he greeted the harbor crew with cheerful and respectful familiarity.
Fortis had learned if he pretended not to notice them as they passed, only those workers who really needed to address him would do so. While uncomfortable with it, this prevented the social obligations from interfering with their work. Besides, the young man set a vigorous pace.
But while winded when they arrived, Fortis felt the exercise did him good. This was a fairly large tea tent. The boy was waiting at the large opening, and Fortis spotted a couple of screened private tables. He headed directly for one of them. It was already half busy, and his presence drew notice. Playing at the regal VIP was difficult, but he understood the utter necessity or things would never get done. By the time he was comfortably seated, the young man had deposited his baggage in another chair and ran to get service. He returned a short time later with a mug of tea.
“Have you had breakfast? I want you to sit with me and tell me more about the spirit of Misty,” Fortis said, pointing to an empty seat.
The young man seemed almost embarrassed, even as he was delighted. “Thank you, Sir. I will join you.” With another quick bow, he took the seat.
Fortis then asked, “What shall I call you?”
“Sir, my name is Samir.”
As with every tea tent, servers brought whatever was cooked for that day. No sooner had the young man settled himself when two young ladies began bringing dishes of food, a pot with more tea, and a second cup. While Fortis had sampled the unique fair of Nadul on the first visit, this time it was quite different. Apparently the island was its own microcosm of cosmopolitan variety even within the cloistered world of Misty.
Though different, it was all to his liking, Fortis decided. After they had eaten a bit in silence, he asked, “My friend, Port Master Manley, once spoke of a mission to seed the human race once more with mysticism. What do you make of that?”
The young man set down his eating utensils before he spoke. “Sir, you know we live only that we may be salt and light.” He paused.
Fortis recognized the phrase from his religion lessons at Johnston.
He went on. “Those are symbols. The first indicates our presence makes humanity tolerable to God. Just a tiny pinch of salt makes most food better to the taste. There could never be many of us, but it really doesn’t take much. That we are light also continues the thought. We are the living revelation of God’s message to humanity. If we do not bring that message, they will not know – cannot know – what God demands for the lower level, much less the higher level.”
Fortis recognized the notion, but had not heard it put quite like that. “The earthly covenant points the way to the heavenly. How would trade embassies reach enough of the populations where they go?”
“In due time, the people would come to them.” Samir seemed so utterly certain. Was it blind faith?
“What would draw them? Why would they seek trade offices from some obscure planet?”
“Sir, the galaxy has long been without peace, and without a peaceful people. You know we had no intention of restricting ourselves to a single monopoly trading partner this time. Rather, Port Master Manley is the focal point of monopoly on our behalf. He w
ill wrest a far greater rate of exchange with the massively wealthy corporate banking and arms dealers who always survive wars. They will be seeking to expend their profits quickly on valuable luxury goods. Ours remain unique, because no one else has been forced to do so much with natural materials as we.”
Fortis noted Samir was building up to something. Apparently the young man had discussed this with others, and Fortis guessed he had not been taken seriously.
Gesturing gently with his hands, “Sir, there will be many in the entourage of wealthy traders who are trend setters, and a few will genuinely fall in love with what we have here. A great many others will indulge it as a fad. Then, it will cascade down to the masses as fashion. In no time, having among your acquaintances a citizen of Misty will be like dropping the names of the most elite in the galaxy.”
Fortis realized this was entirely plausible. “So out of the vast ocean of faddists, we can expect to reap a small growth of genuine mystics. Then what? The fad will fade all too soon.”
A strange look of sadness mixed with joy crossed Samir’s face. “The seed will not sprout fully until it first dies. They will come and destroy Misty.”
Fortis thought on this for a moment. “Figurative or literal destruction? They will most certainly try to gain control and corrupt the culture and government here. I suspect they would fail, at least for quite some time.”
Samir added, “What they cannot own, they destroy, often literally. Mankind is desperately wicked, needing only power and wealth to throw off caution. I fear the planet will be destroyed, though I cannot imagine how.”
Something caused Fortis to remember the crater, but since he could not logically connect it to their conversation, he dismissed the image from his mind. He signaled to the man behind the counter, who came over and bowed from the shoulders. By now, Fortis understood how to display his authorization from the Council, as the proprietor simply noted the reference to the letter as credit for taxes and so forth. Before Fortis could stand, Samir was up and holding his baggage.