by Ed Hurst
“It’s must a matter of physics. Something small and fast, or really big at just about any speed, and it will work here. We’ve had people in the past build catapults, didn’t we?”
Fortis froze. The image of the crater came to his mind again.
Chapter 44: Arrival
Urgent message to Port Master Manley, from Professor Plimick.
Death and destruction are very near. There is a way to attack Misty, and there is a motive. We need to discuss possible evacuation for those so inclined.
It had been some five years since Samir had last traveled. That had been the start of his new life as the adopted son of Fortis. Now his heart was sad, as he bore a dark mission. While it held the promise of yet another new life, it meant leaving the magnificent cocoon that was Misty, and facing danger no one could imagine.
He was very relieved when Master Manley himself met his ship at the dock on Pole Island. The parallels were too fitting. He dropped to one knee, but was immediately lifted by a George still vigorous, and hugged warmly. “So, I finally get to meet the son of Fortis! Welcome, Samir.”
“Forgive me, Sir, but I cannot let this wait another moment.” He produced his pocket computer, displaying the summary of the documents and notes from his father.
George cradled in his hands and read as he led the way toward the Space Port facilities. Samir tried not to notice the armed guards and their Gauss rifles.
Once they reached his office, George had just finished the summary. Looking up, he said, “This fascist cult planet is practically next door. Obviously they have managed to infiltrate their agents into the seekers compound. I wondered why there was a recent revival of interest, when the initial buzz had finally died away. That would explain the notice which arrived today.”
High level trade documents and treaties were usually burned into a type of plastic sheet which, once finalized, could not be altered without obvious signs of tampering. This one demanded Misty recant of the mystical elements, and stick to the law portions of their religion. It came from the star system which claimed sovereignty over the local sector of the galaxy. Naturally, that sector held mostly empty star systems, a field of gas and dust clouds, and two inhabited planets: theirs and Misty.
No one was disputing these claims, for obvious reasons. The fascists had made enough deals with enough bankers and such to ensure nary a peep. Now that Misty’s luxury goods were no longer a novelty, and efforts to duplicate proved fruitless, and the supply was pretty much permanently limited, the traders had moved on to other growing markets. This other planet had managed to negotiate serving as proxies for just about every trade partner, and those would come into force within a year.
Naturally, Misty would submit to changes in trade, but not the other matters. Someone would eventually come back for an answer, and George had no intention of hiding anything. Nor did he need to seek permission from the Council, which had already agreed on this long ago.
Clearly, the question was not whether they would be attacked, but when. Then, it was a matter how quickly the attack would come, and whether the fascists could muster the resources to finish them off. Given the situation, George agreed with Fortis it would probably be quick and total, once it began.
“Does your father plan to evacuate, Samir?”
“For obvious reasons, he is willing to stay. So it is with my mother and me.” Samir’s eyes were shining.
“I advise you to all to go, you and anyone else who feels called to it. There will be plenty of death; Misty will soon be no more. A general evacuation is simply not possible. Frankly, the fascists will do all they can to prevent it many of us escaping.”
George turned and faced out the window. From time to time, ships would simply appear or disappear. Their numbers were smaller these days, but their size remained substantial. He was owed some favors and it was time to call them in, but time was short.
“I’m going to make sure the whole planet knows what is coming. We don’t have secrets here on Misty. Time and resources alone will decide who leaves, once people have searched their own hearts.” George was reaching for a message composer.
“Is it not odd, those most likely to stay are the ones we would like to go?” Samir smiled gently.
“You’ll be staying with me until your parents arrive, I’m sure. Would you like the meet some of the seekers? I’m sure they would benefit from talking with you!” George ordered an attendant to escort Samir to the compound.
It took Fortis a month to close down the academy. He sailed with the last group of graduates. Upon arriving at Pole Island, he was surprised at how few citizens of Misty were evacuating. George had managed to find berths and even a few jobs for some of the evacuees with the shipping lines. The graduates had their assignments, and Fortis had his old position still open and reaffirmed each year so far. George had no plans to go.
There were no grand speeches, no rituals, just a quiet activity of moving those who wanted to leave. People went in groups or individually to make the best of whatever future they found scattered across the galaxy. No official census, but lists of accumulated contacts were sent back by ship. Once out of the cloudy envelope, communications were almost always instantaneous across the far reaches of human space. Misty was now out there, as well as here.
Just a few weeks later, Fortis was finally settling into what was now an utterly alien world, the place whence he came to Misty. He could only imagine what it was like for Kalila. Samir had always been in his own world, one larger than everyone else’s version. It was both with amusement and sympathetic sorrow he regarded his adopted son’s new nickname: Misty Messiah.
While it was obvious Samir hated the nickname, he nonetheless took full advantage of it. In no time he buried himself in a broad array of cultural, artistic and academic partnerships, spreading the message of Misty. One of the Foreign Service students wrote back, offering the estimate Samir’s fingers touched more places than all the other survivors of Misty together. Fortis knew there would be no way any human could prove nor disprove it.
It was all he could do, paying attention to his own imperatives. True to his promise to every student, his first mission in his old job was ambassador for Misty. It was Fortis himself who wrote the official epitaph for his Anthropology Department texts.
Excerpt from the entry on “Dalorius Four (Misty).”
“When the fascist government of [...] learned the inhabitants were unwilling to conform, they wasted no time in using the only weapon of attack which would work. Large mining ships with tractor fields towed random chunks of space debris into the gravity well of Dalorius, since there were no asteroids within that star system. It wasn’t too complicated to calculate the point of entry which would drop these frozen stones onto the planet’s surface. After some 53 hours of continuous bombardment, the planet broke apart. Today, Dalorius star system has an asteroid belt in place of the fourth planet.
But Misty cannot die. Wherever anyone reaches out to the Creator, transcending what mere man can do, think or understand, and embrace the eternal truth for which there are no words, Misty is there.
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