
-----------------------------------Dreamerby Dave Gordon-----------------------------------Science Fiction/Fantasy
www.mysticmoonpress.com
Copyright ©
NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.
CONTENTS
Dreamer
By: Dave Gordon
ISBN---978-0-9801777-3-2
All rights reserved
Copyright © May. 2008, Dave Gordon
Cover Art copyright © May. 2008, Stella Price
Mystic Moon Press, LLC
Santa Fe, NM 87507
www.mysticmoonpress.com
No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical means, including but not limited to printing, file sharing, and email, without prior written permission from Mystic Moon Press, LLC
DREAMER
Dave Gordon
Log Entry: It's empty. No, not empty. If you had a box and there isn't anything in it, it is empty. Space is not empty, it is nothing. There is no box. And, there is a lot of it. The idea there is a lot of nothing is funny, but there it is, nothing in every direction forever and ever.
They say you have to be a special type to do this. I still don't know what that means. We're all the same type. Maybe it takes a special type to learn Japanese and Latin, or it takes a special type to read and memorize the dictionary. I did those things a few months ago. It takes a really bored type to do that. There is not a lot else to do.
Log Entry: If you were going incredibly fast, but there was no way to tell, it would seem like you were standing still. That is how I feel. I feel like I am floating in the middle of nowhere going no place. All the instruments say I am going thousands of miles per hour, but I do not believe them. I am at a dead stop in nothing space.
All the instruments are broken, they never change. They have not changed for months. If you believed the instruments, you would think I am moving very fast and I am definitely not. I do not look at them much anyway. I have a checklist somewhere. I'm supposed to do a bunch of stuff every day. Screw it.
Log Entry: I think I'm supposed to be asleep. I was asleep for a long time ... I think, but I got woke up to fix something. There was an alarm and it woke me up. My head hurt because I had been asleep a long time. I was running back and forth in a panic trying to figure out what happened. It was just a stupid little puncture in the hull. It took all of two hours to fix. But the sleep unit was off-line after that. That is really bad because this could be a twenty-year mission and maybe I was supposed to sleep for nineteen of them.
I spent a long time trying to figure out how the sleep unit, the computer, and the instruments all got broken. I sent messages to Earth, but never got an answer. Who knows how far from Earth I am? It might take years for the message to get there and back. Frankly, I can't really remember very well what the whole thing was about. The mission, that is. I finally just ran out of concern for it all. I don't care anymore.
Log Entry: I'm not sure how long I've been awake. There is a calendar on the wall with seven months crossed off one day at a time. I don't know when I quit doing that. A year, maybe. Two at the most. I don't know. I'm pretty sure I should have gotten to where ever I was going by now. I also don't know how long the meal generator is designed to last. I don't think they planned on serving three meals a day for years.
Log Entry: There are many, many people that wanted to be a Pioneer. At least, there was when I left. I'm not sure how long ago that was. I was asleep. People took all kinds of tests and went through a bunch of interviews. I did well on them. All I ever wanted to be was a Pioneer. I studied day and night from the time I started school until the day they pinned the star on my chest.
I can't remember why at this point. That's probably due to my diet. I started messing around with the different systems on board just out of boredom. I've got the meal generator doing things it was never meant to do. The meal generator is able to formulate medications and with a little tinkering I have been able to cook up some pretty respectable intoxicants. These meal generator modifications are going to be greatly appreciated if I ever see anybody again.
Log Entry: There was only one paper manual on this ship. It was the manual on how to repair the computer if it fails. I took out the least-important section and cut it up to make playing cards. I then took out the next section of least importance and cut it up into little pieces suitable for constructing a paper city. Well, the city has grown. I sure hope the computer doesn't go down.
There are miles and miles of wire and cable on this ship. This thing is really huge considering it carries only one person and a few exploration vehicles. I was able to scavenge enough cable to construct a hammock. I got tired of the sleep unit, it's more like a very comfortable coffin than a bed. I don't sleep much anyway. There was enough spare cable to make a swing in the main bay. I had to jettison the rover to make room. I stripped it down to the bare bones before I blew it out. I'm pretty sure the rover's power source isn't leaking radiation.
There is a big view port in the control room. It is placed right in front of the operator seat. It is the most depressing thing I have ever seen. It looks out upon a view of perfect black. A few pinpricks of light dot the scene. It never changes. I try not to go in there any more. I go look at the broken instruments every now and then to see if they have changed. They never do.
I think that means I am insane because I keep doing the same thing over and over expecting to get a different result. I don't think I would know if I were insane. I mean, if I knew I was acting irrationally, that would be a rational realization. How can you rationally determine you are being irrational? So, I keep looking for clues that I may be going crazy and never finding them. I think that means I am insane.
Log Entry: A stack of gas canisters fell over. It scared the living hell out of me. I have absolutely no clue as to why they fell. I had taken the restraint clamps off a long time ago to make zero-g ball. Sometimes I turn off the gravity and float around in a metal ball. It's kind of fun to just bounce off things like a human balloon. I piled the canisters in the back. I'm still trying to think of something useful to do with all the gas. It is supposed to be used for mineral testing, but as there is a lack of minerals on board, I believe I will use it in some other way.
Log Entry: The meal generator stopped producing alkaloids today. That severely limits the intoxicants I can make. I need to get more creative in producing them. The generator isn't made to produce huge quantities of chemicals but it will produce grain, yeast, sugar, and water. It's time to build a still. Maybe I can use the power pack from the rover to produce heat for the distillation process.
Log Entry: Some time ago I figured out that the sleep unit induces sleep by stimulating the brain in certain ways. Even though the hibernation function is off-line, the basic unit still works. You would not believe how versatile that thing is. I don't know why they built it the way they did, but it will selectively stimulate any number of areas in the brain. I have been spending extended periods in the sleep unit and I am definitely not sleeping. If I ever see anyone again, they are going to love these sleep unit modifications.
Log Entry: It has probably been ten months since I started this journal, if that is what you want to call it. It has been several weeks since I last made an entry. I started marking time again because I thought it was somehow meaningful. I've been spending a lot of time in the sleep unit so I'm not sure how long it has actually been. This place is a mess. I had to stop jettisoning trash because the oxygen generator couldn't keep up. That is a pretty important piece of equipment, I love it. The latrine, which is an oxygen-based decomposition system, is still thankfully keeping up.
Log Entry: The instruments still haven't changed, the view hasn't changed, nothing has changed. I'm still floating in a sea of perfect nothingness.
One good thing, though. My body functions are somehow suspended when I am in the sleep unit. I guess that is part of the sleep function. I am no hungrier when I come out then when I went in. Sometimes I am in there for days and my beard doesn't grow. The ship is equipped with a rudimentary entertainment system. Nothing too fancy, a simple holovision unit with a hundred titles or so. I watched them all the first couple of years after I woke up. They are all pretty trite and cliché. But, and here is the crazy thing, I fed the output of the holovision unit into the neural interface of the sleep unit and after about six months of work, I got the images and sound through. It's like living through the movie. Now I'm wondering if I can affect the movies by sending my neural output back to the system. That would be crazy.
Log Entry: It's been a very long time since I've recorded anything in this journal. Keeping the calendar turned out to be unmanageable. I have no way of measuring how much time I spend in the sleep unit. I have no idea how much time I spend in there. The calendar says forty-seven months, but I think it's been a lot longer than that.
My modifications to the sleep unit are complete. I can now construct, experience, and record fantasies of my own creation. I began by dissecting the movies on hand and mixing parts together. I started changing those parts so they fit together better. I dispensed with the movies altogether after that and began constructing my own elaborate worlds. I can be anything, do anything. Why come out?
Sometimes, like now for instance, I will come out and look around just to make sure things are still working right. The instruments might not actually be broken, they have changed a little since the last time I looked. There are more dots of light in the view port. Weird.
Log Entry: There is nothing in the universe more appealing to male humans than the sight of an Aolian woman. Their form is exquisite, every one is the perfect ideal woman incarnate. Their beautiful blue skin glistens and changes hue in subtle ways. Slanted eyes flirt and beckon. They are open and inviting in every way. There is something about human men that entices them. Thankfully, their reproductive methods are similar enough to be compatible with humans, but in a uniquely sensuous way.
I turn from my labors over my deficient thrusters to be graced by a vision of desire. I am stunned and speechless. She leads me to her den. The walls are made of native soil that has been somehow polished. The smell is earthy and rich. Warm yellow light emanates from fluorescent crystals in the ceiling. We go to her bed in the rear of the cave. Her bed is made of thick soft moss and is covered with blankets woven of lavender Aolian hair.
She wraps her long, spidery fingers around my head and pulls my face to hers. Her skin feels like satin. The fine scales covering her body are smooth and cool. The erotic look of her light blue face with its finely-featured details and pouty lips are intoxicating. I give myself up to her.
But I am not in the sleep unit. I think the sleep unit modifications have altered my brain functions. I am beginning to experience fantasies while outside the sleep unit. It is becoming increasingly difficult to function in the real world. I have made my observations, checked the life support systems, caressed the Aolian woman, and now I'm going back to the sleep unit. I may just stay, why come out?
Log Entry: The instruments have changed again and the view is definitely different. I wonder how long I was in the sleep unit? I am going to stay out of that thing for a while. The still blew up a long time ago while I was in the sleep unit. It must have made a hell of a noise. I didn't even hear it. I think I can use the food unit to produce alcohol. I need to transfer the alcohol definitions from the medical library to the food library, shouldn't be that hard.
I checked the holographic storage system a while ago. There were billions of petabytes of recordings. That had to have taken years to accumulate. All that storage was supposed to be for exploration data but now it's a collection of material not suitable for viewing by children.
Log Entry: Every time I exit the sleep unit I am horrified by the chaotic, filthy mess the ship has become. Years of living in a confined space have taken a serious toll on the once well-ordered ship. I find the desolation to be intolerable. The beautiful alternate reality I have constructed in the sleep unit is much better than the bleak reality out here. I can no longer tolerate life outside the sleep unit. This will be my final entry.
If you have never been to the falls of Athalen, you are missing one of the most beautiful sights in West Remair. Azure water cascades over pristine white marble and falls three-hundred feet to the Crystal Lake below. Fantastic formations of white crystal cover the rocks under the surface. There is nothing else like it.
"Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?" I ask the elf standing next to me. She is taller than I am, appears to be young, and is as beautiful as the falls. It is worth noting that elves appearing to be young are usually several thousand years old.
"I have seen it before," she says.
"But it is still beautiful," I point out.
The elf appears passionless. She says, "I have seen it a hundred times."
"You may have seen it before, but it is still beautiful none the less," I say. Trying to talk to her is frustrating. It doesn't help that in the last several thousand years she has heard every thing I could possibly say.
"It was more beautiful seven-hundred years ago," she says.
I turn from the landscape of consummate beauty shaking my head at the elf's comment. I don't know why she travels with me, she never seems happy with anything. Still, she is a wonderful traveling companion. She never misses whatever she is aiming at. We are never hungry. She will find berries and unearth truffles if we stop to rest. She knows of at least three uses for every single plant in Remair. She can magically appear and disappear at will, although she says there is no such thing as magic.
I met her last winter as I crossed the Sawd plain. I was engaged in a diplomatic mission that took me from one end of the country to the other in a tedious march. I was walking through low scrub carrying my bow at ready in case any game appeared. A rabbit bolted from just in front of my foot. I raised my bow and let it fly knowing I would not hit it. A fleeing rabbit is very safe considering my archery skills. No sooner had my arrow missed than another arrow whizzed by my ear and hit the rabbit in the eye. I spun to see who had loosed the arrow and there was no one there. I turned to the rabbit and there stood a vision of complete and indescribable beauty.
She said, "You missed. I thought perhaps I would aid you."
I was shocked into silence. She was obviously an elf. The slightly pointed ears and slanted eyes gave her away. Though elves are not often seen, stories and legends abound. I did not think I would ever actually meet one. "Thank you. That's very kind of you," I said.
She plucked her arrow out of the rabbit and wiped off the point in the grass. "Perhaps we might share a meal?" she said.
"That would be very nice, thank you," I said, though truthfully I was a little perplexed. Elves were not known to be gregarious by nature. "I will skin the rabbit and be right back."
She said, "I will build a fire."
When I returned there was a perfect cooking fire complete with spit in an artfully constructed fire ring. "Wow," I said in amazement.
"I have had a lot of practice," she replied.
We chatted as we ate. I later came to realize that casual speech was not typical for her. She sat on the ground with her legs crossed. She was dressed in the elf uniform. I say this because every elf we have encountered is dressed in the same manner. She wore brown leather shoes with pointed toes, green leggings, a tan tunic, a green felt vest, and a pointed hat. I once asked her why all elves dressed the same. She said not all elves dressed the same. After a long and circuitous discussion, a hallmark of our conversations, I learned that elves dress the same because it is more efficient. There is a single group of elves who produce clothing to clothe the entire race. Elf royalty wear different clothes and elves in professions such as shipwright or construction dress according to their work.
We ate and I bade her good night when the sun went down. I expected her to be gone when I awoke. I awoke when the sun rose. I turned over to see her sitting in the same place as she had been the night before.
"Good morning," she said flatly.
"Good morning," I said, thrilled at my good fortune. Curiosity got the better of me. I said, "Have you been there all night?"
"Yes," she said in the emotionless way I have come to expect from her.
I let it drop. I realize now that a night sitting on the ground was a meaninglessly small amount of time to her. She might sit there a year, and that would still be a miniscule amount of time compared to her lifespan.
She simply accompanied me by mutual agreement after that. I still have no idea why. I am not particularly handsome. I am graying and overweight.
I can't pronounce her name. She doesn't believe I will ever need to use it anyway. If we meet an elf, which happens occasionally, they already know her name. She disappears if we meet a human so introductions are not a problem.
I have learned a lot about elves after spending so much time with her. She became distressed by the noise I made while walking. She taught me how to walk like an elf. I can now walk through dry leaves hardly making a sound. She can walk without making any sound at all. Elves know the totality of nature from second to second. They know how the grass reacts to a slight breeze. They know if the insects are frightened. They can even tell what the fish are thinking at the bottom of a lake. She has taught me the rudiments of performing this feat. I cannot perform any of the wonders she can, but I have learned enough to understand it. When she looses an arrow at a target, she is not aiming at the target, per se. She is sensing how the total situation combines to put her arrow where she wants it. This is a hard idea to grasp, but she thinks the arrow's path more than she aims it.
Elves have very little to say to each other when they meet. They all seem to know the same thing, which is everything. The conversation is mostly limited to pleasantries and reminisces about their last meeting.
Do not ask an elf what they are thinking. I asked what she thought about the way ice forms swirls on a still pond. She replied that it was pleasant. I supposed she had more to say about it so I asked what she really thought about it. She began with a discussion of the delicate interaction of water crystals against the wind and temperature. She continued on to the peaceful sleep of the hibernating creatures under the ice. She remarked on the way the ice reflects sound and how the trees recognize it. She said the trees know precisely where the ice is and how deep it extends. I interrupted her after an hour and thanked her. She said that since humans have a short life, she confines her speech to that which will not overly consume much of my life. I told her she was kind.
Her efforts to avoid consuming my life seem to stifle conversation. I asked why she doesn't sleep. She said she does sleep. I asked how far she could walk without stopping. She said as far as she needed to. I asked her how she disappeared. She said she does not disappear. This is representative of the majority of our conversations.
We leave the falls and start toward the city of Hak. I have a minor chore to accomplish which consists entirely of meeting the King and extending to him the best wishes and heartfelt appreciation of the Ainbor Republic.
I take the winding trail away from the falls and down the canyon to the plain below. I am still frustrated by her curt speech.
"I enjoy your company," she says.
I wheel around to face her. "What?" I ask in disbelief.
"I find you pleasing," she says. "I followed you for some time before I shot the rabbit at our first meeting. I saw you place a grub back into a rotten log you had accidentally broken. I have seen you bury earthworms stranded by a hard rain. I watched you repair the entrance to an anthill even though the ants were attacking you. The lowest things are not beneath you. Your reverence for all of creation is elf-like. You are very amusing. You have shown me kindness in all ways at all times. I have something to ask you that will be difficult to accept or understand. It will require a great deal of discussion. I will not think less of you if you deny my request. Are you willing to hear it?"
It was more than I had heard her say in the last three months. She had never before paid me a direct compliment. I could not imagine what she could possibly ask me that would be so important. "Please ask," I say.
"Will you be my mate?" she asks plainly.
The shock of the moment makes my head swim. The thrilling prospect of holding her had never before entered my mind. She is too much a thing a celestial beauty to hold. My words issue forth as if from far away. "Yes," I say.
Her ivory skin is absolutely flawless, no blemish of any kind. One would imagine a life of several thousand years might result in a scar or two, but none are present. To hold her is to join minds and to understand why speaking is not her preferred mode of communication. She seems a bit passionless although she is quite animated. She assures me that she is reaching the heights of pleasure.
I lay under a blanket of warm furs that she has fashioned from rabbit skins. She sits naked hugging her knees by the fire. The air is brisk and my breath forms clouds as I speak. "Aren't you cold?" I ask.
She says, "It does not matter."
"It matters to me."
"This cold does not matter, it does not mean anything."
I cannot imagine what she could possibly mean, a common occurrence. "Please explain," I say, phrasing the question as an elf might in order to avoid the long series of questions that would otherwise be required.
"This cold will not cause me to freeze to death or suffer frost bite. This cold is a mere nuisance. Therefore, it does not matter."
She is beautiful beyond words, an indescribably luminous being, yet she has chosen me. It is a blessing beyond any that I am worthy of. I still cannot fathom why. "Would you like me to warm you anyway?" I ask hopefully.
"Yes," she says without hesitation as she rises.
This addendum pertains to a matter of some interest.
A small ship was detected approaching at sub-light speed during fifth watch, first tri-annum, first duty cycle. The ship did not respond to standard challenges. Defense protocols were suspended as the craft was small and apparently not armed. A utility cruiser intercepted the craft.
Pressurized entry into the craft was successfully accomplished. The craft was a manned probe from Alpha One that had been launched during the time of the Pioneer Corps. The logs indicate the ship was launched during the Pioneer Corps explorations. Pioneer Corps merged with the Star Systems group shortly after the launch. Several craft were overlooked during the transfer and examination of corporate records, this being one of them. The craft had been heavily scavenged and was only marginally habitable. Many of the ship's systems had been converted to uses other than their intended purpose. The attached visual record only approximates the complete disarray and chaos of the ship's interior. A search ensued to ascertain if any of the crew had survived. An adult human male was discovered alive in the suspended animation unit.
The lone crew person, a mister Van Ellen, has been aboard the craft for three hundred and twenty-two Alpha One years.
Apparently, Mr. Ellen awoke approximately twelve years after launch by some emergency. The suspended animation unit failed. Efforts to contact Alpha One failed. Mr. Van Ellen began to adapt the ship to long-term habitation by making key changes such as innovative food systems modifications and interior structural modifications.
However, as might be expected, Mr. Ellen's mental condition began to deteriorate. He became a drug-addicted alcoholic. His personal logs chronicle his decline vividly.
At some point in his ordeal, he began modifying the suspended animation unit. The result was a virtual-reality neural interface that would be the envy of any commercial company now producing such equipment. Even though the suspended animation unit would not function as intended, the unit was modified to produce the same effect in a virtual-reality context.
Mr. Ellen is in satisfactory physical condition, but his mental functions were degraded due to the long-term exposure to the suspended animation unit modifications. We do not believe he knows he has been rescued. We have moved the sleep unit with Pioneer Ellen still in it to the utility cruiser. Attempting to disconnect Mr. Ellen destabilized his brain functions.
Both the food unit and suspended animation unit modifications are of commercial value. The modification he engineered to produce grain alcohol will be extremely profitable. A Human Management Specialist has transferred control of his intellectual properties to an investment firm. His financial situation should be well adequate to provide for his needs.
The ship records include a great amount of holographic recordings created by Mr. Ellen. These are also commercially viable, although the personal nature of most of the material makes it unsuitable for the general viewing audience.
The ship will be salvaged and scuttled as no owner of record can be located. Mr. Ellen has been remanded to the civilian authorities for medical evaluation. We anticipate a lengthy period of analysis will be required in order to rehabilitate him.
Human Management accepted the transfer of Mr. Van Ellen on fifth watch, first tri-annum, third duty cycle. Mr. Van Ellen survived a failed space mission but sustained significant injuries as a result of the mission. Mr. Van Ellen required five years of medical treatment to recover from the injuries he suffered during his journey. The treatment was not entirely successful. His progress has been slow. The Lambda One Medical Officer has declared him as fit as they are capable of making him.
Mr. Van Ellen lacks any personal identification assignments due to the circumstances of his failed mission. Several cycles were required to establish an identity for him due to the unusual circumstances of his case.
Mr. Van Ellen suffers from severe psychosis and is unfit for duty. His financial holdings are sufficient to pay for his care until he can be processed and released. His financial proxy has secured a comfortable vehicle for him and arranged for supplies to outfit the craft. Mr. Ellen will be deported upon establishment of his credentials as he is incapable of adequately performing any duty.
Mr. Ellen will undoubtedly face many challenges due to his unusual identification record and his mental condition. Human Management has taken the highly unusual step of linking Mr. Ellen to another deportee to aid in his support. This linking will provide Mr. Ellen a proxy during financial transactions and other occurrences requiring identification.
The available choices for this linkage are limited. Human Management has located a female deemed unsuitable for social processing. She is reported as being disruptive and prone to minor criminal acts, but she is not dangerously violent. The prospects of a secure financial future caring for Mr. Van Ellen, and the threat of a lengthy rehabilitation should she fail, should be sufficient inducements to ensure her cooperation.
Mr. Van Ellen and Ms. Siln During will be deported as soon as their credentials are registered.
My ship has at last come aground landing me among the enigmatic and stern inhabitants of Delphi. Many hands run across my face and body as they examine the new and exotic creature who has fallen into their midst. I am ushered from the abode of tribal chiefs to the abode of warriors. I face constant questioning by the inquisitive horde. Their language is rough and unfamiliar but I can make out a few phrases. I tell them who I am and about my mission of peace and exploration. They want to know everything about my mission and me. I answer as best I can.
Satisfied that I pose no threat, they take me to the palace of the King. My long journey has been one of deprivation and desire, but here all wounds are healed. The beautiful alien sky stretches beyond my hopes. The release and freedom are as palatable as the fine meals the attentive natives serve. Beautiful and exotic alien maidens are in abundance. My long sojourn has been devoid of such simple pleasures as the smile upon a pretty face.
I have tarried long in the warm and inviting bath of affection the population has poured over me. However, my stay on Delphi is coming to an end. I shall leave to continue my explorations to the furthest points of deep space. I am presented with a new craft in appreciation of the deep friendship that has blossomed between the natives and me.
An unexpected and exciting turn occurs. One of the entrancing native sirens will serve as my co-pilot. Her charge is to care for me and ease my burdens along the unknown paths we shall travel. I try to explain that the journey may be long and dangerous but she will not be put off. I relent, and in truth I welcome the company.
We enter our sleek craft and settle into the control room. My stoic co-pilot clears for take off. She is well versed in spacecraft operation, our take off is smooth and quick. We depart the atmosphere and once again the perfect emptiness of space envelopes us.
No, empty isn't the right word. It is nothing. We are swallowed by nothing. It is nothing that goes on forever and ever. A crush of emotions threaten to break across my brow but my stalwart companion is there to reassure me. It takes a special type to navigate the vast stretches of nothingness before us. Thankfully, the two of us are just that type.
Siln sat in the sterile office of the Human Management complex awaiting her sentence. She knew it would be a nice long stay in a Productivity Improvement colony. She was painfully aware of what the sentence would mean. She would be learning how to improve her productivity by working her ass off for hundreds of cycles. She slumped sideways in the severe chair, legs dangling over the spindly arm. She was not comfortable but she did not care. She didn't care about anything except getting off the planet. Bad luck had landed her there in the first place. It was getting harder and harder to make her way as youth fled and beauty faded. She was short, a little dumpy, edging toward middle age. Her short hair fell down her face in tattered spikes. The shapeless gray jumpsuit she wore hid a tight suit made of black stretch material. The suit vividly accented every aspect of her figure. A few small holes here and there hinted at the age of the suit. Her short blond hair might be turning gray, she didn't want to think about it. She couldn't understand how she could be as pudgy as she was considering how little she ate. Her dark, deep-set eyes darted about giving the impression of threatened awareness. Her mottled skin and round face accented her somewhat misshapen nose. Once slender and becoming, her appearance now betrayed the abuses of her long exile. Her demeanor was the product of her life on the fringe of society. Her life these past ten years had been a mad scramble from planet to planet. The omnipresent Forces seemed always just around the corner, just about to pounce. She lived in a perpetual state of anxiety and fear. She was not just an outcast. She was less than a person. She was one of the multitudes of people who were condemned to nonexistence. The untold legions who were illegitimate, who had no credentials. It was illegal for her to exist.
She had seen the worst the galaxy had to offer. Only the foulest, most vile destinations were available to those such as her.
The planets outside the Alpha One space were not infested with Forces, yet they were the most dangerous of places. Places with no designation, just a name. A meaningless name for a meaningless life. Alpha None, Dead Stop, Demon's Dream. Names meant to warn would-be invaders but which too often described them perfectly. She had taken the grand tour. She had seen things no one should have to see. Things to horrible to recall, but she could not keep them out of her dreams.
She escaped Dead Stop in the cargo hold of an arms smuggler's battered ship. She had fled when her pyramid scheme collapsed. It had been a good game. She sold partnerships of a phony water mine to the gullible bar patrons she served. She told them they could increase their profits by selling shares to others. She, of course, got a cut from the sales. When the pyramid had expanded to its maximum potential, and there was no revenue for the buyers, it was time to go. She had gotten away in time but a double-crossing Captain left Siln stranded. She had taken Siln's money and then left without her.
Siln stowed away in the first ship she could find. The arms smuggler was in a hurry. He probably had some game going also. He had left the cargo bay door open while he rushed to load his cargo. She had slipped in unnoticed. The bay door didn't look as though it would seal tight. Every part of the ship had taken a blast, hit a rock, or fallen apart. Siln's fears increased as soon as they exited the atmosphere. An audible hiss came from the bay door. The oxygen soon ran low. The pressure in the bay fell so low that two gas canisters exploded. The leak in the door was large enough to purge the toxic gas from the bay before it killed Siln. She blacked out after three hours. She was sure she would never wake up as head swam and the air ran out. Luckily, the smuggler became concerned when the oxygen generator started falling behind. He donned a pressure suit to fix the leak and found Siln on the bay floor.
Siln had been unable to meet the price for her release. The Captain sold her to a slaver on False Hope. The next year had been tortuous. The slaver misused her badly. She did things she could never push completely out of her thoughts. She was eventually sold to a wealthy farmer who had bought her outright. He treated her well. She spent a lot of her time in the main house away from the shabby slave quarters out back. She felt a measure of affection for the man. He was a good man despite his slavery practices. In the end, she had to fly. She had to run because that was her nature. She stole enough money to buy her way off the planet. She ran with no regrets, never looking back. She could not look back; there were too many horrors in the past.
Ponal, the last God-forsaken rock she had fled in a panic, was bad. Very bad. There were few opportunities for a person of her skills. They did not have anything like hard currency. Everything was rationed. The only thing anybody cared about was improving his or her output in order to get more food. She had to get an actual job. There was nothing worse in the galaxy than working a job on Ponal.
There was no such thing as petty theft on Ponal. Every crime was a felony. The authorities turned a blind eye to soliciting. Some things are constant throughout the universe. The best one could hope for in return was a nice bundle of grain. She did not even like grain.
She endured two years on Ponal before she was able to blackmail her way off the planet. A freighter Captain's compromising indiscretion had given her the chance to flee. She had to chuckle at what passed for a compromising situation on Ponal. If that was all it took, she might just turn pro, although she secretly felt that line had been crossed some years ago.
No, she wasn't above selling herself. She wasn't above stealing, cheating, or lying either. She didn't like herself for it but it was in her blood. She had been born into it. Her mother had initiated her into profession. The family business: "How to scam for a living". That was a long time ago and a billion miles way.
"Chelsea!" Her mother was calling from across the street. She had forgotten her name was Chelsea today. That was a rule; don't call each other by real names.
"Coming mother," she called out. The ridiculous blue and white dress with the puffy sleeves and the annoying petty coat flounced along as she hurried to her mother's side in front of the polished wood door. This neighborhood was rich, that was probably why they were there. Her mother had to talk and talk to gain entry to the sector. She had told all kinds of stories and lies. Her mother was good at it. She made men nervous; they fumbled and stuttered when she smiled at them. Sometimes they came to the hotel and Siln had to play outside until they left.
The man at the gate had finally accepted her story. A terrible identity theft had stained her reputation. A series of mishaps had led to her undocumented state. Acquiring the glider they drove had been a frightening adventure. They had gone to a place where men mostly went. Her mother made her hide in the alley under a sheet of wood. She came back and told Siln that the man was sleeping and wouldn't wake up all day. They had taken the cruiser and sped out of town. They slowly cruised through the neighborhoods. Her mom looked back and forth at each house. Her mom said they were looking for a certain type of place. Her mom gave her very strict instructions and made her repeat them back. No real names, smile and be polite, stay clean, say thank you. Siln knew well enough how important the rules were. Very bad things could happen if you didn't follow the rules. Terrible things. Bad people could get you and then you had to go to a place without your mother that was bad. Then more bad things, and more. It was very, very important to follow the rules.
Her mother straightened out her nice suit with the little coat as they stood in front of the immaculate door. The clothes they wore came from another house far away. The pretty but uncomfortable dress Siln wore fit her well. Her mom's suit was a little tight, but her mom said men liked clothes that way. She rang the bell and a prim older woman opened the door. The woman said good day to her mom and then bent down close to Siln's face. The old woman said, "Well, who is this? What's you name, sweety?"
Siln smiled sweetly and answered, "Chelsea."
The woman said, "Well, Chelsea, what are you doing out this fine day?" The old woman was obviously glad to talk to somebody. This is going to be easy, thought Siln.
"I am selling raffle tickets for a new main interface at school," Siln chirped.
Her mother said, "Townsend school sector is trying to improve their interface so they can get more feeds into the classrooms. I know this is a bit out of the Townsend sector, but Chelsea is trying to win the contest for who can collect the most." Her mother smiled and patted her head. The dyed blond curls bounced in front of Siln's face as she tried to keep the fake smile plastered on her face.
"What will you win for a prize?" the old woman asked as if talking to a three year old.
"I get to go to Sky City," Siln bubbled. Sky City was a marvelous place full of fun and wonders. There was not one single chance that Siln would ever see it. I wish I were in a real contest, Siln thought, I would win.
"Oh, how fun." The old woman stood up and clasped her hands in front of her chest as though Sky City were the answers to her prayers. "How much are the tickets?"
That was her mom's department. The tickets were different prices depending on many things. These tickets were going to be expensive.
"Five commons. I know they are high, but the interface is so expensive. Poor little things have to go to the auditorium for Essentials."
If they were lucky, the old woman would give them commons and not a voucher. They would have to sell the voucher on the black market. Her mother's credentials were not adequate for banking transactions. They were not adequate enough for her existence.
"Well," the old woman said with a kindly look pointedly at Siln, "I think the poor little ones just don't get the education they deserve. Please wait here."
That made her mother nervous. Sometimes people called the Forces instead of getting the money. This time luck was with them.
"I'll take three," the old woman said.
Siln was so stunned by the idea that they had just won fifteen commons that she almost forgot to give the old woman the tickets.
"Give the nice woman her tickets, Chelsea," her mother said with a hint of strain in her voice. Siln believed she would be getting another lesson in the importance of rules tonight for that mistake.
"Here you go. One, two, three. Thank you very, very much," she said and she meant it. Getting fifteen commons meant they would be giving this game up for a while.
"Good luck with the contest," the old woman called as they hurried away.
Oh yeah, remembered Siln, the contest. Sky City. As if she was ever going to Sky City. She was heading the other direction. They were headed for the Dives.
Siln stared slack-jawed and dismayed at her disheveled charge.
"This is him? I'm supposed to nurse maid this loon for the rest of my life?" She turned to face the emotionless Human Management official.
"If you decline the assignment, you will be sent to the Productivity Improvement colony for a period of five-hundred cycles. If you abandon him, you will be sent to the colony for life. If his account shows any irregularities, such as large transactions, you will be detained until the matter is explained. Are the terms of your deportation clear to you?" The Human Management official stood expressionless waiting for the pitiful creature in front of her to accept the inevitable.
Siln crumbled under the weight of the sentence. It was a bizarre paradox. She had received that which she never thought possible. She had found financial security and had a full set of credentials. She had her own ship! It was not a bad ship, either. She did not know how the freak beside her got his money, but it had been enough for a pretty decent ship. She was getting off the Lamda Sector Alpha planet scott-free. However, she had to spend the rest of her life with a person that did not even know what planet he was on. She hoped he didn't crimp her style, she was still going to need some spending money of her own.
"Yeah, yeah, alright. Just give me the credentials and we'll get out of here," Siln said.
The official raised a small pointed device and touched it to Siln's arm. Siln recoiled at the touch.
"Cripes. Don't you people ever get tired of poking people? Did the old guy get his?" she said, jerking a thumb toward the man with the vacant expression.
"Mr. Van Ellen has been established and registered with Central Processing. You are now ordered to depart and not return under penalty of Productivity Improvement counseling."
Siln turned without acknowledging the official. She walked across the hanger bay toward the pristine Steward Eight-Hundred that sat gleaming on the circular parking disc.
"Hey, vacuum man. Let's go," she shouted over her shoulder.
The disheveled man in the baggy jumpsuit walked to the ship with an air of dignity and saluted Siln before boarding.
"Oh yeah, welcome aboard." she said, returning his salute.
Successful business travelers preferred the Stewart Eight-Hundred. They were nicely appointed in order to make important business travelers happy. They also carried a fine array of armament that was there to keep the customers feeling secure. Attacks were not good for business. The craft was bulky in appearance with the rear section being larger than the forward section. The styling suggested sleek efficiency. Business travelers wanted something more than a simple transport; they wanted a bit of prestige. Diamond glass inlays of various colors decorated the hull. The swirling pattern gave the impression of multi-colored winds against pearlescent sails.
Siln led her distracted charge up the rear ramp and through the rear port of the gleaming silver ship. She wanted to get a look at the engineering section that occupied the entire aft section. The ramp terminated on the first floor of the main deck. The landing ramp withdrew silently and the door shut with the reassuring sound a good seal makes. A soft whoosh followed by silence. Polished alloy handrails encompassed the walkways that ran around the edge of the two-story bay. A sleek runabout sat in the center of the deck. Siln was pleased beyond hope. It was the nicest ship she had ever seen.
She pulled her shipmate along to the crew section.
The inside of the craft was hushed. That was good. There was nothing worse than a noisy boat. All the edges of the storage lockers and bulkheads were padded. The floor was plush carbon-poly, very nice. Everything was colorful. Siln usually traveled in gray ships, everything gray. The cheapest color there is, gray.
Siln was familiar with the Steward line. She had commandeered a five-hundred series for a short hop. It had been nimble enough to evade the hapless Forces on Berhard Beta. A complete inventory on this one would have to wait. She had to get off this rock before the Forces got twitchy.
"Hey. Strap in," she yelled to the man. He looked disoriented, confused. The man walked to the control room and strapped into the operator chair.
"Not that one. The other one," she snapped. Did the loony bugger think he was going to pilot? She shook her head. He moved over and she plopped into the chair.
Man, this is nice, she thought to herself. She would have to train the neural interface later. Right now, she had to leave and the sooner the better.
She had to come up with a name for the ship. The word caveat popped into her head. Yeah, caveat, she thought. I have complete freedom now with one caveat. What a joke.
"Register Caveat identify," she said.
The computer replied, "Name Caveat registered."
Siln ran her hand across the communication panel and poked the transmit main channel box.
"Non-fleet Caveat departing vector one twenty-six by three hundred."
The navigation unit came to life and the acknowledgement came up on the main panel.
"Okay, space man, hold on," she said as she eased the craft off the hanger floor. The ship was smooth and responsive. "Nice," she said to herself. She rotated the craft to face the exit port and took it out slowly. They exited the bay at twenty feet per second. Still moving slowly, she pointed the nose on the coordinates she had requested. The craft swung gracefully around. "Ok, let's mash," she said and she rolled the thrusters up to full. Her head was thrown against the back of her chair so hard it hurt. She practically blacked out. "Good God," she said, straining to reach the thruster dial at the lower right of the operator station. She rolled the thrusters back to one quarter. The acceleration was still impressive; they were breaking through the atmosphere twelve seconds later.
The Caveat had six ports in the crew cabin. That was a lot by most standards. The view outside faded from light brown to black. Van was suddenly overwhelmed by memories of countless, empty hours in his old ship. He desperately clawed at his flight harness. He fully intended to blow the hatch and jump out.
"Hey, space man. Easy." Siln raced to the frantic Van and held him by his shoulders. She stooped down to look him in the eyes. "Its okay, we're fine. Everything is fine."
The look of panic left his face. Van slumped down in the seat. He looked up at Siln as if seeing her for the first time. "Where am I?" he asked.
"Oh, man, you are a case aren't you?" she said laughing. "Don't you remember anything about getting on the ship?"
"No, I was in a fantasy. That happens to me a lot. I think I spent too much time in the sleep unit. Who are you?" he said suddenly realizing he did not know her.
"Well, my name is Siln. I am supposed to take care of you." She released his shoulders and walked to the back of the cabin. She released the fasteners of the baggy gray jumpsuit she wore over her stretch suit and it fell to the floor. "Good riddance," she muttered. The jumpsuits were the only clothing allowed for workers. It was very difficult to get a man, or a woman interested while wearing one of the shapeless and unattractive suits. One could put their arm behind their back and pull the suit tight enough to reveal a hint of a figure. The very act was illegal.
Van was not shocked by the sight of a human woman in her underclothes; it was a common occurrence in his fantasies. "I know I was adrift and rescued. I remember being in some kind of facility, but I don't remember much more than that. Why are you taking care of me?"
Siln explained the entire situation while she dressed. There was a disappointing lack of form-fitting material in the clothing compartment, but that would be rectified soon. When she finished, she said, "What is your name?" Siln really hadn't paid much attention through the whole sentencing thing.
Van had to think about it. He had so many names; he was not entirely sure which one was the right one. "Van, I think."
"You think? You don't know?" Siln shook her head in disbelief. "How often does that happen to you, going off into dream land?"
"I can't be sure I'm not in a fantasy right now."
"Okay, just try to stay out of trouble. It would probably be best if you just sat still," she said, but Van wasn't listening. His eyes were glazed-over. "Jesus," she said as she went to the engine room to check out the gear.
The jungle was steamy and dense. His crash-landing had been nearly disastrous. The ship had survived but the port power cell had ruptured. He needed Diturium. The prospects of locating any on this planet did not seem good.
Small creatures scurried about his feet as he struggled through the undergrowth. He fought his way into a small clearing. He stood wiping his face as a hot fog drifted through the trees.
The silence suddenly gave way to a deep rumble. The trees in front of him shook violently as if something large was breaking through them. He pulled his weapon just as a monstrous insect broke through into the clearing.
When the creature sensed him, it raised up on its spindly legs, its sharp mandibles towering twelve feet above him. The creature reared back as if tensing for a lunge. A blinding flash of light accompanied by a thundering boom shook him. His vision returned slowly. The creature lay ruined amid entrails and body parts. He stood gaping at the smoldering remains of the creature wondering what had happened.
"Bona a mard'l puy," a voice called.
He turned to face the speaker. A tall, dark-skinned blond woman wearing ragged skins faced him. She was holding a polished silver rod the size of a broomstick.
"Puy," she shouted and the rod erupted in a flash and roar. The ground next to him evaporated.
He dropped his weapon and raised his arms sincerely hoping that was what puy meant.
She jerked the rod in the direction of the wasted insect and said, "Dorm to int stacy"
He began slowly walking towards the insect, again hoping he was following her directions. She came up behind him and poked him in the back hard. She shouted "Int Stacey." He began walking briskly through the brush. They continued for some time. The jungle was radiantly beautiful. Long hanging vines covered with pink and red flowers drooped from the canopy. Extravagantly decorated bird-like creatures soared between the giant trees. They walked up on a path covered in very large paw prints. The woman stepped in front of him and held a hand up. The woman crouched down, signaling him to do the same. They huddled under a broad-leaf plant for a time. She seemed assured that the creature that had made the tracks was not nearby. She put her finger to her lips and whispered "Puy." She led him quietly though a narrow valley crouching and cautious. They exited the canyon and she signaled him to go first. His beautiful captor and savior directed his course with sharp commands and pokes with the fearsome weapon she carried.
The forest began to thin. The jungle gave way to scrub and then to a wide prairie. A gleaming city stood a kilometer in the distance. Tall glass spires rose above shining sky scrapers. Aircraft flew in all directions over the city. He wondered at the dichotomy between the savage woman that held him and the metropolis beyond.
As they neared the city the woman said, "Do."
He stopped walking half expecting another sharp stab in the ribs. The woman stepped in front of him and spoke into the air. "Abat to dubain de arber," she said and stood waiting.
A small silver hovercraft sped toward them from the city. It slowed to a stop in front of them. A distinguished man with gray hair regarded him openly. The man's clothing was modern but unadorned. There were no insignias or other trappings of authority. He looked at the woman and said, "Be avar. Bar."
The woman turned and walked away. The man took a small round disk from his coat and held it in front of his face. He walked slowly forward. A flash of white light erupted between them. Ace was temporarily blinded. He tensed for an attack. When his sight returned, the man was standing at ease.
The man said, "You may enter, the force field is disabled."
Ace was taken aback. "Who are you?" he asked.
The man said, "I am Rosan, you are in the city of Harthallen, and you are a prisoner of the woman who brought you to us. She has brought you here so that we may learn about your race. You will stay with us until we are finished, and then you will be returned to her. Her people are called the Tuvarn. They consider themselves the guardians of the planet. They are a populous race and inhabit much of the planet. They are an advanced people who choose to live primitively. The woman who took you may have looked like a simple native, but she could have destroyed the city if she chose to. You are lucky she did not vaporize you. You could do worse than being a prisoner of the Tuvarn." The man gave him a sideways look and said, "They are a race of beautiful and strong women in need of men."
Rosan turned and walked towards his hovercraft. Ace followed considering whether to repair his ship or remain a prisoner of the beautiful, savage woman who had taken him. They climbed into the comfortable hover craft and Rosan raced towards the city. The air smelled of warm grass and rich soil. It was so much better than the filtered, stale air aboard his craft. A craft that had carried him across the far reaches of the universe and now lay half-buried and covered in vines.
The hovercraft began to slow as it neared the gleaming city. The entrance to the city led through a polished brass-colored metal arch that flicked with hints of images as they passed. The craft jerked to a stop about halfway through.
"Please step out and spread your arms. The sensors have detected a bio-organism that is prohibited within the city."
A swift beam of violet light swept down him from head to foot. Ace suddenly felt ill. He began to weaken. His knees buckled. He staggered and fell to the ground landing on his hands and knees. "What's happening?" he shouted, his fear showing.
Rosan looked worried. "I don't know."
Ace struggled to maintain consciousness. Another violet beam swept across him and he began to feel restored. "What happened," he said as he struggled to his feet. He felt much better in a matter of seconds.
Rosan said, "The results are coming now." He peered intently at the hovercraft's control panel. "You were carrying a great number of micro-organisms that were deemed dangerous. They were removed, genetically altered, and replaced. You should be unaffected. The original organisms will be restored when you leave the city."
Genetically altered? Ace wondered to himself. He was beginning to think he preferred sharp jabs administered by the beautiful native to being genetically altered.
"Yes, well, that's done. Let's continue," said Rosan as if nothing were out of the ordinary.
Ace climbed back into the hovercraft sincerely hoping it did not stop again until they were well away from the arch.
It was hot, damned hot. And it was going to get hotter. The late morning sun bore down upon his back. He cursed the thought of it beating on his face in the afternoon. His saddle creaked as he swayed side to side in rhythm with the plodding steps of his horse. The stinging alkali dust flew straight at him carried by a relentless hot wind. The flats he rode over stretched before him into the distance where a band of gray mountains met the horizon. He might be safe if he could make it to the mountains.
He had to shoot the cowboy that accused him of cheating, the damned sore loser. It was either that or be shot. He could not stay to defend his actions; he was wanted in too many places. He had to run. He left his belongings and ran for the flats. The posse would not follow him onto the cursed plain he now traveled. They knew it meant death to them as well as him. Now he rode slowly, the horizon no closer than it had been the day before.
His horse needed water or there would not be any more riding. He pulled the horse up and got wearily out of the saddle, almost falling down. He had not been off the horse since the day before. He retrieved the canteen and emptied half of what remained into his hat. The horse drank greedily when he put it under her nose. He put the canteen back and mounted the horse. He almost didn't make it. His legs would not lift him. He pulled himself up to the saddle hand over hand. The effort left him drained. The sun was trying to drive him out of the saddle. He hung onto the saddle horn for dear life.
He had too much time to think. Too much time to reflect on his wasted life. A life of drinking, gambling, whoring, there was no debasement beneath him. To think he was once a simple farm boy in love with the beautiful daughter of the town's banker.
"James," she had said with swollen eyes, "I can't see you any more. My papa forbids it." She clutched a lace handkerchief to her chest. Her immaculate blue dress surpassed the Sunday best of any woman that attended his church. Her white bonnet could not contain the cascade of blonde curls that fell from its openings. Her blue eyes were swollen from the tears she had shed at her father's announcement.
"Mary, say you'll run away with me," he pleaded. "We can go to St. Louis. I will find work. We can make a life there." He pleaded in desperation for the love of his life. His heart would wither and die without her.
"You must speak with him. Please convince him you can be a good husband." She turned and ran from him crying into her arm.
He resolved to speak with Mr. Carlson. Mr. Carlson was an imposing man with an imperious bearing who was given to judgments of finality. There was no dissuading him if he declared a ranch forfeit. James waited for Mr. Carlson to return from work. James stepped out from a doorway and addressed Mr. Carlson as he passed. Mary's father was having none of it. He brushed James aside without slowing down. James ran ahead of the man saying, "Mr. Carlson, I wish to speak for you daughter."
Mr. Carlson brought himself up to full stature and roared, "I'll not have my daughter collecting buffalo dung while you scrape a meager living from some piece of sod."
"But Mr. Carlson, I am going to St. Louis to find work. I shall provide a good home for her," James pleaded.
"Go to St. Louis, find this job. I will entertain your proposal then."
That was better than he had expected. He told Mary about the conversation. She had cried for the loss of him but he vowed to return at first opportunity. His parents would be sorely put out running the farm without him, but if moving away would win Mary, then all was worthwhile.
St. Louis was a thriving town with work aplenty, but it was also full of many temptations. He had fallen prey to many of them while struggling for the success he required. His struggle was difficult and the effort changed him. He left the innocent farm boy he had been behind. The day finally came whereby he believed he had attained a measure of success. He had been away eighteen months but now he was ready to return. He sped to the Kansas Territory with great haste. He ran directly to Mary's house, as he greatly desired seeing her again. When no one answered the door, he ran to the back. There was Mary, nestled in the arms of a dapper young man. The cad leaned in to press his advantage. A sudden horror filled James' veins with a fiery rage. The man stood as James roared in anger withdrawing his revolver from his vest without a thought other than murderous hate. He shot the man through the head.
"Allistor!" Mary cried in horror. She spun on James screeching, "Murderer. You will die for this, you vile beast."
He suddenly realized what he had done. His Mary stood before him condemning him to the death he surely deserved. He ran blindly down the street until he spotted an unguarded horse. He stole the horse and fled to the west with only the clothes on his back. He had the good fortune to have stolen a fast horse. He narrowly escaped capture a dozen times. When finally as he crossed a wild prairie, Indians massacred the posse that chased him. He disappeared into the city of Denver where he earned money as a saloon bouncer. He crossed the Rockies where peaceful Indians shared their food with him. From there he rode to Salt Lake City where a fateful card game had sent him to the hellish flats he now crossed.
He dropped the reins. It no longer mattered which direction they went, the destination would be the same. A cruel end to the life of mortal sin he had made. He felt himself fading. His eyes swam and then he knew no more.
A ferocious jolt brought him to consciousness. He struggled to lift his head. He saw his horse drinking from a small pool. He had fallen off the horse when she had lowered her head to drink. He crawled to the edge of the pond smelling the water for signs of corruption. He drank slowly once he was satisfied of its purity. He knew from experience that drinking too quickly from great thirst would cause painful injury. He washed his face. His cracked lips began to bleed.
They camped there over night drinking and resting and continued the next morning refreshed. The mountains loomed closer, he was going to make it. A hard choice faced him. Over the mountains to the settlement of Ely, and a wagon train to the west coast; or down the edge of the alkali flats heading south to Mexico. A stark but safe existence in a foreign land; or a life of comfortable debauchery in San Francisco? When put that way, the choice was obvious. He turned the horse to the west and headed into the mountains.
"Hey, spaceman. Snap out of it." Siln's hands were racing across the panel. "Man the control station, I'm taking weapons," she said in fright. Siln leapt out of the control station seat scrambling to the series of panels located directly behind it. "Take the control station," she screamed in a panic.
That was enough to rouse the disoriented Van. He unbuckled his flight restraint harness and lurched to the control cabin. He settled into the comfortable station realizing he had no idea how to operate the craft.
A violent jolt shook the craft. "Crap!" yelled Siln. "Roll ninety degrees port."
Fear was clouding Van's thinking. He desperately searched for anything that looked like a flight control. He located a display that showed the outline of the craft from the rear with what he guessed were coordinates. He tentatively taped the colored squares under the graphic. A few numbers changed.
"Not the course, you idiot, roll," Siln screamed frantically.
Van poked the panel several times more or less at random. Something happened to the ship. It could have been a roll.
Siln screamed "Yes. Eat this, you bastards." She began yelling, "Yeah, yeah, yeah." Each shout accompanied by the sharp crackle of a weapons discharge. "Yeah, run assholes. You better run." She stepped back from the panel laughing in frightened hysteria. She wheeled on Van. "What the hell? All you had to do was roll, what is the matter with you, can't you fly? You were on a ship for hundreds of years for Christ's sake."
She looked as if she were about to strike Van in the face. Van was ashamed. He was not a part of this world. He didn't know anything about it. He didn't know how to get his own food. He didn't even know how to operate the latrine. He definitely didn't know how to fly the ship. "No," was all he said.
Siln looked at him and crumbled. "Oh. Why didn't you say so?" She climbed into the secondary control station seat. "Okay," she said, "This is the deal." She started with navigation since that was what had almost got them destroyed just a few minutes ago. She thought the goofball learned pretty quickly for a brain-damaged fossil. She left out some of the bells and whistles. She didn't feel like explaining every aspect of modern propulsion, all he needed to know was how to fly the thing.
Van thought he had a pretty good grasp of it when she finished. He was familiar with the concepts, just not the controls. He executed a three-hundred and sixty degree roll with a course change. He brought the craft back to the correct heading performing a spin as he came around. He looked at Siln and said, "Thank you. I'm sorry I blew it."
"Oh no, you didn't blow it," Siln said with a small smile. "We wouldn't be sitting here having this nice talk if you had blown it, we would be outside."
Van was pleased to see her smile. He tried to smile but didn't know if he did it right. "Well, thanks for the lesson. Will you show me how to work the latrine?"
There was a lot of time to sit and think, too much. Siln had too many bad memories. They crept up on her during quiet moments. The Caveat was dark. She was supposed to be asleep, but her past would not allow her any peace. Her sleep was filled with dark memories. Cold and dark like her childhood home, the Dives. There were thousands of people and miles of tunnels. There were levels under levels going down into the frozen bowels of the planet. Alpha One, the shining star of the galaxy, riddled with filth and corruption just beneath its surface. Her mother had remembered when it had been called Earth, but that was long before Siln was born. Calling Alpha One by the name Earth was a serious crime.
She thought of her mother. The pain of regret always accompanied her mother's memory.
They abandoned the car in the downtown business district. Her mother said it would be weeks before the Forces found it. The downtown Forces were too busy with Disruptors to worry about a car. They walked casually. They walked a long time in the bright sunlight. It made Siln nervous. It was too easy to be seen. Her mother said they had to stay above ground. She said they shouldn't be seen on underground surveillance systems anywhere near the car or they would get caught. That was a rule: stay out of surveillance areas. It wasn't an easy rule because almost every place was under surveillance.
They walked until tall buildings gave way to short buildings. The neighborhoods took on a decrepit aspect, vacant lots and abandoned buildings became more common. Approaching an abandoned building, her mother put her hand on her shoulder and bent down to talk to her.
"Siln, we're going to pretend talk now. I'm going to shout at you." Her mother stood up, "Why didn't you go back in town? There isn't anyplace to go here."
Siln took her mother's queue. "I'm sorry mommy, I didn't have to go then."
Her mother put on a frustrated face and started looking back and forth. "Okay, Okay. Come with me." They ducked into the vacant building. Her mother peeked out the window turned to Siln and whispered, "Good job, honey. Stay really close now."
That was another rule: stay really close in the Dives.
Siln didn't have to try to remember that rule. The Dives terrified her. The rear of the building was a jumble of sheet metal and debris. They walked to the rear and her mom lifted a sheet of metal that leaned against the wall. They slipped through a partially-opened door being careful to put the tin back in place. They waited for their eyes to get used to the dark. They began walking down a long, dimly lit staircase. Faint sounds from far below rose to meet them as they descended the darkened stairway. The smell was awful, it made Siln sick. It was as if every bad thing people could make or do waited for them below.
There were dozens of entrances to the Dives. Her mother said the one they were using was the safest. Sometimes they went a different way. Siln did not like those ways. Her mom had fired the gun once, and had to run away from the scene fast. Getting chased out of the Dives was very dangerous. Going out to the top side without looking first might make bad things happen. They stayed in bad places when they didn't have any money. Bad levels---some were very bad. They were lucky because men liked her mother. They could usually find a place to stay, but sometimes they weren't very safe either. She was always cold. It was awful when she got sick. Nobody would talk to them when she was sick. Her mom said she had to hide it but it was hard. Her mom said she had to hide everything. No matter if she was happy, sad, frightened, or sick; she had to keep a plain face. That was a rule.
There wasn't anybody to play with. Her mom said there weren't many children because people couldn't afford to take care of them. Siln was lucky because her mom could take care of her. Sometimes she saw a kid but she wasn't allowed to talk to them. They might find out stuff that would make it dangerous. Bad things might happen. There were a lot of kids up top. They had things to play with. Fun things like bicycles, kites, and balls. She had a ball once. It was blue. They had to sell it. They sold a lot of stuff. Her mom got it up top and brought it down below.
It was scary to get stuff to sell. They would go to different levels to sell different things. Some of the things they sold were dangerous. Siln would have to hide while her mom went to sell things. Sometimes her mom would come back running and yelling. They would run out of the level as fast as they could. That scared Siln a lot, but she couldn't show it.
Her mom told her the Dives went almost to the center of the world. Siln had been very far down but her mom said it went a lot deeper. She said they would never go down there. Not unless a very, very bad thing happened.
"Password," shouted a ragged man.
"Password, my ass, get out of the way." Her mother brushed past him and continued down the stairway. Her mother knew the ways of the Dives well. She was a creature of the dark---dark inside and out. She only took to the light when she had to. She would find some way to scam a few bars and then return to the safety of the Dives. She turned the corner of a landing that opened onto a filthy, littered boulevard. The walls, ceiling and floor were chiseled black rock. All of the Dives was chiseled out of solid black rock. As black as the darkness lying within the horrible tunnels. The floors were rough, no one had bothered to finish them. There was no one in sight but Siln knew they were there just out of sight in the shadows.
Level No Name. No Name was a lawless place. Terrible cries, faint and distant, issued from the darkness as Siln and her mother passed by. Siln did not slow down or look down the darkened street. Her mother had taught her how to survive in the cold, dark places. Don't let it into your head. Make it stay outside. Be very, very awake inside. Her mother paused as they turned the corner to continue down. They stood motionless. Her mother spoke loudly into the darkness, "I'll kill you if you threaten my daughter." She said it plainly. It wasn't a threat, it wasn't done out of fear, it was a simple fact. They continued after a moment and descended past several levels. A faint light lit the stairway. The lighting was the only cooperative project in the Dives. Everyone's life depended on the stairways. The barren rock of the Dives would not give forth any good thing. All of the things needed to survive lay above, and death waited there. The light grew stronger until they reached a level that had a sign: New Bedlam. Siln knew the way well, this was her hometown.
They stepped off the landing and walked under the New Bedlam sign. A voice from the shadows called out "Stop. Who are you and what do you want?"
Her mother yelled back "I'm whoever you want me to be and I want the same thing as you, a hot meal and a cold beer."
"Tanner," a young man said in surprise and happiness. He ran out of the shadows carrying a rifle. "Hey, how are you? Silly Siln, too. Wow, look at you," the man said to Siln who was still wearing the ridiculous blue dress with the puffy sleeves and annoying petty coat. "Going to a party?" he said as if he meant it.
"No," Siln said disgustedly, "Mom made me wear this."
"Well you look like a regular little rich girl." The man turned to her mother. "You weren't up long, get chased out?"
Her mother started walking down the darkened street. "No. We made a good score so I gave it up. Anything new?"
"The Disrupters showed up armed to the teeth. They would have wiped us out if they had attacked. All they wanted was to recruit people. I think Harrols went with them. There was another war on level eighteen, it only lasted a couple of days. There were some pretty big explosions. Shook the walls. Nobody tried to get in. Where you headed?"
"I'm going back to Abbair's compound. Stop by sometime," her mother said. She tossed off the remark casually, but Siln knew her mother liked the man. Siln did too, he was nice. The young man waved goodbye as he returned to his guard station. "When we get to the compound, don't tell anybody about the bars the lady gave us, okay?"
That was another rule: Don't say you have money, and don't show anybody your money. "Okay," Siln said, although she knew the rules pretty well. They walked down the darkened street through the deserted bazaar. This wasn't market day. They could only have market once a week to save fuel and air. Small groups of people stood in doorways or huddled around small fires. It was perpetually forty-eight degrees in New Bedlam. Warmth was a precious commodity. There was plenty of wood to burn, but oxygen was limited. Enforcers patrolled the streets putting out fires when they found them. The buildings rose from the boulevard to the top of the tunnel three stories up. All the streets were lined with buildings that rose from the street to the ceiling. The effect was very confining, claustrophobic. The majority of people who got taken by the Forces were outside because they couldn't take the dark, cold confinement. You had to shove it out of your head even though it keep trying to push its way back in. Just being outside was scary after a while. Siln felt like she was going to fall off the planet up into the sky. She had to stare at her feet when she was topside.
A knot of men on the street corner eyed them as they passed. "Yowee, baby," said one of them. "A hot plate with a little hors d'oeuvre. You want to play hide and seek, little girl?" He grabbed his crotch with both hands and hopped towards them lewdly.
Her mother reached into her coat. She held up a small gun. She held it pointed into the air and said, "Bite me, asshole."
The man adopted an expression of disappointment. "Aw. It was going to be a fun game. Too bad." The group of men laughed loudly as her mother led her on.
They turned off the wide street onto a narrower side street. Here they passed residences. Some occupied, some in ruins. Siln began to tire but she knew they were close. A warm yellow glow spread across the ceiling of the cavern as they approached the gate. Her mother quickened their pace until they stood in front of a wide double door.
"What's your name and business?" a voice called.
"Tanner and Siln. We seek shelter," her mother replied.
There was a pause that lasted an uncomfortable amount of time. "Sorry, had to look it up by hand, computer's down. Come on in." A bright-eyed middle aged woman wearing a loose blouse swung the right door open. She said, "Hi Tanner, hi Siln. Sorry for the formality, the Disrupters were here a while back. Well, not here, at the front. Everybody gets the whole treatment now."
"Hi Tarri. Scared me," her mom said, "I thought I hadn't paid my bill or something." The two women walked into the warm glow of the compound laughing and chatting as they went.
Siln felt safe, at home. A young boy ran by. Siln shouted "Mori, hi." The boy hesitated long enough to wave and then ran off. Siln wished they could just stay here. She wished they didn't have to go up where bad things happened. Up where everybody hated them.
They walked through a wide courtyard into a great hall carved from native stone on three sides. A throne sat at the end of the hall on a ten foot dais. The throne was empty. It usually was. It was primarily for show when outsiders came to dicker. People milled about. Many sat at tables, some eating. The mood was relaxed. They walked up to a long table at the foot of the throne that stretched nearly the entire width the hall. A group of people looked up as they approached.
"Tanner, welcome back. Good hunting?" an older man asked. He was dressed conservatively, inconspicuously. If anyone new entered the room, they would not have been able to pick the Master out of the crowd. Standing out in a crowd was not advisable.
Her mom answered, "Good enough. Have room for us for a few weeks?"
"Always," the man shouted. "Go see the purser. Come back and tell me about your trip." He loved tales from the topside. He hadn't been topside for thirty years and had no intention of ever returning, but he loved hearing stories about it.
"Alright," her mom said with a wave. She bent down to talk to Siln. "Ok honey, you stick around here. I'll be back in a while. Watch out for your dress, don't get it dirty."
"I will, mommy," Siln replied. She looked around for a familiar face. She spotted old Sam sitting at a table. Sam was fun, always laughing and telling stories about the old days. His big belly hung over his trousers making him somewhat unique. There were not many who could afford enough food to gain weight. "Hi Sam," she yelled as she waved from across the hall.
"Hello Siln, the topside traveler. Fearless in the face of Forces," he growled. "Yet, pretty as a flower in a party dress." He flipped the petty coat up exaggerating the embarrassingly ostentatious look of her outfit.
"Stop," Siln cried. "Mommy made me wear it. We sold raffle tickets to rich people."
"Oh she did, did she?" Sam intoned seriously. "Well, your mommy is a very resourceful woman. I'll bet that dress paid off big," he said with an eye cocked toward the little girl.
Siln looked at her feet. "I'm not supposed to talk about money," she said, scuffling her shoe.
"Never mind, enough said. Come sit down. I'll tell you a story about a little girl who had to learn to make it on her own. A girl about your age."
Siln walked up to the portly, aging man. He swept her up into the crook of his arm. She liked it, it was snuggly and safe.
"This is a story about a little girl with no mommy or daddy. She had a mommy and a daddy when she was a baby, but something bad happened. The poor little girl was left all alone in the big, scary world with no one to look out for her. But she was brave, and smart. All day long she would hide. All night long she would creep, creep, creep like a mouse. Oh, she found all kinds of magical places that no grownup had ever seen. She became very wise for such a young girl. Then one night a big cat attacked her. It scratched her very badly. That scared the little girl because she didn't have anyone to take care of her. She decided she would get that cat. She laid out a perfect little cat trap and in a couple of nights, bam! She had that cat."
Siln jumped at the loud noise the man made when the little girl caught the cat, but she settled right back down into his snug and cozy arm.
"Well, what are you going to do with a big cat? You can't let it go or it will hunt you every night. She was sorry that she had to do it, but she killed that cat. She thought it seemed like a shame to waste it. She thought about eating it but you can't eat a cat, I don't care how you cook it. That's why there are so many, they're no good to eat. But that nice furry coat it had, that was nice. She skinned the cat using a broken bottle. All she had after that was a soggy lump of fur that wasn't very nice."
It made Siln queasy to think about a cat skin. That didn't sound like a very nice thing at all.
"The little girl started working with it. She scraped off all the yucky parts but the skin was still not very nice. She soaked it in water and scraped it again. It was better then, so she looked for something to dry it with. She tried dirt, but that was very bad. She tried drying it in the sun, but then it got all stiff. She tried everything she could find, but nothing worked. Then, late one night, she went creep, creep, creep and came to a place where topsiders made wood things. What do you think she found? There were piles of sawdust. She stuffed her pockets full of sawdust and took it back to her camp. To this day nobody knows what she did with that sawdust, it's her secret, but somehow she made that cat skin as soft and fluffy as it was when that mean old cat had worn it. But, it wasn't very big and she couldn't cover up with it. She needed more skins. That little girl started hunting cats and making their skins into the nicest furs you can imagine! One night an old woman happened upon her camp. When the old women saw the furs, she let out a whoop of wonder. She said, Honey, are these yours? The little girl was afraid but brave. She told the old woman the whole story. The old woman laughed. She said Child, we are going to be rich. The woman began fashioning the furs into coats, shawls, wraps, gloves, all sorts of things. Soon people came up from the Dives looking for the wonderful furs. The little girl and the old woman became famous, in a way. The old woman became known as the Furrier, and do you know what they called the little girl?" The man lifted Siln up to look at her. "Tanner! They called her tanner because she tanned the hides."
"Mommy," Siln shouted.
"That's right. That was how your mommy became Tanner. Everyone knows her, everyone loves her, and they all want one of her coats. That's the reason she doesn't make them anymore," he said with a wink. "They got too popular. People took Furrier away to make coats for just them, but Tanner escaped. She escaped down into the Dives. She has been across more of the Dives than anyone else I know. She has seen the lowest level ... Black Water. She has lived among the wild tribes of level one. She flows through these walls like water. Oh, you are a lucky little girl. A lot luckier than she was at your age. You should take that party dress, pack it up nice, and kiss your momma for giving you such a valuable tool. She's given you a lot of things, not the least of which, is knowing how to survive. You are a lucky little girl."
She stood naked atop the mount as her mate slept. Her union with the human was inevitably destined for sorrow. She would mourn his death centuries after he had turned to dust. She would not consider that now. She would only allow herself to experience the happiness that his adoration and attention brought.
Elf love is deep. Deeper than time. The bond between elf lovers is one of seamless union. The intimacy is complete. It is not exuberant like human love ... human emotion is wild, desperate. Time runs down upon their brief lives so mercilessly that they lunge for happiness with abandon. She longed for that passion. Her desire was not elfish. The shameful fact could not be denied. Self-deception is not possible for elves.
Her elf mate from two thousand years ago sat by a quiet stream several leagues in the distance. She could see him and he could see her. Their parting had been a sorrow that time would not forget. Their love was profound. There are no secrets in the complete sharing of souls that elves experience. But, her shameful lust could not be contained, a fact he was deeply aware of. She left him for a life of brief happiness followed by inevitable sorrow. A human's life is like the strike of a match. A spark followed by an intense flame that soon dies.
She and her human mate sometimes encountered her kind. He could not sense the sorrow and pity that she elicited from other elves. No other elf had her pitiful affliction. The greetings were brief and trite. Her mate thought it normal. It was far from normal. She was all but shunned. She would remain an outcast long after every human had passed into history.
She descended the hill and stood above the man that loved her so. His love was hot, passionate. She wished that she could experience those emotions, another desire that marked her. He slept in a blissful state of oblivion. Elfish sleep affords no such comfort. Sleep for her was a drop of water falling into the ocean. A loss of identity amidst a sea of existence. A place where her attachment to the ephemeral world of humans stood out in stark tones.
Her presence awakens her mate. Startled, he jerks around to look at her. The moment amuses her. The transition from sleep to wakefulness is not easily made for humans. He stares at her, eyes wide, too shocked to speak.
"I am cold," she says with obvious intent.
"Here," he says throwing back the cover, "get under the blanket with me."
His body is warm, even if only for this small moment in time. She can feel his excitement at holding her close. There is no hope for her. This is her vice.
Van awoke standing in the crew section facing the entertainment panel. "Where are we?" he asked assuming Siln was near.
"A million miles to the left of where we were last time you asked," came the muffled answer from under the pile of blankets on the bunk behind him.
He asked, "How long have I been standing here?"
"A day. I tried to get you to eat but you were gone. It's midnight, go to sleep," Siln said.
Siln begin to snore. Van envied her peaceful sleep. He tried to recall a time when he had slept quietly. He feared he might never be able to sleep like that again. He went to the mess. The roomy food processing area was situated across from the weapons console, just behind the control station cabin. The arrangement seemed odd. Van thought perhaps the builders wanted to keep the crew separated from the passengers. The ship was certainly roomy for the two of them, but no where near as big as Van was used to. He remembered the cavernous main bay of his old ship. The ship he never named. The ship he dismembered so completely that the entrails clogged the passageways. That ship was huge. The whole premise of his mission seemed ridiculous. The idea that he could travel for years and years, find something valuable, extract it, and carry it back to Earth was beyond hopeful thinking. Somebody had to have had an angle somewhere. Somebody was making money somehow.
He poked the food processing station panel until something hot came out. It smelled somewhat beefy. It had the consistency of crumbly meatloaf. He picked at the steaming lump suspiciously. He took a nibble. It seemed marginally edible. Everything was so strange. The fork didn't look like a normal fork; it was flat for one thing. The plate the food was served on was flat. He tried to navigate the command structure to produce a cup of coffee but the best he could do was something that was brown but not coffee flavored. It tasted a bit like roasted nuts.
He sat eating his sad meal without any joy. Nothing was right. He hadn't brushed his hair since he had been rescued. They didn't use hair brushes; they used some kind of wand that they waved over their heads. They didn't have tooth brushes. They didn't carry wallets. He was homesick. Homesick for the planet that he thought was so mundane when he had left it. But, there would be no homecoming. That world was gone. It isn't even called Earth anymore, he thought, now it's Alpha One. All the people he knew, all his family, everyone he worked with, all dead for hundreds of years.
His childhood had been a Canadian's dream. He lived in a moderately-sized town in the middle of an expansive wilderness. He and his father went on long excursions to uninhabited places. Pure water, pure air. Days of peace and beauty. His boyhood home was unremarkable in every way. Plain and simple as their neighbor's house next door, and the house beyond that. His school was full of happy, healthy children. The parks were completely safe. Children played outside until after dark with no fear. Bucolic peace was not to his liking, however. His fate belonged to the stars. He longed to join the ranks of the heroic Pioneer Corps.
The Pioneer Corps were proud men and women who were strong and brave. They faced the unknown fearlessly, eager for the challenge. He decided at an early age that his future led to space. His parents tried to dissuade him. His mother lived in fear that he would succeed. Pioneer Corp was not without danger. In fact, their safety record was dismal. "The future of the human race is in outer space!" That was their motto. Saving the human race was worth the risk. It hadn't turned out quite as he had expected.
He was a relic that belonged in a museum diorama. The setting would be a white office. Neon lights would paint the tile floors in harsh tones. Desks piled with folders full of loose papers would crowd the aisles. He would be working at a keyboard while a coworker leaned over his shoulder to point out something on a computer screen. In the background a group of people dressed in suits would be sitting at a conference table. All common-place things that no longer existed. Van drifted off dreaming of an Earth that no longer existed.
The bustling street teemed with people coming and going in a hurry. Dorn Bremmer, private detective, stood in the shadows of a skyscraper doorway. He was watching for the lady in white.
A man wearing a tattered suit threw down a large cigar butt on the street. The stench was unbearable. Dorn stepped out of the doorway and crushed the smoldering wad of reeking leaf. The light touched his shoulder. He looked up to see if he had been spotted. The lady in white stood frozen before him. Her eyes went wide when she saw him. She turned on her heel and made a bee-line for the subway entrance.
Damn, he thought. No good chasing her, she got a good look. He would just have to sneak up on her some other way. He cursed the goon that had dropped the cigar. He hunched over against the night, the collar of his coat pulled up to hide his face, as he walked slowly down the street. A brightly-lit bus roared by, the diesel fumes lingering all the way down the block. There were no people hanging out in doorways, not in this part of town. That was what had tipped off the lady in white. No, this part of town was for smartly-dressed shoppers and well heeled business people. Not like it was in his part of town.
He turned down a darkened street. The street got darker as he walked, the mood became ominous, the stores less shiny. The air was heavy with tense anticipation, as if danger lurked in the shadows. The earthy aroma of coffee shops and leather clothing did not hold sway here. Here the dank air hinted at foul places hidden just under a thin veneer of civility. He turned down an even more foreboding street. He ducked into a narrow door after glancing quickly both ways. He shut the door behind him and peered out of a corner of the glass. Satisfied no one was on his tail; he mounted the narrow steps and began the three-flight ascent to his office. A single naked light bulb hung five stories above him lighting the stairway. The bulb swinging in a two-inch arc caused the shadows to shift. The staircase had an unwholesome smell. No one smell stood out, but an odor speaking of neglect hung thick in the air. Old shoes, bare wood, dust and grime, sweat, fear, failed hopes, desperation; it was a rich blend all right. He slowed as he neared the third floor and put his hand under his jacket feeling for the butt of the snub nose thirty-eight-caliber revolver he carried. He made the last few steps slowly, quietly. He took off his hat and held it a foot over his head. He pounded out the last five steps with his hat held aloft by an outstretched hand. He put his hat back on when his eyes were level with the floor. Seeing no one, he walked quickly to an unmarked door and threw back the lock while looking over his shoulder. Quickly ducking in, he waited until he was sure it was quiet.
Dorn slumped against the door and threw his fedora at the sorry green couch, missing by a foot. He stripped off the long raincoat. His disguise, an invisible man in a raincoat, he thought. Too bad it didn't fool the lady in white.
Bremmer didn't take off his gun, he seldom did. He scuffed across the wood floor and sat in his tired old chair. The wood desk had so many scratches that it looked like the engraved stone tablet in the museum downtown.
The etchings on his desk told the sorrowful story of his life. The promising career, the fall from grace, the descent into the deadly purgatory he now inhabited. A purgatory he would inhabit until he was absolved of his sins by death.
He had been a detective. It had taken years to rise from the rank of beat cop to detective. His partner, Detective Pryman, was as dirty as they came. He shook down drug dealers. He coerced prostitutes into lewd acts. He took cuts from bookies. He collected protection. Bremmer had turned his back on it for over a year. That sort of thing was common among the ranks of the vice detectives, but Dorn hadn't wanted any part of it. That wasn't the reason he had become a cop, victimizing the very people he had sworn to protect. Who did these people have, if not him? Nobody cared about street life. It was dog eat dog and the biggest dog won. He wasn't going to let that happen. He was the biggest dog.
He finally reached the breaking point. He spilled his guts to his Captain. He was flattened when the Captain told him to forget about it. He didn't know what to do. The Captain ... dirty? How? He took his allegations over the Captain's head. One night his partner disappeared in the middle of their shift. Several thugs cornered him in an alley and took turns working him over until he was a limp rag. They told him nobody cared about his story. The force didn't need it, the Commissioner didn't need it, and most of all, the Mayor didn't need it.
The Captain called him into the office the next day. The Commissioner and the Lieutenant were there. The Lieutenant said, "We know you're dirty. We're going to give you a pass on this one. Turn in your badge and gun, you're fired."
Bremmer saw it all in a flash. All the filth of the street going right up to the top. How far? The Governor? The Senator? He saw how completely naïve he had been. How he had been living in a rose garden where people acted out of duty when in fact it was a garden of thorns.
He was not safe anywhere after that. Any cop that could get a shot off at him took it. The street turned against him. Anybody that stuck up for him got beaten down in a hurry. He was lowest of the low, the bottom dog.
He jerked the open middle drawer on the right side of his desk to reveal a bottle of whiskey. He retrieved it and spun the cap off as he turned his chair around to stare out the filthy window at the gray apartment building across the street. There were people inside living their lives. They might be hard lives full of tough luck, love gone bad, but they were a life none the less. He took a long, hard pull from the bottle. For a brief moment he forgot everything, all he knew was the taste and smell of the cheap whiskey. He laid his hands in his lap wishing it would last. What would you call this, he wondered? A life?
He swung the chair around and tossed the bottle into the drawer then kicked the drawer shut with a slam. He grabbed for the butt of his .38. Kicking that drawer shut was careless, he thought. Careless means dead. He turned on the battered desk light with the torn shade when he was satisfied no one was near. A manila folder lay open on the desk. He leaned over it thinking aloud, "Now what about the lady in white?"
"Hey, you going to eat that? You've been sitting there all night." Siln tossed the plate of half-eaten polycarb into the refuse processor. "What the heck is that stuff in the cup?" she asked, eyeing the brownish liquid suspiciously.
The shreds of fantasy melted slowly away. The dirty office strewn with paper became a gleaming space ship with not a single piece of paper aboard.
"I can tell you what it's not ... it's not coffee," Van said.
"Yeah? Well, you can forget about coffee. That's an Alpha One thing. I had some once when my mother was alive."
Siln fell quiet. Just the mention of her mother hurt. She stood staring at the wall with her fists clenched. She fought to contain the bitterness rising in her throat. She was afraid her voice would betray her feelings if she spoke. Showing her feelings was something she had learned to fight against. There were too many vultures looking for a weak spot. Too many germs waiting to attack an exposed nerve. She swallowed hard as she turned to Van and saw him staring at her.
"What are you looking at?" she snapped.
"My mother is dead, too. Everyone I've ever known is dead. I lost them all at once when I woke up a few years ago. I don't think I would hang around with me, if I were you. Everybody I get to know dies." I would sell my left index finger for some opiates right now, Van thought. His mind began to work on the problem.
"Yeah, well, I wouldn't be here at all except for getting my credentials restored. You're lucky they did yours, you would have been royally screwed."
"What is that all about?" Van asked.
"What is what all about?"
"The credential thing, why is that so important?"
Siln let loose a belly laugh. When she recovered, she saw that the confused man in front of her was serious. She tried to sort out the answer. It was such an obvious thing that she could not find the words. It was like trying to answer the question why does two plus two equal four. She walked to the table and sat down beside him.
"When you are born, you are given a genetic sequence that identifies you. Usually everyone gets a full set when they are born, but sometimes they get a partial set or maybe none at all. That is what happened to me. My mom had bad credentials. Her mom and dad were on the run. They got caught and she escaped, but she didn't have credentials after that. Since she didn't have any credentials, then I couldn't either. If I had credentials, then she could have accessed services through me." Siln stopped to gauge how well Van was keeping up.
"So what does that mean, when you have bad credentials?" Van asked. He still didn't understand what the big deal was.
Siln stood up abruptly. "It means you can't do anything!" she blurted out pounding her fists on the table and causing Van to jump back. She lurched to the opposite wall, her clenched fists held to her chest. "You can't go anywhere because they are always watching. You can't have a nice little life in a nice little house," Siln shouted pounding the walls with both fists for emphasis. "You're nothing," she said as she slumped into the panel, arms limp, eyes unfocused. "You can't survive without credentials. It is their way of weeding out undesirables. They do not kill them outright. Executions are too expensive. They let them starve and rot, scrounging in the garbage with the rats until they die." Siln sagged against the wall feeling empty of emotions ... numb.
Van could read the history of defeat in her. He knew she wouldn't talk about it but he plunged ahead anyway. "Is that what happened to your mother?" he asked hoping she wouldn't turn on him.
Siln's expression didn't change. "Yeah."
"I'm sorry," Van said.
"Me too," Siln replied. She pushed herself away from the wall with great effort. "She ran until she couldn't run no more. She got thrown out like so much garbage."
Siln reeled over to the food processing station. "Honberry juice in a gallon bowl with a lid, yogurt and corn," she said, casting a sly glance in Van's direction. She carried the food to the table. Van wondered at the quart of juice in the over-sized bowl. Siln went to the arms locker. She retrieved what looked to be a handgun. "Ok, check this out," she said as she poured the corn and yogurt into the honberry juice. She stirred the bowl until the mixture took on a sickly color that smelled terrible. Van wondered if she actually meant to consume the obnoxious mixture. She fiddled with the insides of the gun with a look of great concentration stirring the contents again Siln put the lid on the bowl. She took careful aim at the bowl and fired the weapon. Van recoiled but instead of a blast, the gun emitted a soft beam.
Seeing Van's look of wonder, Siln said, "Honberry has the highest sugar content of anything in the processor, corn has starch and the yogurt has yeast."
Van immediately understood. He had several years of distilling experience. "How are you going to ferment it?" he asked hopefully.
"That's the cool part," Siln exclaimed. She was clearly enjoying herself. "Setting the blaster at the lowest setting and disabling all but the up phase emitter, you get a frequency that stimulates yeast."
Siln stood with a look of intense concentration as she held the gun on the bowl. The ruddy liquid in the bowl began to change color. It became opaque, then it slowly turned a muddy red. "There, done," she said with a flourish.
She dipped two small glasses of the mixture out of the bowl. Van took the offered glass apprehensively. "Behold the wonder of the modern age," she cried, "Rocket fuel." She swallowed the contents in two gulps. She struggled to maintain composure while waiting for Van to follow suit.
He obliged by tipping his head back and tossing down the drink. He was suddenly wracked by convulsive gagging. His face turned bright red and his eyes filled with tears. He looked as though he was going to fall out of the chair.
Siln was laughing hysterically. She danced around him giggling madly.
Van wiped the drool from his cheek after he could control himself. He eyed the cavorting devil before him. "Oh yeah, that was really funny. What the hell was that?"
Siln reeled over to the wall holding her midsection. "Oh, God. That was funny. You should have seen yourself," she said still chuckling. "That beautiful concoction is the only combination of materials on board which will produce alcohol. It's too bad the blaster energy corrupts the flavor. Nobody has ever been able to counteract that. On some ships they won't even let you order honberry juice and corn in the same week."
That sounded like a challenge well suited to Van's skills. He had turned food processor modifications into an art form. He resolved to set about fixing that problem. He dipped his glass it the bowl again.
"Whoa, space boy!" Siln exclaimed. "Not that much. That's the secret. Only take as much as you can swallow in one gulp without it touching your tongue."
"But you took more, it was a couple of swallows," Van said.
"Yeah, but I knew what was coming. I did it so you would take a big drink. That was funny!"
"That's just plain mean," Van said trying to stare down the sickly red liquid. He poured a bit back into the bowl. He carefully tipped the glass back letting the liquid fall onto the back of his throat. It was much less disgusting than the first drink. He tried to put a name to the taste but there was not anything like it. There was a burnt taste, like maybe burnt cabbage but nastier. A bitter, acrid after taste followed. The room suddenly blurred. He almost fell out of the chair. "Wow, that stuff's powerful," he said slurring his words.
Siln looked considerably more relaxed than before the drink. "That's the other thing. The alcohol gets changed too. It's like super-booze. This is enough to last for days," she said waving a languid arm through the air. "It wears off quick, though. We'll be straight in fifteen minutes."
"So you and me got credentials? That's good, right?" Van was enjoying the numbing effect of the drink.
"Yeah, oh yeah. Credentials are good. Oh yeah, we can do anything, go anywhere," Siln said, tipping her head back and holding on to the forward bulkhead. She swung back and forth singing, "I'm a real girl, oh, a real girl now. I'm a real girl."
Van stared at the swaying Siln as if in a dream. His eyes would not stay focused. He said, "Wha a heck's in this tuff?" trying to focus on the ruddy concoction he held.
"Stardust and pixie wings, magic beans and slimy things, lollipops and bugs," Siln sang to the ceiling, her head tipped back. She let go of the bulkhead, executed a wobbly spin, and landed against the counter.
Van felt the beginnings of an unpleasant sensation in the back of his head. He realized he was sobering up as he concentrated on the growing pain. The pain grew like a seed of corruption sprouting in his head. It suddenly overwhelmed him. His head fell onto the table with a thud.
Van rolled back and forth holding his head with both arms. Siln said, "Oh yeah. I forgot to mention that part. It will only last about ten minutes." Siln slid to the floor with her back against the lower storage bins, neither one speaking for several minutes.
Van lifted his head off the table. "You are just plain evil, you know that?" he said.
Siln didn't move from her disheveled position. "Uh huh, yep. Everyone knows that ... mom knew it, Forces knew it, and the farmer knew it. Mom lost her credentials before I was born, she never said how. I was born without credentials. I mean, if I got sick and had credentials, I could have gone to a regular doctor, but since my mom, my legal guardian, couldn't go too, neither could I."
"What do you mean your mom couldn't have gone too?" Van asked.
"When you don't have credentials, you are persona nongrata," Siln said, etching the quotes into the air with two fingers. "You can't go into any business that is credentialed, and no business without credentials can exist out in the open. So, everybody goes underground. If you get caught topside," she said pointing up, "they detain you. Sometimes they keep you. Sometimes nobody ever knows what happened. Without credentials you are dirt, living in the sewers. Eating crap and drinking mud. Sometimes we would go topside to run some scam mom would dream up. I would see all these kids coming out of nice little houses all clean with nice clothes. We would end up running like hell, one step ahead of the Forces, so we could get back to the sewer. Freezing, dark, scary as hell. What did I do to deserve that?" she shouted, looking at Van for an answer. "I was just a kid. Why did I have to live like that?"
Her voice trailed off as she sat leaning against the wall staring at nothing, hands laying on the deck with her palms facing up as if in prayer. Van tried to imagine a ten-year old Siln crouching in the cold darkness scrounging for food. "I'm very sorry Siln," he said. He considered patting her back but didn't.
"Yeah? Well, nothing you could have done about it. I guess I'm lucky you came along." She wiped her eyes with her shirt as she drew herself up off the deck.
The pounding in her head was easing a bit. A gnawing compulsion drove her out of the mess and into the operator station. She plopped down in the comfy contoured seat and surveyed the star chart. They were not heading anywhere. She had just picked a direction without any thought of a destination when they left. As she sat staring at the brightly-colored displays wondering if the time had come. She feared she could not stand the consequences. She made a decision. It was probably not a very good decision. It was something she had wanted for a very long time.
Van entered the cabin and sat next to her. "What's up?" he asked.
Siln fought to keep the emotions that were washing over her from showing. She said, "We're going to go get you some coffee."
Ty is the first syllable of her name and that is what I call her. I finally convinced her that having a name would make my life better. Elves do not shorten names but she allows me this liberty. I have convinced her to come to town with me. She usually waits outside of town while I conduct my business. She appears out of nowhere when I return. She says there is no such place as nowhere. I told her that seeing her standing alone while I traveled to town is heartbreaking. She says the brief moment she waits is of no consequence to her. I explained that even that brief moment of parting is significant in my short life. She can understand that.
I obtained some poor clothes hoping to make her less conspicuous by dressing her plainly. She is still a rare beauty even in the coarse clothing I have given her. She holds her bow to her chest underneath the drab, hooded smock. Her quiver is slung across her neck and hangs nestled between her breasts. I instruct her to keep her face down. Anyone who lays eyes on her will be struck dumb by the sight. That she endures these indignities is a wonder, for she is proud and majestic. I told her that she must be a princess among her people to account for her regal bearing. She says that she is no such thing. I don't think she would tell me even if I were right.
The road to Jo is well traveled. Many carts and horses carrying bundles of goods pass by. No one pays us any attention. We are a meager couple traveling to town to find work by way of explanation. My traveling clothes are plain and worn. Appearing to be wealthy is hazardous to one's health.
We enter the gate. The heavy mud walls are topped with sentries, this is not a land free of strife. The heavy doors are hung on well designed hinges and reinforced with hammered iron and swing shut by themselves when the blocks are removed. The gate is shut at sunset, and soldiers are housed in barracks arrayed along the great wall. Scores of defenders can mount the wall just moments after an alarm is sounded.
The street that leads from the east gate to the west gate is paved in slate, and lined with fine shops. The main road leading though town is the best business location, since the shops are the most likely to be rich in fine wares. The merchants pay the city council dearly for the advantage of this location. The shops grow less fine as one leaves the main street, and turn to little more than huts at the furthest reaches.
The tobacco shop on Main Street is exquisite, the finest in the land. The clothing shops are many and wonderful. I would dearly love to buy a fine gown for my beautiful Ty. To such she says she has no use for one ... but I would still like to see her wear one.
We duck into the archery shop to buy a brace of arrows. The shopkeeper regards us openly but smiles when I produce the coin. Ty still has every arrow she had when I met her. Mine are spread all over the land. I don't know why I even bother loosing them, Ty usually brings down the target before I get my arrow nocked. She sometimes allows herself a small laugh at my clumsy efforts. That, in truth, is why I persist.
We are making our way to an inn off the main thoroughfare. Staying in the fine houses I would prefer would reveal us as well heeled. That is a comfort we will have to do without until we reach Fahlston at the far end of the Sawd plain. The look of the citizenry has fallen since my last visit. I am beginning to doubt my choice of seeking lodging here. The streets have become dark and threatening. The deserted street feels as though it is closing in.
A voice from the darkness calls out. "Would you spare a coin for a troubled soul?" A twisted figure steps out from the shadows. Before I can answer another steps out behind.
"Maybe you'll be giving a might more than a coin, yes?" the largish man behind growls as he begins to approach.
Ty suddenly whirls in a circle. When she stops, the two men are lying in the street, each with an arrow in their eye.
"What are you doing?" I shout after I realize what had just happened.
"They were going to harm you," she says plainly as she stoops to pluck the arrow from the larger man's head.
I'm at a loss. If we are caught, Ty will be exposed and I will be imprisoned. We can't get out of the gate. Two murders and two travelers in the same part of town will be noticed. We have to back track and change our identities. I will be able to do that since I am carrying fine clothes. Ty has only the coarse clothing I gave her, except for her elf uniform.
"Ty," I say as I begin dragging her away from the scene, "I have to ask you to do something shameful. I need you to play the part of my servant. We need to get back to the main street and take lodging at an inn there. They probably won't be able to connect the two dead men with travelers of means. Will you do that?"
It is absolutely impossible to guess what she is thinking. Inscrutable only approximates her bearing. "You may change your clothes here," she says. "There are no people within two streets. As I routinely kill your game, clean it, cook it, and clean up afterwards, I see no substantial difference in pretending to be your servant."
I think she may be joking but as I say, inscrutable. I change into my best clothing and we make our way by circuitous route to the main street. We head for the well-lit Fine Life Inn. I listen at the door for signs of bustle. There is much less chance we'll be noticed in a crowded room. There isn't a lot of noise, but there is a small crowd.
"Open the door and stay behind me. Take my pack. Don't look at me, keep you head down," I tell her.
"Yes master," she says as she pulls the door open. She is clearly enjoying herself.
I stride in, head held high as if I were entering the high court of Berund. The room is richly appointed. Tapestries depicting hunting scenes adorn the walls. A thick red wool carpet covers the wood floor. The polished timbers supporting the structure are carved to appear as fluted stone columns. Rosettes covered in gold leaf are scattered about the ceiling. The fireplace is unusual. It is made of large blocks of polished black stone. The room must be scrubbed nightly as the smell of wood smoke is faint.
The house master hurries forward. He is wearing a suit more appropriate for a royal wedding party. "Good evening, good sir. How may we serve?" the porcine man chortles.
"A room with servant quarters. Bring a meal with ale to the room," I say displaying a slight bit of disdain. Rich people seem to disdain everything. I have spent a lot of time in their company and know their ways well.
"Will that be on the top floor?" It costs the man no more to house a guest on the top floor than it does the ground floor, but the rooms cost four times as much.
"Yes," I say without looking at the man. I hate spending that much money on a luxury, but this is a part we must get right.
"Very well! Very well indeed!" the excited man bubbles. He will be realizing a nice profit from this customer.
I continue to stare off into nothing while Ty stares at the floor. The house master regains control of his greed and calls the footboy.
The young man approaches with his chin on his chest and his hands clasped together. He nods in the direction of the staircase and I ascend. Ty and the boy follow. He is stealing glances at Ty but she is almost invisible underneath her cowl. We reach the third floor and I stop. The boy rushes down the short hall and opens a door. He steps aside and I stroll in.
The room is quite nice. It has its own privy, which my servant is supposed to clean. I don't believe we will be using it. The main bed is plush, the servant's bed is a straw-covered pallet. The young man bows his way out of the room and shuts the door.
"What is my master's bidding?" Ty says as she throws off the shift.
I reach for her and say, "Perhaps we will discuss your duties a little later." I wrap my arms around her narrow waist. The intoxicating smell of her makes my head swim. She is desire incarnate. As I am falling deeper into the well of her eyes, there is a knock at the door.
"Quick!" I say, "Put ... ", but she is already dressed. She opens the door. The waiter is holding the large tray with difficulty but Ty lifts it effortlessly. I toss him a rich coin before he can wonder at it too much.
The man gapes at the coin and stammers, "Thank you, good and generous sir." Ty shuts the door before the man gathers his wits. She begins setting out the meal and preparing the plates.
"Will you please stop acting like a servant?" I say in frustration.
"You requested I act as your servant. Now you request I stop. I am unable to follow the vagrancies of your whims and notions."
"I'll show you a whim and notion," I say as I grab her under the arms and whirl her onto the bed. She allows herself to fall flat on her back feigning shock.
"You shall suffer the fate that befalls insolent servants." I fall upon her and we tussle about.
At last she pins my arms to the bed. "I shall be required to limit your thralls if this is how you treat them."
"None are as impertinent as you."
"Since I have already transcended the bounds, then I see no reason to forestall."
We employ the soft bed to its limits.
Van pulled his head out from under the power control panel in the engine room. "Hey, Siln, try it now," he shouted.
Siln sat in the main cabin patiently putting up with Van's obsession over food unit modifications. She just hoped he didn't blow the thing up. It would be a long trip if they had nothing to eat but emergency rations. They sure named those things right, she thought, you would have to be near death to eat one of the stinking things. The putrid bags of slime would keep us alive for weeks but I'd lose the will to live after eating them for a couple of days.
"Ok, hold on. Supplement seven," she said into the air. Supplements one through six were awful. None of them were alcoholic. Van said the flavoroids were the hard part, making alcohol was easy. She wondered why every ship in the galaxy didn't have alcohol it if was so easy. She wondered how long he would keep it up.
Supplement seven appeared. It was greenish. That put Siln off a bit. She sniffed it. It didn't smell terrible. She took a small sip. "Hey! That's pretty good! What is it?" she yelled as she finished the cup.
"Crème d'Menthe," Van said as he got up. He pulled off another panel. He scooted into the compartment while Siln finished off a large cup of the green liquid in the crew cabin.
Some time passed. Siln was getting bored. "Okay," yelled Van. "Try number seven again."
This time Siln wasn't hesitant. She said, "Supplement number seven in a pint glass." The drink appeared. She took a drink without expecting much difference. The minty drink ran down her throat like liquid fire, the unmistakable aftertaste of alcohol shining through. "Holy crap!" she screamed. "You did it. I can't believe it." She drank down the big glass, her eyes watering from the burn. "Oh man. We are going to be rich," she said, already feeling the effects of the drink in her teeth.
Van walked into the crew cabin straitening his jumpsuit. "I'm already rich from exactly this same thing," he said. He ordered a glass of the beautiful number seven.
"Ok, then. I'm going to be rich." Siln ordered another big glass.
"You have control of all my money," Van said as he took stock of his creation. "Ok, I think I'll try beer next."
They had toasted every one they had ever known by the end of the night. Van woke up still seated at the table. He tried to move but the effort caused great pain. He let out a low moan.
"What's the matt..." Siln began to ask. She fell onto her side from her seat on the deck and let out a prolonged groan. "Oh, man. Why didn't you fix this part?"
"That's the one thing I could never do. If I can get some opiates out of this thing we'll be in good shape."
"You are just a regular addict, aren't you?"
"Oh, you ain't seen nothing yet. I haven't even started on the alkaloids."
"I'll settle for number seven, thanks. What else can you make?" she said as she struggled to right herself.
"Mint is easy, it's already defined in the processor. Making whiskey is a lot harder. There are a lot of components to whiskey. Vodka is the easiest. I can make fruit drinks. Fruit punch, gimlets, that kind of thing."
"I think I'm falling in love with you."
"Wait until the hundredth hangover and then say it."
"Hell, I'm getting started now." Siln pulled herself up with great effort. "Number seven," she said. She took a tentative sip, then gulped the drink down. She stood there gripping the glass tightly. "Oh yeah, much better. This is going to be a great flight."
Van and Siln spent a lot of time in conversation over the next several weeks. Drinking seemed to keep the persistent fugues Van experienced at bay. The weeks turned to months. Van spent his time trying to get something like beer out of the unit but the best he could manage was only somewhat like beer. But, since it was alcoholic, it was consumable. Van tinkered continually with the various information systems on the ship. The medical station was a wealth of materials. The complex molecular structures of the opiates and alkaloids that were the Holy Grail of his quest required a lot of research. He was closing in on final victory. He had been able to construct an acceptable carbon ring but now needed to jam a nitrogen atom into it somehow. Any number of alkaloids could be derived by messing with the nitrogen atom placement. The problem with the whole scheme was that none of the systems on the ship were designed to do that. On his old ship, morphine was considered to be an effective pain medication. The chemical library was full of things to play with. There was no such need in the world he now inhabited. Pain was treated or administered by brain stimulation. There were no molecular models he could use as a template. He was forced to assemble molecules atom by atom. It was a very laborious task. He could replicate billions of trillions if he ever succeeded in building one.
The days drug on as Van pried his way into various systems and Siln sampled the various drinks he made. Van was hunched over the medical unit while Siln lay draped across two chairs. They had been traveling for what seemed like an eternity. There were no landmarks in time, nothing happened. Boredom is the unrelenting foe of space travelers. People die of it, go mad from it. They lose their heart and soul to it. They become flat-eyed, devoid of passion, unable to feel anything. Siln had completed every possible maintenance procedure on the ship, none of which were necessary as the ship was brand new. She had diverted the ship through an asteroid belt just to shoot at something. She and Van had run numerous drills to sharpen their defensive capabilities. She took the runabout out and played with it. After every diversion the blanket of boredom began to smother them again. There was no avoiding it. They were going to have to take a break. Siln was familiar with the region of space they were traversing. She decided to get to a port.
"Hey, molecule man," she called to the prone figure under the weapons console.
"What?" came the reply.
"What are you doing under there? You better not mess up the weapons."
"I'm trying to do something like the rocket fuel blaster trick to alter a molecular bond."
"If you try to fire the main array inside the ship I will throw you out."
"No, no. Nothing like that. You won't even know it happened."
"I'm sick of being in this thing, I have to get to a port." Siln was seriously considering putting on a zero suit and going outside just for something to do. Space travel is a lot more exciting when someone was chasing you, she thought to herself.
"Ok, where?" Van said from under the console.
She thought about it for a time. She went to the navigation unit.
"Gamma Epsilon," she said. We can get there in a couple of weeks.
"Sounds good," Van said without knowing where Gamma Epsilon was, or even what it was.
Twelve days later they were descending into the atmosphere of Gamma Epsilon. Van thought the planet looked somewhat earth-like. There was a lot more water than on earth. There were large bodies of water with many small islands dotting the surface. White, puffy clouds covered much of the sky. Van remarked that it looked like a nice place.
"It may have been a nice place before it got screwed up," Siln said plainly as she navigated the atmosphere. "It went seriously to hell from pollution a hundred years ago. There used to be a lot more land. I think it's about done flooding. The ice caps are gone. All the stuff that messed it up is under water. All they do now is service ships on their way to the rest of Gamma. Things get pretty crowded."
Van watched the seascape go by thinking about all the people who had suffered through lost homes and businesses. Earth had been lucky, evidently. Pollution had been reduced before the flooding got out of hand. A few cities flooded but life went on. There were periodic famines. The animal and plant life had been seriously damaged. No one yet knew if things would recover when Van had left. That was three hundred years ago, Van remembered. Who knew what it was like now?
They descended quickly. Siln leveled out at ten thousand feet, and poked at the Comm. panel saying, "Non-fleet Caveat, identify."
"Register Caveat, identify," came the response.
Siln extended her arm over the console.
The Comm. panel responded, "Verified, identify."
Siln reached over and grabbed Van's arm. She pulled it over the panel.
The voice said, "Verified, identify."
"Complete," Siln said somewhat tentatively.
There was a slight pause. The voice said, "Heading, approach."
Siln was racing through the navigation panel screens trying to remember where Gamma Epsilon One was. She paused over a screen for a moment. "Two fifty by two fifty. Approach Gamma Epsilon One."
"Authorize." the voice said.
Siln slumped in the control seat visibly relieved.
"Why didn't you look that up before we got here?" Van asked accusingly.
Siln leveled a hard stare at him. "Because I thought I knew where it was. You bring it in if you think you can do better." She stood up and went to the food unit. She ordered a glass of Seven and took a big drink.
Siln leaned against the panel trying to calm herself. "Man, I can't get used to having credentials. The last time I came here I was ducking blaster fire. I put down in the bay and swam to shore. This is better."
Van felt bad about his remark. "I'm sorry, Siln. I don't know anything about what's going on. Uh, you do know I can't dock this thing, right?" They were descending rather quickly.
"Oh, don't worry. We got ten minutes at least." She went back to the control station and handed Van the half-finished glass of Seven. "Think about what you would do if you landed here with no credentials. No place to stay, no money, no friends, Forces after you every minute of every day. What would you do?"
Van felt the fear emanating from her. The memories were beating her back. She was shrinking into the control seat. "I honestly don't know, Siln. What did you do?"
"The same thing I did every day for ten years. I hid. I ate garbage. I looked for a place where people like me went. I scraped my way through with scams and dodges until I could get off the planet. Then I went to another one and did the same damn thing. How would you like that? That's why I was a little disorganized. I half expected to get blasted out of the sky."
Van watched Siln slump down, limp and vacant. He didn't know the first thing about her. How could he? How could he understand the isolation and fear. His prolonged space voyage had not been particularly fearful. Tortuous, maybe, but not fraught with mortal danger.
"Well, you have me now and as long as you do, you'll be safe," he said.
Siln roused up and straightened herself. She gave Van a sly, sideways look saying, "Yeah, you're a real catch alright." She let out a laugh.
"Okay, very funny. What are we going to do here?" he asked.
Siln was working the navigation panel more intently now. "We are going to get checked out, get some decent clothes, hit a pleasure parlor, and split."
"Pleasure parlor?" Van asked.
"Oh, yeah. You are going to like it," Siln exclaimed, shooting him an excited look. "I actually got into one once on Gamma Epsilon Three. They sure don't have a shortage of water here, you will be able to take a real shower. Maybe we can find you a nice, friendly girl. Hell, maybe one for me, too. Then we are going to eat real food and drink real booze." Seeing Van's hurt look, she said, "Hey! Seven is great! But we'll get all kinds of stuff here. Maybe you can get some samples to work with."
It was a bit much for Van to take in. The girl part interested him. "Alright, I'll just follow you around."
Siln dropped to about two-hundred feet and slowed as they flew over land. She dropped another hundred feet and slowed to a crawl. The maw of a cavernous landing bay loomed ahead. Siln entered ten feet above the deck. She landed with an almost imperceptible bump.
"Sit tight while I say hello."
A group of ten men approached the ship. Siln dropped the forward passenger ramp at the rear of the crew cabin. The men stopped with weapons readied.
"Siln During and Van Ellen request debark." Siln's voice was even and confidant.
Van couldn't see the men but Siln turned around and waved him out. The troops flanked the ramp with arms at rest. Van looked at them, curious about their uniforms and weapons.
Siln spoke in a hushed voice. "Look straight ahead and walk."
Van followed Siln's lead as they exited the monstrous bay, she turned to him and said, "Don't look at them. That's like a challenge. They get spooked easy. That's bad."
"What were they?"
"Forces. They're everywhere. Just try to do what I do."
They walked through several long corridors. They approached a large, reinforced double-door. Siln stopped ten feet short of the door.
"This will be bright. You are used to ship lighting which is a lot dimmer than daylight. Squint," Siln said.
They walked forward. The door slid open silently. Van was practically pushed over by the intense light. Siln grabbed his arm and led him down a bustling street for several blocks. Van eventually opened his eyes. He realized he had never been outside on Lambda One. He had not been outside for three hundred years. He looked up and was overwhelmed by vertigo. He began stumbling and Siln grabbed his arm.
"Hey!" she shouted, "No trips to dream land while we're here."
"I'm sorry. I just realized I haven't been outside since I landed."
"Really? What did they do, keep you in a cage?"
"Pretty much."
"Okay, take it easy. There's a lodging unit just up there."
Van looked up the street but couldn't make out the lodging unit amidst the signs and traffic. Even though the gliders were silent, the street was calamitous. The activity was dizzying. People rushed by with looks of worry or concentration, some laughing, all with a purpose. Van considered his purpose. He had no purpose. His function in society was decorative. He laughed at the thought. Siln gave his arm a sharp jerk and looked at him. She's worried I'll drift off, he thought. That's all I am, he thought, a worry, a concern. What is a life without a purpose? He worried that he might never have a purpose again. A passer by bumped into him and apologized over his shoulder as he rushed along his way. All I am is a lump for people to trip over, he thought as he fell deeper into gloom. He had set out upon his journey to further mankind's progress and had become a burden instead.
Van lurched from side to side as Siln ushered him forward. She led him to a building that rose into the sky and out of sight. Entering all of Van's dreary thoughts were dispelled in an instant. He was struck dumb at the sight of the sumptuous interior.
Columns of green crystal rose from the floor to the ceiling far above them. Lights suspended in midair sparkled like diamonds. Rich diamond glass flooring of swirling ocean waves spread across the room. Delicate glowing silhouettes of sea creatures seemed to swim slowly across the floor. Thick drapes with drifting clouds of white and grey covered the walls.
Van was still gaping at the surroundings as Siln approached the desk. Holographic art work danced about the room in the space above their heads. Expansive vistas of stunning landscapes, renderings of masterful paintings, wild animals that seemed to charge into nothingness, the effect was breathtaking.
"One luxury suite," Siln said to the aloof desk clerk. She held out her arm and then pulled Van's arm over the desk. "Wake up," she whispered hoarsely.
The clerk hesitated, apparently baffled by the two shabby customers in common jumpsuits. Siln cocked an eye at her making the clerk snap out of her confused state. She quickly handed Siln a block of metal.
"Three-hundred-twenty," she said.
Siln shoved the block back to the clerk and said, "One."
The clerk was obviously conflicted about the statement.
Siln leveled a hard stare at the woman and said, "Check the financials."
The woman punched through several screens and gasped. She quickly reached under counter and produced another block. "Two-hundred-one, Ms. During," she said with a smile.
Siln held her with a pointed look until the clerk began to squirm. She took the block and said, "Thank you."
Siln pulled Van towards the lift, "I hope we don't have to go through that crap every time we want something. We have to get new clothes." Van was staring at the holographs with his mouth open. She was afraid he might start drooling and gave his arm another sharp jerk, hissing through clenched teeth, "Will you try to stay conscious for one more minute."
The walls of the lift were transparent. They seemed to float weightlessly through the ceiling, rising through the structure with no sensation of movement. The lift stopped and Siln stepped out into the richly-carpeted hall, walked to the end of the hall dragging Van behind and stopped before a door emblazoned with a big red one. She held up the metal block and said, "Say hello to your money."
She opened the door. Van had never been in a room such as the one before him. The entire wall opposite the door was diamond glass. The expansive window looked out over the city, with a large bay glistened in the distance. A pool of heated water recessed into the pristine white carpet nestled in front of the window. Sumptuous circular seating areas encircling the back of the pool were recessed into the floor. Every fixture, every recess, every decoration was tastefully rich. Not ostentatious, but glowing with the aura of wealth. Several chairs rose up from the floor when Siln put her hand over an embossed icon on the wall. Their cloud-like appearance lured Van in and. He fell into one and was buoyed by the comforting softness. A hallway to the left held several doors that Van assumed were bedrooms and a bathroom. Holographic artwork floated throughout the room. A holographic figure dressed as a waiter approached them.
"Ms. During and Mr. Ellen, I do hope the inconvenience at our front desk will be forgiven. Our clerk's unforgivable manners have resulted in her termination."
Siln was horrified. There were places where termination was a euphemism for a death sentence. "Oh no, please! It was just a mistake. Please don't terminate her, we would regret it deeply." That was a euphemism for we'll go someplace else.
The hologram said, "As you wish. How may we serve?"
Siln thought about it. "Bring us two of the most expensive meals you have and a box of Gamma Beta Three ale."
"Our pleasure," the hologram responded and it retreated to the corner.
Siln stripped off her clothes and got into the bath.
Van paid little attention to Siln's naked form. He had seen Siln naked more often than he had seen all the women he knew put together. Van undressed and stepped into the soothing, warm water.
A bell sounded. "Come in," Siln shouted.
A smartly dressed young man entered and froze when he saw the two figures in the tub. Van turned and saw the shocked look on the young man's face.
Van was embarrassed for the young man who stood blushing just inside the open door. "Give him something, Siln," Van said.
"What's your name?" Siln asked without turning around.
"Hastings, Ms. During."
"Authorize one-hundred commons, Hastings," she spoke into the air.
"Confirm one-hundred commons Hastings," the room intercom answered.
"Confirm," Siln said. "Put the food on the table behind us."
The waiter was stunned. One hundred commons was more than he had made in the last month. He was unable to move.
"If you are waiting for an invitation to get in the tub with us, you will have to walk around where I can get a good look at you." She glanced at Van with an impish grin on her face.
"Oh, no, Ms. During. I mean, no thank you. Thank you. Thank you." He deposited the tray on the table and backed out of the room, bowing and thanking all the way.
Siln began laughing as she got out of the tub. "Man, being rich is fun. I saw his reflection in the window. He almost fell over when I gave him a hundred."
"Is that a lot?" Van asked.
"Oh yeah, that's a lot. He's probably never gotten a tip that big. That's probably more than anyone here has ever gotten." Siln was still chuckling as she brought the large tray around to the front of the bath and set it on the floor.
He looked at the plate of food. The dinner was fish and vegetables. There was a desert tray with nicely decorated crèmes, a pie, and some kind of pastry. A square box wrapped in gold foil sat on the tray. Van began picking at the food. That was when he realized he had not eaten any real food for three-hundred years. He leaned forward in the tub, exposing his rear end, and set upon devouring the plate of food.
"That's not your best side," Siln said as she did the same thing.
They ate the entire meal, including all the deserts. Van collapsed back into the water as he finished the last of the pie. He caused a wave that sent the water sloshing out onto the carpet. Siln was still leaning over her plate with her bottom up in the air. "I'm afraid that is your best side," he said to Siln.
"Screw you," she said through a mouthful of pie. She pulled the gold box into the tub. Van looked at her perplexed. She said, "You are going to love this stuff. We need to take a bottle back to the ship so you can duplicate it." She unwrapped the gold foil box carefully. She took two brown bottles out and handed one to Van. "Press the top down, like this." She demonstrated how to open the bottle and she took a big drink. "Oh, I never thought I would see this stuff again."
Van opened his bottle and took a sip. It was very fine ale. Light yet full flavored. Delicately carbonated. A multitude of flavors came forth. Aged wood, dark grain, fresh hops. It was all there, all the best of all ales. He tipped the bottle up and drained it.
"Jeemany! Do you always hit everything as hard as you can before you know what it does?" Siln asked in disbelief.
"Why?" Van was feeling a little woozy.
"Get out of the tub before you drown, I won't be able to lift you."
Van couldn't process what Siln had said. Something about get out. He tried to obey but got high-centered on the edge and was unable to move.
"Close enough," Siln said. She got out of the tub. Her body sagged as if disappointed about leaving the water. Siln grabbed the stylish drying wand from its round container set into the floor and starting waving it across her body. When she was dry, she walked to the window and said, "Service."
The holographic butler approached.
"Display clothing, women's." A display of various pieces and styles of clothing appeared in front of her. "Size," she said. A red beam swept down her from head to toe.
"Size confirmed," the butler said.
The screen began displaying garments. She put her finger through the image when something caught her eye. She picked out a couple of outfits and said, "Something loose and conservative for zombie man over there."
A red beam scanned Van. "Size not verified," the butler said.
"Well, give it you best guess."
The butler hesitated. It said, "Fees may reflect custom fitting."
"I don't care how much it cost, just get it up here." She was really enjoying the rich thing.
"Right away, Ms. During." The butler returned to the corner and was silent.
Siln sat naked on the couch enjoying creature comforts of a sort she had never experienced before. A half an hour later the door bell rang.
"Come in," she shouted, suddenly realizing she probably didn't have to shout.
Three room service attendants entered holding four pieces of clothing each.
"Word really gets around, doesn't it?" silently laughing at the anxious, expectant attendants.
"Yes, Ms. During," the young woman chirped.
"Alright, but after this I'm done with the tip thing," she said. "Authorize one-hundred commons, Hastings."
"Confirm one-hundred commons Hastings," the intercom said. Hastings beamed almost to bursting.
"Confirm. Confirm one-hundred commons," Siln said and pointed to the next waited.
"Enyard," the young woman said, too excited to stand still.
Siln confirmed the transaction. She went through the same process for the last waiter and told them not to triple-team her again.
"Oh, no, Ms During!" Hastings said with an impossibly big grin.
"Okay, then. Give me the stuff and beat it." The waiters walked to the couch trying quite obviously to not notice she was naked. They piled the clothes onto Siln's opened arms and beat a hasty retreat. She had looked into Van's finances some time ago. The investments made in his behalf were paying off nicely. In fact, Van was the richest person she had ever met. He could easily afford four-hundred commons for the kids. Anyway, it was great fun.
She turned to see if Van had recovered from his drunken stupor. His eyes were open but were blank and unfocused. His tongue was hanging out of the side of his mouth. He was not asleep. It was no use trying to rouse him, he was somewhere far away.
She clutched her handbag to her chest as she panted in the darkness. The biting breeze that moaned through the alleyway clawed through her sheer camisole. Her low-heel pumps made too much noise and were to slick on the wet pavement. She had nearly fallen twice already during her mad escape from the two men chasing her. She took them off and carefully hid them under a large sheet of cardboard. She breathed through her open mouth, trying to make as little noise as possible The rough, broken cement was cold under her feet Her coat was too tight for running. She had shed it earlier and it had been spotted by one of the suited men. She was not going to make that same mistake with her shoes. She had had to double back and throw them off her trail. She could see them at the end of the next block searching the crevices and dark corners of the dim street.
She was dressed entirely in black now that the red coat had been shed. The alley she had taken refuge in was too dark and littered to pass through quietly. She made a desperate decision. The street was dark. She edged out of the alley and away from the men. Her bare feet were quiet. One of the men looked in her direction. She froze. He turned back to the doorways he was searching and she edged her way on. The next alley she came to was worse than the one before. The two men turned a street corner at the end of the block. She continued moving cautiously, any noise might draw their attention. She turned the corner on the next street and began quietly trotting down street.
This part of town was unfamiliar to her. Her haunts were up the hill in the civilized estates nestled among the trees. She could not reach them on foot and she would not risk driving her bullet-ridden car. She stopped and checked her purse for change. Thank God she had the presence of mind to take it with her. She would not use her credit card to make a call; they might be able to track it. She had no idea of who was trying to kill her or why. She worried that her husband might be dead. She found a quarter in her purse and clutched it to her chest as if in prayer. She had to find a phone. It couldn't be on the street. It couldn't be in front of a well-lit convenience store. A bar, she had to find a bar. She ran quietly down the street until lights in the distance held a promise. Picking up her speed, she ran into a bar and looked out the door to see if she had been spotted. Satisfied she had not been seen, she turned to look for a phone. The room was almost full with working-class men, the sort of which she never spoke to. All eyes were focused on her. Her face flushed. They could easily identify her if they were questioned.
She tried to act casual as she walked to the bar and asked the bartender if there was a phone. He gave her a flat stare and pointed to the back of the room. She straightened her clothing and walked past the leering men. The phone was located near the restrooms. The odor was repulsive. She picked up the receiver wondering what sort of foul creature had used it before her. There was no time for squeamishness. She called Clara.
"Hello," answered a young girl.
"Hello Nancy, is your mother home?" She tried to keep her voice even but she was shaking and so was her voice.
"Mom! It's for you," the young girl shouted with her mouth too close to the handset.
"Hello," Clara answered sounding frustrated.
"Clara, it's Jackie," she whispered though the low rumple of the bar.
"We can't talk. Go to the hotty hotel." There was a click and the line went dead.
She knew where the hotty hotel was. They both used it for their clandestine liaisons and cheap romances. It was several miles away. She turned to the bar patrons. They had mostly forgotten her and had returned to their rough conversations. She was desperate. She had to have a ride. Cab logs could be checked and it might take a dangerously long time for one to arrive. She worked up her nerve and walked to the crowd.
"I require a ride. Would one of you gentlemen be willing to help me?"
There were a few light chuckles from round the room.
"What's the pay?" one of them asked from the deep shadows that infested every corner of the room.
She opened up her purse. She never carried money, she had no need. She had accounts everywhere she shopped. She unearthed a crumpled twenty dollar bill.
"Twenty dollars," she said desperately hoping someone would accept it.
"Oh, baby," said a short man with a pot-marked face standing at the bar. "You are gunna' have to do a lot better that that."
The room erupted into coarse laughter. She tried to keep a straight face but couldn't stop from trembling. The bill she held in her gloved hand shook like a leaf.
"Hey I'll do it. I need twenty bucks," a lanky young man said as he stepped forward. His greasy collar-length hair fell across his face in tattered spikes. A cigarette dangled from the corner of his mouth. He snatched the bill out of her hand and said, "Let's go."
Calls of "Yeah baby, let's go", and "I'll give you twenty bucks if you give me a ride," flew through the room accompanied by laughter and cat calls. She hurried out of the room following the hunched figure in the tattered plaid workman's shirt. He rounded the corner of a dented and rusting sub compact. He said, "Get in." The broken car seat tore at her hosiery.
"Where the hell are your shoes?" the man said without looking at her.
"In my boyfriend's house. His wife came home," she lied.
"Busted, huh."
"It happens."
"Happen a lot?"
She regretted having started this line of conversation. "I need to go to the waterfront."
"Anyplace special?"
"Anywhere near the wharf."
"What? Are you working it?"
"No, I'm meeting my boyfriend."
The young man didn't say anything. She hoped that was enough to discourage him.
He pulled over to the curb. "This is where you get out."
She was five blocks from the waterfront. She didn't want to argue the point so she opened the door and walked away without shutting it.
"Bitch," the man said as he slammed the door and sped away.
When his car was out of sight she ducked for the shadows. The quality of the neighborhood improved as she neared the bay. She slowed when she got within a block of the Fountain Hotel, otherwise known as the hotty hotel. Fear and uncertainty held her back. The hotel might be watched, she went there several times a month. Maybe they knew about her dalliances. She searched for another phone and then remembered she had no money. Uncertainty and fear were dragging her down. She collapsed against a cold, brick wall and slid to the ground. Her past began to swirl around her head as she sat crumpled on the ground, eyes unfocused. Everything had been so normal just earlier this evening.
Her husband had sat hunched over a pile of papers at his beautiful antique desk. His office was rich, subdued. It was the nicest room in the house. Sitting as he was, his prominent bald spot shone in the muted light of the brass desk lamp. He was not the same man she had married. He had developed a paunch, he drank too much, he yelled at her. She found she preferred the company of younger, better looking men. They were aplenty at the club houses and private gardens she frequented. If her husband knew about it, he didn't care. He was too busy to care about her. His voice rose as he shouted into the phone.
"A stock margin call! What do you mean a call? On what?" he yelled. "Well, how much?" He looked worried. "What", he said through clenched teeth. "Jesus Christ, I can't make that. How long?" He stood up abruptly. "Okay, alright, give me a few hours. I can leverage the stock." He paused. "I don't give a damn what the board thinks, just give me some time to come up with it." He sat at his desk with his head in his hands. He jerked upright and shoved his chair back hard. He walked to the back of the room and searched a row of filing cabinets. He opened a filing cabinet and jerked out a folder. He scanned the papers and then gave her a chilling look.
She felt uneasy. The look on his face was strange. It was impersonal, as if he were appraising her. The look made her angry. She was nothing but an object to him, a possession.
"Maybe you should go out for awhile," he said. "I've got an emergency to deal with. I need some privacy."
She thought it odd. He completely ignored her, how could she be distracting? She didn't want to be there anyway. She grabbed her purse and the waist coat with the gold brocade. He watched her leave the room. It was creepy. She was glad to leave.
"Hey," he said, running to catch up to her, "Where are you going?"
The question took her aback. He never cared where she went. His question ruled out the hotty hotel, as she and her lascivious friends called their hideaway. "I don't know. Why?"
He reddened. He started to yell, but then stopped himself. "Can't a man ask where his wife is going? I'm just curious." The strain of keeping an even tone was belied by his red face and the prominent veins that had appeared on his forehead.
It was a very strange. "I don't know, the club I suppose."
He knitted his brow in thought. "The club. Okay. Good deal." He turned around without another word.
He hurried back to his desk. He jerked the receiver off the desk telephone and began thumbing through his card file. He stopped to see if she was gone. "Bye, Bye, sweetheart," he said, and he watched her until she walked out the door.
She was glad to be free of him and his obnoxious behavior. He was bad enough when he ignored her. Tonight had been unbearable. She walked out the back door and found his behemoth Town Car blocking her plain little sedan. Her car was embarrassing, it was plain and pedestrian. She had wanted a sports car but he had said no. She decided she would take his car to the club, he wasn't going anywhere.
The club was almost deserted. She went to the bar and ordered a gin martini. Soft music came from the speakers above her head. The bartender was not interested in conversation. She sat idly sipping at her drink. She ordered another and tried to enjoy herself in the abandoned bar. A stranger rushed into the lounge. He scanned the room quickly and took off his hat when he saw her. He smiled lightly and walked up to her.
"Hello," he said. "My name is Bill Jones, may I join you?"
He was interesting enough for an off night. His face and hands were heavily creased, but his suit was immaculate and expensive. "Of course," she said, "Please do. My name is Jackie Farnsworth." She offered her hand.
He gently took her hand and said, "Very nice to meet you." He glanced at his very fine gold watch. "Oh, my," he said in surprise. "I have to make a short phone call, please excuse me." He walked out of the bar and returned a short time later.
They chatted pleasantly for an hour. The man kept checking his watch. At precisely ten o'clock, he rose and excused himself saying that he had another commitment. She was sorry to see him go. He had been an engaging companion. She considered having another drink but decided to go home. She turned the big black sedan around in the parking lot and began the familiar drive back home. She was not thinking of anything in particular as the dark street rolled by. Two men stepped out into the road. She had to slam on the brakes to avoid running them down. They raised pistols and began firing at the windshield. She was horrified but the bullets didn't break the windshield. She remember in a flash that her paranoid husband had bullet-proofed the car. The bullets left angry scars on the bullet-proof windshield. One man rushed at her. She screamed and fumbled to get the car into reverse. She found reverse just as the man leveled the gun at her head through the side window. She turned the wheel as the tires screeched and the car lurched backwards. The man was knocked over. She put the car into drive and tried to run the other man down. He sidestepped the car and raised his gun as she passed. She heard the sharp sounds of bullets hitting the rear window as she sped away.
She had no thought except to get home where she would be safe. She careened through the streets, squealing the tires and narrowly missing parked cars. She scraped the bottom of the car hard when she hit the driveway. She rounded the corner of the circular driveway and saw two black cars. The men leaning on the cars threw down their cigarettes and jumped into their cars as she approached. The situation was unreal. She couldn't react. One of the cars rammed the front of her car hard. She was badly shaken but not injured. The steel reinforcing had stopped the other car from causing damage. She wheeled drunkenly down the driveway and crashed into the front of another black car speeding to cut her off. The impact crushed the front of the other car. She stomped the gas pedal to the floor and flew down the mountain not caring how many cars she hit. There were no cars behind her when she reached the outskirts of the business district. That is when she realized she had a flat tire. She decided to ditch the car and hide while there were no men in sight. The chase had brought her to the edge of the bay just around the corner from the hotty hotel.
Now she sat against the brick wall looking like a mannequin that had been tossed out onto the street. Arms and legs askew, dress hiked up, she was numb from shock and fear. She began to rouse herself. The motel was just around the corner. She was just edging her way around the corner when she heard a woman screaming. The woman screamed "No, no, I don't know her. I don't know where she is." The muffled sounds of a struggle could be heard. Then, "Yes, she's coming here, please stop. Please..." and then a booming gunshot. Her heart froze. She heard the sound of footsteps running in her direction. She bolted for the darkness that enveloped the street behind her.
I am to buy a horse. Elves do not exchange currency and I have absolutely no experience with it. He has instructed me on how to proceed so now I am standing amidst a stable of thoroughly miserable horses. I would free them if I was able, but I am not.
He wanted me to buy two horses, one for me to ride. I assured him I can easily out-distance any horse. He relented. I would not have ridden a horse without its permission anyway, and these horses are not so inclined.
I am unsure as to what to do. A disagreeable human who smells quite bad approaches.
"What do you want?" he growls.
I would kill him where he stands if our situation was not so tenuous. I tell him I wish to procure a horse. I am to wait until he has shown me a horse and has stated a price. I am to say the horse offered is deficient and the price too high. I am to repeat these actions until he has offered something acceptable. It seems a bit much for a simple transaction, but the "master" assures me it is necessary.
The stable master sizes me up, obviously trying to determine how much I know about horses. I know everything about horses, it is the procurement that is troubling. He walks to an animal that is in abject misery due to an infection in its right rear hoof.
"I will sell you this beautiful mare for ten dal!" he says as if offering me a prized animal.
I reply, "That animal will be dead in two weeks if you do not tend to her infected foot."
The man is taken aback. He regards me openly as he tries once again to size me up. He continues his assessment as he walks to another horse.
"I can see you are a fine judge of horse flesh. Perhaps this fine filly is more to your liking?"
"Perhaps. She has no defects aside from her age. What is your price?"
He weighs the factors, the effort playing across his face. He is so transparent that he may as well speak what he is thinking. He decides to err on the high side.
"Twelve dal."
"Eight." I am already wearying of the game.
"Eleven! She is the finest in the stable!"
"Nine or I shall leave." I would rather walk away than continue bantering with this objectionable man.
"Ten. She is a fine bargain at that." he says.
I turn to leave hoping he will say nothing further.
"Okay! Okay! Nine. You are taking the food from my children's mouths."
"With a saddle," I remember.
"With a saddle! I will not part with this horse and a saddle for nine dal!"
The man is in real distress. I have wounded him where he is most vulnerable. It was not my intention to cause him distress. I must make amends, for even this base creature deserves fair treatment.
"I apologize. It was my error in not stating at the onset that I required a saddle. Will you accept eleven dal for both."
The man brightens immediately.
"Yes, and I thank you for your generous offer." He is genuinely happy.
I lead the horse to the inn after a happy conclusion to the transaction. I explain to the horse where we will be traveling and what her duties will be. She is relieved to be free of the stable and pleased to have a traveling companion who speaks horse. I hand her over to the stable boy who accepts her while attempting to get a glimpse of my face. I am successful in avoiding his gaze. I go to the rear of the inn and pass a group of four maids.
"'Twas a bit of a tussle in your room last night," says the older, heavier of the group.
I do not want to arouse suspicion so I engage them in conversation. They seem to be merely curious with no thoughts of malice.
"The master is a very passionate man," I reply softly while keeping my head down.
"Oh, my dear. You aren't the first servant to be so used." The others in the group adopt sympathetic expressions and nod in agreement.
"He is a good master and has treated me well."
"That's as much as can be hoped for, I'm afraid. I hope your luck continues if your fortunes should change."
I believe she is referring to pregnancy. Elves become pregnant when they want to. I do not yet understand all the issues surrounding human pregnancy. I am at a bit of a loss as to how to reply, so I opt for a simple, trite answer.
"Thank you," I say.
They part to allow my passing. I mount the stairs and enter the room. He is pacing with a worried look.
"Good! You're back. We must depart. Word of the killings last night is spreading."
We gather our things and descend to the main room. The house master is talking to a uniformed man.
"It must have been a fell warrior to take them both. And each with an arrow in his eye. There will be no easy sleep until the mystery is solved, I say. Bad for business. Very bad indeed."
I approach the man with my face covered by my hood, and wait for him to take notice of me.
"My master and I shall depart. What is the cost?" I think I should have said 'price'.
The house master is performing much the same calculation that the stable master did. This time, the man believes he has the advantage because of the presence of the uniformed man.
"Five dal," he says mater-of-factly.
I look at my master. He has turned to face the inn master with one eye cocked.
The inn master reddens.
"You didn't stable any animals, did you? Please forgive my mistake four and a half dal."
I am given the coin and pay the house master with it.
"Thank you, good sir! We look forward to your return."
I walk to the stable and retrieve our horse. My mate mounts the horse and we walk slowly out of the town without a second look.
We follow the road until there are none to see us, and then make for the hills to the west. The arid Sawd plain gives way to rising hills lush with grass. We don't stop for two days. At last both he and the horse must rest. We camp along side a bubbling stream in a pleasant glade. The horse is not happy. She wasn't pleased about the two-day march. I assure her things would improve after this. She is understandably skeptical but reserves judgment.
"What are you doing with that horse," he asks.
"Assuring her we do not usually march for days on end without rest. She requires healing due to her imprisonment in the stable."
"Imprisonment? Are you talking to it?"
"Yes. Her name is not pronounceable in English, but you may call her Tolin. That was what her last human master called her before he was murdered. She was stolen and sold to the stable."
"You can talk to horses?" He is incredulous.
"Talking to horses is easier than talking to you," which is the truth. Humans can be most perplexing. "She would like to know where we are going."
"So would I," he says in typical human fashion. If neither he nor the horse knew, then I would decide a course.
"We are going to Anore, the hidden realm of the elves."
He is struck dumb. The horse is relieved.
"We are going to the land of the elves?" It is clear he had not considered that choice.
"We are fugitives. Our best course is to go where no human would ever find us."
"But," he says as he struggles to form a question, "will they allow me to enter?"
"Yes." The better question is whether they will allow me to enter.
"How long will we stay?"
"Forever. Forever for you."
"Forever? We have to stay there forever? Why..." He cannot finish the thought.
"Humans have entered the realm from time to time. Allowing them to leave would present an unacceptable risk. They are kept within the borders, and kept very well, I might add."
He cannot speak. He is as transparent as any man. I can see the emotions wash across his face. He is thinking about the cost of abandoning everything he knows and loves.
"What exactly are you leaving behind?" I ask. He is too upset to consider that I have read his thoughts, an ability I keep hidden from him. It would make him uncomfortable.
"Give up? Everything. I would be giving up everything I know."
"Let us examine a few of the things you would be giving up. A life of perpetual flight. Uncomfortable nights and fearful days. The eventual capture and gruesome death. This doesn't seem too much to sacrifice. We can reach the border in a fortnight.
He is resisting the notion but slowly crumbling. At last he relents.
"Oh, alright. There are worse fates than abiding for ever in the legendary land of perpetual spring."
"We allow it to rain."
"It rains in the spring."
"We sometimes allow it to snow."
"May we just eat in peace, please?"
He invariably loses these debates. I don't know why he persists. That is one of the things I love about him. He and the horse sleep while I keep guard. I don't believe there are any humans within a day's hard ride, but he will be relieved to know I have guarded the camp all night. They awaken and we take a quick meal. He is anxious to move on. I don't tell him that we are not being pursued. I believe our course is the proper one. He might change his mind if he knew we were safe. He sometimes denies the obvious. I find it endearing. The trip to Anore is made in haste. I do not want him to doubt our present course just because he feels safe. He will never be safe again in the human world. The horse is disappointed. She had hoped we would be proceeding at a more leisurely pace. We finally reach the border after a largely uneventful journey.
When we reach the border, I stand awaiting the pronouncement that will determine his fate and mine. I am apprehensive, a very un-elf-like emotion, but still I wait. The border guards knew of our coming some time ago. The elves who are just out of sight await an explanation of our coming. I tell them our tale in words that cannot be heard, and that my love will not be safe unless we are allowed to enter. This seems to heighten the debate, and I am now openly afraid.
Van rolled over and slipped into the pool. Siln raced to grab his head but he surfaced, groaning.
"What happened? Where am I?" he said as he hung on to the rim on the tub.
Siln was more than a little disgusted. "That stuff hits you harder the faster you drink it. When you slammed down the whole bottle, you got all the goods all at once. Ask me before you eat or drink anything, Okay? If you die, I will be the one who killed you."
Van didn't get the joke. He was still trying to haul himself out of the tub. "How long was I out?"
"Not long. An hour, maybe."
"That's not too bad. Actually, I think that's short enough to be a new record for me." Van walked over to the bath closet and retrieved a towel. He preferred the tactile sensation of drying off with a towel rather than the sterile drying wands. "What's that stuff?" he asked.
"This is a suit for you," she said tossing him the clothes. "Try it on."
Van held the silky pants up to the light. "No underwear?" he asked.
"You haven't worn underwear for years! Just put the damn thing on." Siln dressed slowly, savoring the fine material and good fit. The tight-fitting stretch suits of her past held no appeal. They were a symbol of the necessities and compromises she had lived with for the last ten years. She shed her old clothes, but the past would not be as easily dismissed. The clothes she held were a new skin, a disguise. A creature of the dark still lived underneath. Siln wondered if she would ever make the change.
"That doesn't mean I wouldn't like to," Van whined. "Order me some underwear."
"Order it yourself. What am I, your damned nursemaid?"
"Yes," Van replied with a grin.
"Just go over there and tell the thing you want some underwear." Siln admired herself in the mirror. She had never felt so beautiful. "Wow," she said under her breath.
Van walked across the room still naked. "Uh, I need underwear?" He didn't know what to expect.
The butler said, "Certainly, sir."
He was startled by a red beam that swept down his length. A display of underwear appeared before him. Most of the garments were completely unfamiliar to him. He said, "Do you have any 22nd century Earth boxer shorts?"
"Alpha One," Siln shouted from the bathroom down the hall.
"Oh, yeah. Alpha One 22nd century boxer shorts, please."
The butler stood motionless for a good twenty seconds. A display of boxer shorts appeared.
"I like those," Van said pointing at the screen.
"Please touch the garment selected," the butler said.
Van put his finger through the image displayed before him.
"Fees may reflect custom fitting," the butler said.
"What does that mean, Siln?" he shouted down the hall.
Siln walked out of the bathroom saying "Where do you think I am, next door? What are you yelling about?"
Van was struck dumb. Siln had been transformed. She no longer looked drawn. Her face was clear, her expression bright. She looked wonderful in the clothes she had selected. "Wow," he said. "You look great."
"Think I can land us a date?" she said as she lifted her arms and turned for his inspection.
The butler repeated "Fees may reflect custom fitting."
Siln turned to the butler and said, "Will you please stop saying that. Just bring the underwear."
"Certainly, Ms. During." The image spun on its heel and retreated to the corner.
"Hey, come here. I want to show you something," Siln said excitedly as she hurried to the bathroom.
Van followed her wondering what could be so interesting.
Siln grabbed a shining rod off a hanger on the wall and said, "Give me your hand."
Van hesitated. The sight of Siln holding a metal rod suggested caution was advisable.
"Just give me your hand, I'm not going to hurt you." She took Van's hand and waved the metal rod over it. A warm, yellow light swept across his fingers, the wrinkles over his knuckles disappearing as it went.
Van jerked his hand away. When he realized it hadn't hurt, he looked at the back of his hand. There were no wrinkles on half of his hand.
"That's why all these people look so good, they all have these things. Look at my face", she said, jutting her chin forward.
Her skin was perfect. None of the little scars she had garnered during her rough life remained. She held the wand up to his face and said, "Here, let me do you."
Van had quite enough of transformative technology when he had changed himself into an invalid. He started to back away. Siln grabbed his shirt and jerked him up against her chest. She waved the wand across his face while he struggled and squirmed. He almost fell when she let go.
"Okay, look at yourself," she said.
Van turned to the mirror. He faced a much younger version of himself. He looked as he had when he had proudly entered his space ship and taken to the sky.
"It would be hard to get a date with you looking a hundred years old," Siln said.
"I'm three hundred and fifty years old", Van said as he inspected his new face. He picked up the wand and said, "I wonder if these things will work on corn cells? That would speed the breakdown of sugars for fermentation."
Siln stared at Van behind his back shaking her head, and left the bathroom muttering to herself.
The underwear was eventually delivered. Siln tipped Hastings thirty commons. Van dressed feeling weird about the suit. Siln told him to relax; he looked like every other business man on the street. They descended to the lobby. All the staff turned to stare at them. Siln laughed to herself. They must think we're really loaded, she thought. Then she remembered that they were.
A door man raced to open the door for them. Siln told Van to tip him. Van didn't know how much so he reached into his pocket and dropped a handful of coins into the man's hand. The doorman's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. Siln couldn't suppress a laugh. Van had given him at least twenty commons, an insanely big tip for a doorman. People would be falling over each other to wait on them if they kept it up.
They exited the lodging unit and stepped out onto the busy street. Van was overwhelmed. Siln noticed a few men looking her over. It felt good to be ogled because she looked fine and for no other reason. She took Van's arm and led him into the shopping district. Siln went in and out of stores ordering clothes, makeup, luggage, grooming items, and jewelry. She had them all delivered to the lodging unit. She gave the sales clerk at each store a nice tip and laughed every time they gaped at her in disbelief.
"You hungry?" she asked Van.
"I'm not going to eat for three days after that orgy in the room," he replied.
"Yeah, me either. You want to go to a parlor?"
"What's a parlor?"
"It's like a bar but they have more kinds of stuff. You'll like it."
"Well, sure then, let's go."
Siln walked up to a holo kiosk. She poked at the images and then took his arm and started walking away from the business district. The tall buildings fell behind. The street broadened into a trim boulevard. Ahead of them was a blockish building, plain but well kept. Siln took Van aside, saying "You stick with me. Don't go wandering off. This place is safe enough but I don't want you getting tied up with anything you don't understand, Okay?"
Van believed he probably wouldn't understand anything about a parlor. He told Siln he would stick to her like dried Seven. She laughed at the joke. Supplement seven was the stickiest thing in the universe if it had been spilled and then left to dry.
The stopped n front a door, which Van assumed was the parlor in question and they entered. The interior reminded Van of a carnival. Colored lights wheeled around the ceiling, booths around the walls with mild-mannered barkers hawking their wares. Van could only guess at what they were selling. A kaleidoscope of aromas that Van could not identify swirled through the air. Bits of conversation and laughing drifted across the room. Smiling men and women formed small knots. Siln walked up to a booth and spoke to the man. He produced two large glasses of blue liquid which Siln carried to a vacant table.
She handed Van a glass saying "This is horst. It won't get you drunk, it just smoothes everything out. We'll start out slow and then you can get mashed and fall on the floor." She held up her glass.
"Here, here," answered Van as he touched his glass to hers.
The drink was slightly sweet but tangy. It had a refreshing aftertaste. "Hey, that's good," Van said.
"You have to be a little careful with horst. You'll drink a gallon of it before you know it," Siln said.
Van looked down and his glass was empty. He didn't remember drinking it.
"Crazy, huh?" Siln said. "You can drink this stuff all night and not remember ever taking a sip. One more and we'll get something better." Siln finished off her drink and left the table. "Stay!" she said as if giving orders to a dog.
Van barked in reply, to which Siln turned and gave him a dirty look. Van wasn't upset by the looks or the scolding anymore. They didn't mean anything, it was just the way she was. She returned to the table with two young women.
"Van, this is Dorice and Sheyl." Turning to the young women. Siln said, "This is my traveling companion, Van."
Van stood up and shook their hands, saying, "Nice to meet you."
The girls giggled and replied they were also pleased to make his acquaintance.
"See? He is so old fashioned! Nice and polite. He's just adorable." Siln reached over and pinched his cheek.
Van thought she was laying it on pretty thick, but he played along. "Yes, I'm afraid I am a relic from the past. Did Siln tell you?"
Dorice piped up, saying, "She told us a little, why don't you tell us the rest?"
"I would be glad to, but first, let's get some goodies," he said causing the girls to start giggling again. "Siln, would you mind getting something for us, please." Ordinarily he would have ducked after saying that, but Siln just smiled sweetly and left. "Where are you girls from?"
"We're from Gamma Epsilon Seven," Sheyl said. "We're here on vacation. Isn't it great? Siln said you were too."
Sheyl had an exotic look. Her face appeared to reflect a diverse racial background. Her dark, slanted eyes were set against olive skin. Van thought she was really very pretty. Siln returned with a tray of strange-looking things. The girls gasped as she began setting them out.
Sheyl said, "Oh, my! I have never had that. Wasn't it expensive?" Siln shrugged casually.
The girls were both impressed with what Siln had purchased. Van supposed that they must be really expensive. He didn't care. They finished off the tray quickly with expressions of rapt pleasure.
"Shall we get another tray?" Van asked.
"Oh, we couldn't!" Dorice exclaimed. "It's way too much money!"
"Really, it's fine. This isn't a lot of money to us."
Van rose as if to get another tray but Siln touched his arm saying "No, no. I'll get it." It was all a charade of course, Van had no idea what Siln had ordered.
"She is so good to me," Van said smiling.
"You two must be very close," Sheyl asked with a question on her lips.
"Oh, yes. She is like a sister to me. I adore her."
"Really?" Sheyl said. She was so transparent that even Van could see it.
"Oh, yes. I don't have any family, Siln is all I have. We are as close as any brother and sister could be." Van smiled at the two girls sweetly. They smiled back. The rest of the night was a wonderful dream.
Van sat looking out the window the next afternoon. The night before was still fresh in his mind. He expected the memories would last a very long time. The girls were not at all hesitant to join them in the luxury suite after leaving the parlor. They were very impressed when the people at the lodging unit practically fought to reach Siln and Van. They had handed out commons indiscriminately. The girls actually let out a shriek when they reached the room. They acted as though meeting Van and Siln was the single best stroke of luck they ever had. They finished the night with a rousing round of sex. Siln ordered a very extravagant breakfast which pleased the girls to no end. Siln ordered them a limousine to take where ever they wanted to go. The girls were most disappointed to hear Van and Siln would be leaving the next day. So was Van. Siln had to go ... Alpha one was pulling at her.
Returning to space was a shock. He had been in space so long that he had forgotten what life was like. He found that he greatly preferred terrestrial life. They settled back into a routine after a time. Siln began to revert to her former self. She gradually became sullen, withdrawn. Van wondered at her transformation but didn't say anything. She spent hours in deep thought, her brow furrowed and jaw set. Van eventually became interested in food unit modifications again. He spent hours lying on his back under a control panel. One afternoon after a prolonged stint under the food unit, Van called out to Siln, "Hey, try supplement eighteen."
Siln had become accustomed to testing the concoctions Van created. She tolerated it because sometimes he hit a homerun. The ale he produced from the Gamma Epsilon samples had turned out pretty good. She was secretly in awe of him because he had accomplished a feat that had been thought impossible. Being free of rocket fuel was a real blessing.
Siln stood up and stepped over Van who was still under the panel. "Number eighteen," she said. Siln stood there wondering at the small mound of white powder that had materialized.
"Well?" asked Van.
"Well what? It's just a pile of dust."
"All right!" Van yelled as he flung himself out from under the panel. He dipped a finger in the powder and tasted it. "Seems like the stuff," he said.
"Like what stuff?" Siln asked as Van scooped up a bit of the powder with the tip of a knife.
"Opium." Van put the sample under the molecular analysis unit. The unit was used to diagnose substances related to medical conditions but Van had altered it to identify a wide range of molecular structures. He made a few adjustments and stared intently at the screen.
"Oh yeah, baby. Come to papa." He pinched a bit of the powder and put it to his nose. He inhaled sharply and stood there waiting. "Oh, yeah," he said as he sagged and collapsed onto the floor.
"What the hell did you make?" Siln asked incredulously. She had heard the word opium before, but had never seen any of it.
"It's an alkaloid, an opiate. It took a long time to figure it out on my other ship," Van said vacantly. His eyes were unfocused.
Siln was tempted to try it, but she decided she wasn't going to use it when she didn't even know what it was. She watched Van slowly roll onto his side as he drooled on the deck. I hope the freak doesn't die, she thought. She wasn't sure what would happen to her credentials if he died.
We soar and glide. A rich hydrocarbon updraft coming from the surface feeds us. We reach the heights where the hot blue light gives life. Our sinuous threads spread across the sky soaking up the glorious energy that makes us strong. Our fine crystalline web, translucent and sheer, catches the wind and we are borne aloft. From here the coarse, rough world below is bathed in a soft brown light. The sour methane seas roll softly against the shining glass shores. The brown sludge that flows slowly from the mountain is vaporized and sent aloft by rivulets of molten lead that crisscross the surface. Our brethren that have fallen lay strewn across the surface in sorrow and longing. Many are in shreds, never to soar again. Eventually they will fade but not before agony overtakes them.
We seek a mate, one to meld and bind with. They shall add to us and renew our spirit. We seek across the skies. We meet another and touch them lightly. They tentatively reach back and we draw each other close. Our combined brilliance shines like the suns that drift above us. We pull each other closer until we merge. Our joy is profound and we are blissful. We float higher and higher celebrating our union.
Our happiness is cut short by tendrils of blackness. The twelve! Evil creatures that do not seek to mate but rather to devour. Many of the fallen are their victims. The twelve were once among us, but strayed from the brilliant path. Seduced by the black smoke, they sank into the intoxicating darkness and were filled with lust and desire. The blackness cannot sustain itself for it is dead. It needs emissaries to feed it. The twelve roam the skies in search of victims for their cruel master. Their master is strong, too strong for us.
They have found us. We try to rise above them but they are strong. They match our ascent drawing nearer by the moment. We cry out in fear.
From below our cry is answered and answered again. A host is rising to meet the twelve. They join as they rise, gathering speed and strength. We dive to meet them and are transported by an awesome tide of power as we join as one. The twelve are unsure what to do. We seize the opportunity and envelope the twelve. They cry out in rage but one by one they are absorbed as they struggle. They join us. Joy and peace fills them and they are at rest. At last they are us. Our strength is enormous. There is now no need for the wind to carry us. We burn through the skies with speed never imagined.
We have no fear, nothing can harm us. We speed to the surface and rescue the fallen that may still join us. From upon far the rest come. Now there are no others, we are one. Our brilliance reduces the brown sludge on the planet below to ash. The methane sea roils and froths. The glassy surface of the planet turns liquid. We no longer require the hydrocarbon draft to nourish us. We are borne aloft by our magnificent energy, free of the need for wind. We race high above the planet into the black. None have been to the black where the winds fail. The energy is pure. We are pure. All is one. Far in the distance a bright star beckons us with intense energy. We take flight. The past, present and future merge. They are one.
He liked the feel of the smooth metal controls in his hands. They were always a little cool to the touch. They returned to neutral position with a satisfying thunk. There was no view panel at the control station, or Pilot's Seat as the paper manual called it. Instead there was a huge expanse of transparent carbon. It was harder than the hull metal. "If you take a blast, the wind shield is the best place on the ship to get it," the previous owner had said.
He was in love from the first moment he saw the beautiful black bird sitting on the deck. It had actual tires as if it were designed for runways. Runways had been out of use for hundreds of years. Everything about it harkened back to the futuristic science fiction of ancient times that he loved so. The pointed nose flowed into a curved and flattened flight deck where the pilot and co-pilot sat. The body widened into sleek wings which were used for atmospheric flight. It was also equipped with a full set of thrusters to navigate atmospheres in the normal fashion. The wings tapered back to a giant cluster of rocket engines at the rear of the ship. It just looked so cool. He had to have it.
The owner was equally as enthralled with Captain Daring's functionally efficient and more modern ship. It was clear Captain Daring's ship had more amenities and a much more modern interface. The black goddess sitting before him had optional panels but the main controls were sticks. One flew the ship by moving the various sticks to affect navigation, weapons, sub-light flight. The owner said it occasionally required at least one more hand than he had. The transition to panel mode took several seconds and was always needed at the worst of times. It was cumbersome to operate in panel mode so the whole setup was a bit of a nuisance. The rotund Lamatrin Captain loved and envied the headroom of the efficient metal box that Captain Daring flew. The sleek panels, the orderly storage, the lack of decoration, it was a Lamatrin's dream ship.
It soon became plain that they both dearly wanted the other's ship. There was very little negotiation once that had been established. A complete disclosure of every known defect was required under penalty of law. Each Captain examined the other's repair log. The black beauty, nice name, he thought seemed to require constant tinkering. Nothing serious but there was always something. The most extensive repair he had ever made to the ugly gray box he flew was to re-route a power fiber to improve artificial gravity. The Lamatrin wore what seemed to be a worried look. The facial expressions of non-humans were sometimes hard to interpret.
"So, do we have a trade?" the Lamatrin asked hopefully.
"Hell yes," exclaimed Captain Daring.
They performed the standard solemn vow of agreement, the touching of an appendage. Sometimes it was a shake, sometimes a mere touching. Daring had once vowed with a Pomis who had enveloped his arm up to the elbow with ectoplasm. Any reaction other than complete acceptance was a deal breaker. He stood there smiling while the warm and pulsating pseudo-flesh covered his arm and then withdrew.
The next couple of hours of the trade were devoted to cargo exchange, transferring personal gear, loading information and entertainment media, copying of logs, which every Captain had to keep forever, and the final orientation to each other's new craft. After that, they both retreated enthusiastically to their new ships. The Lamatrin wasted no time in exiting the atmosphere.
Captain Daring ran his hands along the sensuous black skin so smooth and perfect. The thrusters were the perfect picture of raw power. He stood at the bottom of the very old fashioned entry ramp. Steps with a handrail led up a ramp which was physically pulled up into place to form part of the hull. There were dozens of species that could not negotiate that entryway; it was something right out of the 22nd century. He put his hand on the wire cable handrail and mounted the steps.
The interior lighting was adequate but not bright. Instead of the omnipresent ambient lighting of a modern craft, accent lights and light strips were the only illumination. The storage lockers and access panels were secured by t-bar twist handles with actual chrome plating. The headroom was adequate, but not spacious. There were bulkheads between sections. He couldn't tell if they were functional or decorative. The flight deck entry was through a bulk head that he had to duck to get through. He edged his way into the cramped cabin and slid into the pilot seat. The scent of real leather permeated the cabin. He savored the look of the dials, the control sticks with their chrome shafts that tapered up to fist-sized balls, toggle switches, and alarm lights. He had never seen anything like it outside of a comic book.
He had to register a befitting name. It had to fit the style. He reached back in time, back to the hours spent digging through ancient media for the stories of a time when the future was a hopeful time. When mankind had big dreams. Before man discovered they were a speck of a race in a speck of a solar system. A mote of cosmic dust in a galaxy that was a speck in a sea of galaxies that went on forever. A time when tomorrow was something to be hoped for. That was good, something to hope for.
He searched the panel for the Comm. unit and pressed the button labeled 'transmit'. "Register Tomorrow identify," he said.
Central returned "Register Tomorrow."
"Request depart heading one-hundred by three-hundred," Captain Daring said, not really caring which direction he went.
"Tomorrow depart one-hundred by three-hundred authorize."
Captain Daring sat in the cockpit of his dreams grim-faced and steely-eyed. He began narrating his own story.
"Captain Daring grabbed the throttle of the mighty Tomorrow and took to the sky!" He eased the throttle forward and bought the attitude lever back. The craft rolled forward fifty feet on its wheels and then lifted smoothly off the pad gaining altitude at a steady pace. He eased the throttle forward until the Tomorrow reached mach eight. He began the somewhat tricky transition from thrusters to main drive. Outpacing thruster speed by powering up mains would create a back draft which would cause a thruster ignition chamber to explode. That was bad. That maneuver would have been controlled by the computer on any other ship, but the thrusters on the Tomorrow had to be cut back manually as the mains came on-line. The nose of the craft dipped as he began the maneuver, but soon turned skyward as the mains took over.
"Captain Daring and Tomorrow. Up, out, and away!" He shoved the main lever forward. He was pinned to the back of the seat by the unbelievable acceleration. He shouted for joy as the nose of the ship began to glow red in the thinning atmosphere. Soon the ship became a dot, then a speck, and then nothing as it passed light speed.
"Wake up," Siln shouted as she kicked the slumping Van in the ribs. "Are you dead or what?"
"Wha you wan?" Van mumbled.
"You've been laying there all damned day, get up. You're in the way." Siln had waited hours for Van to rise from his drug-induced coma. She became concerned when he started breathing erratically. She decided a good swift kick was in order; that always woke her up pretty well.
Van stirred, feeling like his arms were made of lead. "Man, I'm going to lay off that stuff. It makes me dream."
Siln stared at the groggy lump trying to rise from the floor and said, "Yeah, that's about the last thing you need, something that makes you dream."
Days are tedious aboard a ship. Each day seems the same as the last until time becomes meaningless. The only way to mark time was the chronometer in the control room. They never checked it. They never went into the control room at all. Siln had set the ship on a heading and forgot about it. Van eventually realized he had no idea how long they had been traveling. It reminded him of his long isolation and the endless days aboard his previous ship. He became afraid that the years might slip by as they had before. He asked how long the trip would take. Siln had replied it would take as long as it took. She wasn't inclined to answer any questions. She was intent upon leveling a hard stare at nothing with two hands wrapped around a tall glass of Seven. Van wasn't satisfied with the answer. He began the laborious job of learning the operation of the ship. He had learned panel layout and the hierarchical structure of the command system from the extensive research required for the modifications of the food and medical units. The propulsion system became his new obsession. Siln became irritated with his constant test maneuvers. The sudden shifts in mass to velocity ratios made things fly around the cabin, including Siln. Repeated light to sub-light dimensional shifts made her nauseous. Her protestations were met by a suggestion she try supplement eighteen. She finally decided that the supplement couldn't be any worse than the nausea. It made her throw up and pass out. She awoke from dark and ominous dreams even sicker than she had been before. She threatened him with extreme violence. His reply was to try supplement twenty four because it was an amphetamine. She offered a suggestion that he perform a biological impossibility. He countered with a fast lateral spin coupled with a rapid light to sub-light maneuver.
Siln grabbed her midsection and moaned, "What the hell was that?"
Van said, "Evasive maneuver six. Read the manual."
"I'll be reading your obituary if you don't get out of that seat," Siln said as she struggled to reach the arms locker.
"Okay, Okay," Van said as he leapt out of the control cabin. He rushed to the gagging Siln and helped her to the row of push armchairs lining the rear bulkhead. He went to the food processor and said, "Supplement twenty." He carried a small glass of a milky liquid to Siln and said, "Drink that."
Siln offered a uniquely crafted obscenity in response.
"No, this one is specifically for nausea. I developed it to counter the effect of supplement eighteen," Van said.
Siln responded with a vitriolic discussion that ranged from his lineage to his dietary habits with comments on his intelligence and character. At issue was the fact that Van knew she was sick and had told her to take supplement eighteen, which she foolishly did, knowing it would make her even sicker. She summed up with a rather pointed question as to why he would do such a thing.
Van replied with monumental bad judgment, "To shut you up."
In one graceful motion, Siln took the glass, drained the contents, and smashed the glass on Van's cheek.
Van collapsed to the floor with a yelp. He looked at his hand. It was bloody.
Siln tossed him a towel and said, "Stop bleeding on the deck." She strolled to the control panel feeling somewhat better. "Hey!" she said. "We're almost to the Alpha One solar system!"
Van watched Siln lean intently over the control console. She was visibly nervous. Beads of sweat glistened on her forehead. Van had never seen her like that. Her typical response to almost everything was anger.
A voice came through the communications system as they navigated through the Saturn perimeter. "Identify" was all it was said.
"Register Caveat," Siln said and she held her wrist over the small red light on the panel.
"Verified," the voice said. Siln exhaled loudly and slumped against the back of the seat. "Identify," the voice repeated.
Siln looked over at Van and said, "Put your arm over the scanner."
Van did as requested. "Verified. Identify," the voice again requested. Van looked at Siln with a question in his eyes.
"Complete," Siln said from her slumped position.
"Verified. Welcome home Mr. Ellen."
Van looked at Siln. She pointed at the speaker and mouthed 'thank you'.
Van turned and said, "Thank you."
"Heading, approach," was the response.
Siln looked at the navigation panel. "Zero by one-eighty," she said, indicating she would approach from the North Pole and descend opposite the Greenwich meridian. "Approach Alpha One Alpha."
"Control at forty five north."
Siln took the craft directly over the North Pole. She turned and descended down meridian one-eighty. When they reached the 45th parallel she stood up and left the cabin.
"Hey," Van yelled. "Where are you going? We're landing."
"When they said control at forty-five north, that meant they would bring the ship in from there."
"Oh. You can't land it yourself?" he asked
"They would blow us out of the sky if I tried that. They want to put you where they can inspect you before you have a chance to debark. We'll be surrounded by Forces when the hatch opens. Just stand still and let them do their thing. We don't have anything to worry about, unless they find out about your dirty little food unit inventions."
"Crap!" cried Van. He jumped out of the control cabin and grabbed the modified chemical detector he had constructed. He had a sudden horrible fear that he and Siln would be cast into the sewer that Siln had occupied her whole life. He began scanning madly while sweat broke out on his face. He was terrified that incriminating residues were present. There was quite a bit as it turned out. He was franticly neutralizing all the sources when Siln walked over to the medical panel. She worked the panel through several screens and suddenly all the traces disappeared. Van stood hunched over the food processing unit frozen in place.
"The other really good use of the environment pollutant neutralizer: evidence disposal," Siln said.
"Wow," Van said. "I think I can use that to remove impurities in supplement eighteen if I add the compounds I'm working on to the system."
Siln looked at Van clearly amazed. "Is that all you think about?"
"No, I'm fond of eating, too." He walked to the medical console and began flying through the screens.
Siln just shook her head. She returned to the control cabin and sat to watch the beautiful planet below her roll by. She had not been to Earth in ten years. Ten years of longing. A series of unlikely events had ended her exile. Now she sat wondering if a happy ending were possible. The first happy ending in her sorry life.
Siln sat against the cold stone wall hugging her knees. She fought to contain the cries struggling to erupt from her chest. Her mother lay before her covered by a blanket of cat fur. The woman lay dying from a disease with no cure. A cruel disease that devoured from within leaving an empty shell of a person as its witness. A topsider might have fared better, but a cure was not to be found down in the Dives.
Her mother's decline had left them impoverished. Unable and unwilling to leave her mother's side, Siln had fallen from relative comfort to abject misery in an effort to keep her mother alive. She could not risk being taken by the Forces and leaving her mother to die alone. She was forced to sell herself for scraps of food. It had been a terrible concession, but one of necessity.
Now her mother lingered near death. A death that would come as a blessed end to the horrible agony that had preceded it.
"Siln," her mother whispered hoarsely.
Siln leapt to her mother's side. "I'm here, mom," she said, her voice cracking.
"Siln. Promise me you'll get out. You have to get out."
"I will." Siln knew this to be a lie but if a lie brought her mother comfort, then lie she would.
"I..." her mother said and then said no more.
Those were the last words from her mother's lips. Siln often wondered what her mom had wanted to say. Siln wanted to believe her mother was going to say, "I love you". That seemed a little unlikely as she hadn't heard that phrase often while she was young. Those were the words Siln clung to anyway.
The events following the death of her mother had scarred her for life. There were no means of burial in the Dives. It was solid rock. Cremation or internment was out of the question for a number of reasons. The only alternative was to take the body top side. There were some who were buried under the floors of deserted buildings. That was the final luxury of the wealthy. A top side burial was extremely dangerous and was therefore extremely expensive. The end of a diver's sorrowful life was befitting to what the topsiders considered to be garbage. The body was left above ground to be collected by refuse patrol and taken away.
Siln wrapped her mother's body in a shroud of rags. She paid dearly with the only resource she possessed just to get her mother taken top side. She watched from the cover of deep shadows as her mother's body was lifted up into the refuse unit by two uniformed men. She had to stifle a strong urge to attack the men but that would have meant capture and death.
Death became less of a worry to her after that. Her will to live was slipping from her. That was the most common cause of death down below. The sink. That was what they called it. People just sank until they were finally drowned in the cold, dark sewer of the Dives.
Siln returned to the dark alley deep in the Dives where her mother had lived out her final days. Her hunger and the numbing cold eventually pushed her into the open. She found herself topside in a dirty warehouse. Staying there would mean certain capture but she didn't care any longer. Near starvation led her to a desperate act.
Soliciting top side was the most hazardous activity a diver could engage in short of robbery. The act was tolerated to a degree when conducted by someone with credentials. It was a time-honored profession, after all. The punishment was death if an inhabitant of the Dives was caught at it. There were a hundred ways to get caught. Payment was purely optional; divers had no leverage whatsoever. It was the last refuge of the desperate.
Siln selected her best clothing. She pulled on a brightly-colored flexisuit that hugged her body. She donned a baggy button-up sweater to hide the suit until the time was right. The pants she chose were slim and tight in the waist but not provocative. Subtlety was of the utmost importance. Those interested in a person of her skills would make their desires known in a discreet way. Siln would unbutton her sweater to reveal the flexisuit that exposed every detail of her shape. A quiet conversation in a darkened café might follow. Siln might tell the person that she had fallen on hard times explaining she needed a sum of money for rent. She might get it, she might not. It largely depended on if the customer found out she was a diver. They might do that by asking to meet her at her apartment or asking her if they could use her glider. Admitting to not having those things exposed the truth. It wasn't really very hard to find out the truth. Mortal danger lingered at every turn after that.
The next few weeks were a trial. It was hard to maintain her clothes in the filthy warehouse she inhabited. The outfit was absolutely essential to her trade. Having decent clothes was an important part of masquerading as a topsider. Just obtaining a meal was hazardous. Her warehouse lair was hardly secure. She had to use the emergency escape she had crafted more than once.
She had to raise some cash if she ever wanted to move back to the relative safety of Abbair's compound. She had been largely unsuccessful. She had entertained several men and one woman, but only a few were willing to give her more than a decibar.
She drove herself on day after day. She wasn't sure why. Life held no pleasure. She tolerated it more than she enjoyed it. One day she almost ran into a man as he exited a tall sky scraper. The man apologized, but then took a second look at her. She walked to the reflective window of the building and pretended to fix her hair. She reached up to run her hands over her head and flexed her elbows back to reveal her figure. That was about as much as she could get away with in the open. She straightened her clothes and turned to the man.
"Hello," she said innocently.
"I was on my way to lunch," the man said.
"I haven't eaten yet, would you mind if I joined you?" That exchange would have been terribly forward under normal circumstances. Men and women usually met only by arranged introductions. The family would often be consulted prior to a face-to-face meeting.
"Please do," the man said. Siln walked slightly in front as she led him on. They left the business district behind them. The buildings took on a well-used aspect. They entered a nondescript doorway under a sign saying, The Dineaway. Siln hesitated briefly to scan the room for potential danger. She headed for the rear of the restaurant in search of a secluded booth.
Siln unbuttoned her sweater as she sat saying, "It's quite warm in here."
"I thought it was because of the company," the man said smiling.
"Perhaps we should go someplace where we can talk about our mutual interests," Siln said coyly.
"Might I suggest your apartment?" the smiling man said.
Crap, Siln thought. "I'm afraid that would not be possible," she said. She tried to keep a straight face but this part always put her on edge. She could be exposed as a diver at any point.
"No matter," he said. "There are other places."
They ate a small lunch. Siln could have eaten much more, she hadn't eaten for two days. The man paid for their lunch. They exited and fled even further from the business district. Siln turned into an older, run-down hotel. She nodded to the desk clerk. He tossed a room key at her hiding his face as they passed.
She was very lucky. The encounter proved profitable. The gentleman offered to pay her back rent and a bit more for meals until the fire damage was repaired. She thanked him sincerely as they parted.
A few days later the same man ran across the street. He jogged over to say that he had been looking for her. He asked if the fire damage had been taken care of. She replied that it unfortunately had not. He offered his sympathies and suggested they have lunch. Instead of going directly to the hotel, as Siln expected, he actually took her to lunch. They went to a nice place in the business district. Siln looked out of place. It made her uncomfortable being so conspicuous, but she enjoyed the lunch very much.
"I don't have time for more conversation today but I would be pleased if you met me tomorrow at the restaurant where we first ate," he said.
Siln was confused. She never had a lunch that did not conclude with an offer of more conversation. "I guess. Sure, yeah," she said.
The man offered his thanks for the company as he rose. Siln became aware that she looked even more out of place without an escort. She rushed out of the restaurant to the relative safety of the warehouse. She didn't feel like working anymore that day. She tried to reconcile the events of the day. Could his request be more than what it appeared to be? Would he bring the Forces down on her? Why would he want to meet at the The Dineaway, he could sabotage her anywhere. It didn't add up. He was a good client, though. A free lunch! That had never happened to her. She resolved to meet him again. It was a long night. The persistent question of the meeting would not go away.
She dressed in the same outfit she had been wearing everyday for the last four months and steeled herself for the dangerous date she had made. It was a bit of a hike from the warehouse to the restaurant. She arrived a bit early not sure what to do. She couldn't go in without ordering anything. She couldn't just stand around waiting in front of the place, that would be too conspicuous. Finally she decided to walk in the direction of the business district in hopes of meeting her client. She met him just two blocks from the restaurant.
"Hello," he said with a big smile.
"Hi," Siln replied with a smile. The smile was not entirely faked. She was surprised at her pleasure in seeing him.
They chatted as they walked to the restaurant. Siln did not have much to offer since her life consisted of a dirty warehouse and plying her trade.
They entered the restaurant again and sat in a booth in the rear. The man said to order what she wished, so she ordered an actual beef hamburger. That was a terrible extravagance. The man just grinned all the more at the order. He ordered a modest lunch. He sat patiently as Siln devoured the sinfully huge, dripping sandwich.
The man finally sat up and reached for his purse. He pulled out an amount roughly equal to what he had given her at their last meeting.
He offered his hand and said, "My name is Christor."
Siln was unsure what to do. No one ever exchanged their real names. "Really?" Siln said in surprise rather than doubt.
The man pulled out his credential card. The name listed was "Christor Fullman".
"Wow," Siln said under her breath. She was taken completely by surprise. All she could think to do was stick out her hand and say, "I'm Siln During."
"Really?" the man asked in jest as he shook Siln's hand.
Siln could not help herself. She said, "I don't have any credentials."
"I know," Christor said. "You can take that money and leave or we can do what you want. We could go to the zoo. We could go to a holopark. Or, we could go have another conversation." He tried to keep his preference hidden, but was not wholly successful.
Siln desperately longed for normal things. The zoo, a holopark, those things were out of her reach. Christor offered to grant her wishes. She was overcome with gratitude. It was a time of firsts. She said, "Let's go have a conversation," just because she really wanted to.
The following weeks were surreal. Christor saw her very often and finally asked her to come stay with him. Siln rejected the offer at first out of fear that she would place him in danger. Christor persisted until Siln relented.
Siln experienced things she had only heard of after that. Simple things that every topsider took for granted. A bath, carefree days in the sun, a real bed. She almost forgot who she was, what she was. Then one morning she threw up. She thought it odd, but tossed it off. Two days later it happened again. A nagging fear grew to gripping anxiety, and finally to terror as days passed. The choices were all very bad for a pregnant diver. Getting an abortion was terribly dangerous due to the state of medical care down below. Having the baby wasn't much better. Trying to make a living with an infant was almost impossible. Her mom had become famous for doing it in style. Siln did not have her mom's flare for working topsiders, nor did she have her mom's looks. Christor became more and more concerned as she sank into despair. His constant pleading could not bring the truth out. Finally one day he made her sit in front of him as he knelt on the floor.
"Do you want to leave me, is that why you are so upset?" he asked.
"No," Siln said with downcast eyes. She was afraid to look at him. She knew her life with him was drawing to a close. The only real happiness she had ever enjoyed was slipping away. She was beginning to show. Soon she would not be able to hide the truth.
"Look at me. Don't you know I love you?" he said holding her folded hands in his.
Siln's head snapped up, her eyes wide. "You do?" she said in stunned amazement. The only person who had ever said those words to her was her mother.
"Yes," Christor said with a steady gaze. "I can't stand to see you like this. Please tell me what's wrong."
Siln could no longer contain herself. All her years of hiding her emotions had not prepared her for this. A ragged cry escaped her lips as she threw herself at Christor. He caught her as they fell over backwards. "It's over. It's all over," she cried out as she wept uncontrollably. She held him in an iron grasp until he forced his way out of her arms.
"Oh my God," he yelled. "What's wrong?"
She screamed, "I'm pregnant."
He sat up with surprise. "You are? That's great."
"No it's not. It's the end," she said as she fell into hard sobbing.
"The end of what?" he asked.
Siln knew Christor could not understand. He had no idea of what it meant to have no credentials. He had never been to the Dives. He probably didn't even know they existed. Siln said, "I can't have this baby with you. You would lose your credentials if we got caught. I can't do that to you. I have to go back." She paused. "Because I love you too." The confession sent her into heaving sobs. She had never allowed herself the freedom to cry freely. She hadn't cried out loud even at her own mother's death, but now the pain and sorrow poured out of her.
"We'll figure something out, it's okay. We'll make it work. Come on, it will be okay," Christor repeated over and over. It took a long time for Siln to calm down to gentle crying. He held her for a long time. She didn't want to let go. It was all coming apart, she didn't want it to go.
The next few months were a somber time. A time of frank discussions, strengthening love, and determination. Siln knew how it would turn out in the end. There was only one path that led to happiness for her baby and Christor. It didn't include her.
The discussions around the birth centered on how to provide the best care possible while still maintaining their secret. A search requiring the most delicate and discreet inquiries revealed a hope. A friend of a friend. A woman who was known as a midwife ... a compassionate healer. The midwife was willing to serve even though it involved no small amount of personal danger. There would be no denying foreknowledge of the circumstances if things went wrong. Everyone involved shared the danger. There would be no simple expulsion for Siln were she caught. Yet for all the danger and pitfalls, it was still infinitely safer than giving birth in the Dives.
The midwife moved in with them as the day grew closer. Christor's aunt, by way of explanation. Siln had been in seclusion for months. A pregnant woman would invite too many questions. Siln endured the discomforts and tried to conceive of some other way out. Some way different than the way she knew it had to be. The solution never changed, it was the only way.
The birth had been more difficult than Siln thought it would be. She was afraid things might go terribly wrong, but then the most beautiful creature ever imagined by God was laid on her chest. The wondrous baby girl lay squalling as the umbilical cord was tied and the afterbirth completed. The baby was wrapped and presented to Siln. Siln experienced a joy she had never imagined. It was a gift beyond grace. The world stood still in that perfect moment.
Siln reveled in her role of mother to the most beautiful baby in the universe. The baby grew quickly. She took to breast feeding easily. But, in the back of Siln's mind was The Fact. It was only a matter of time. How much time? That was the question. The days turned to weeks and then to months. Siln began weaning the baby. Christor asked why so soon? Siln would only say she thought it was time and he didn't press her to explain in more detail. Time began to pull Siln down. It was no longer her friend. She couldn't stop the days from falling behind her.
At six months the baby was being fed entirely from the bottle. Siln had secretly been to the Dives several times to make the terrible arrangements. She began to barricade her heart with the walls that had existed before she found her love and savior. The thought of his anguish hurt her, but she would not be deterred. One day after Christor went to work as usual, she gathered her things and stuffed them into a dirty knapsack. It couldn't be clean and perfect or it would arouse suspicion. She might be held for ransom if she appeared to have any money. The nanny came at ten o'clock. Siln gave an envelope to the nanny and asked it be given to Christor when he got home. The envelope held a letter which had taken weeks to compose. It spelled out everything. All the reasons. The plain, horrible facts. She died a little as she turned to leave the glistening apartment. Neither Christor nor the baby would be safe as long as Siln could be found. Christor could explain how the child had been abandoned, how he had rescued it. The genetics tests could be trouble but there were ways around that. The baby would inherit his impeccable credentials. They would live a good life, but only if Siln was never found. They could link her to the baby in an instant with a simple test. No, she had to leave. Not just the city, not just the country, but the world. Siln left behind her loves, her life, everything she had ever known. She left for a life that made the Dives look like a life of luxury. She vowed to someday return, if only for a glimpse of her loves. Now she returned triumphant, able to be all that she could not have been for the last ten years. What would she arrive to find? Christor married, her little girl a complete stranger? The Caveat soared over the great lakes and began a slow descent. The city came into view. Siln had a panicky feeling. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe they should just get some coffee and leave ... but she knew she would not leave. She would see this through. This was her chance, her only chance. Peace and happiness did not exist for her anywhere if not here. Waiting is where the demons abide. Doubt, fear, self loathing, they all found their way to the surface from between the seconds that crawled by. Siln had done many things, been many things, none of them worthy of pride. The question she asked herself was, could she still be saved?
She didn't feel right. She didn't know herself, as if she had on someone else's skin. She had been playing rich on Gamma One. Now she was playing normal. It was a much harder game. All you needed to play rich was money. You had to be normal to act normal. She was not normal in the least. She looked down upon a street that she had once walked in desperation. She watched the gliders come and go through a clear blue sky. She had once fled her home through these skies fearing destruction at any second. The full-length window that occupied one end of their two-bedroom apartment looked out upon overwhelming normalcy. Not much had changed. The sky was still filled with immense buildings. The holovision still pumped out inanities. There was still a war somewhere. There were still famous people she didn't care about. There was one big thing that wasn't the same. She was up here instead of down there, down below. A warm bed instead of cold rock. Thousands of people were rotting in the frigid underground sewers while she kneaded the plush carpeting with her toes. Alpha One, the model of technical achievement, but it had a dark underside. There was almost no crime topside. It was a beautiful, perfect world where peace and prosperity ruled the day. The ugly things, the evil things, those were banished to the deep caverns that riddled the planet like the rotting roots of an ancient tree. The tree stood in the sun, majestic and proud, but corruption and decay were at its foundation. Some day the tree would suddenly topple. People would mourn the loss of such beauty while rot and corruption lay all around them ... under their feet. She didn't feel right.
"Man, this sure beats space travel!" Van said as he exited the shower. They had become accustom to seeing each other in various stages of undress a long time ago. The Caveat was too small for privacy.
"Well, live it up, space boy. We'll be out of here after I take care of some business." She had given up any hope of a happy reunion. She was now shooting for a brief encounter to explain her long absence followed by some awkward conversation, winding up with a brief farewell.
"I want to see if I can find any relatives," Van said.
Siln turned to face him. "I know you do, but think about this," she said in an uncharacteristically gentle tone. "If your relatives have bad credentials then you might get dirty just associating with them. It's a lot safer to just leave well enough alone. They think you're dead. Leave it at that." She walked to the food unit for a drink but changed her mind. She actually preferred the drinks Van made to anything that be gotten out of an Alpha One unit.
"I'm going out," she said as she scooped her coat up off the chair.
"I might go get something to eat," Van said
"The hell you will," she said, returning to her normal acrid speech. "Don't you leave this apartment. I'll be back in a bit. We'll both go when I get back." She started to slam the door but the act seemed out of place in the gentile apartment building so she stifled the urge.
She no longer wore the expensive clothes she had purchased on Gamma One. They were too flamboyant. She didn't want to stick out, she wanted to look normal. She had dragged Van along on a shopping trip. She explained to him that it was an absolute necessity he accompany her because she couldn't have any financial irregularities popping up in his accounts. They spent the day going from store to store while Siln was transformed into the very model of a conservative topsider. She was annoyed by how much it cost. Van didn't care, he didn't know anything about money. Siln thought of the clothes as a disguise. A veneer of conformity over a dark creature of the underground. It was a good disguise, no one knew. No one except Siln. Sooner or later she would have to face it.
She returned to the apartment to find Van under the food processing unit. "What the hell are you doing?" she yelled as she ran to the unit. She jerked Van out from under the unit. He bumped his head on the doorway as he flew out onto the carpet.
"What?" the shocked Van said holding his hand over the throbbing lump at his temple.
"I can't leave you for an hour. What are you trying to do, get cocaine out of it?" Siln shouted, her cheeks red with anger.
"No. I was just checking it out, it's a lot better than ours. I think I'll have one installed in the Caveat. I could make some cool stuff," he said as he slid back under the unit.
Siln felt bad. She lived in continual fear of losing her credentials. The continual tension made her treat Van badly. Yelling at Van was like hitting a puppy. It didn't do any good and afterwards she felt really bad.
"Hey, let's go get something to eat. Let's go up town." She used the toilet without closing the door, another habit picked up on the Caveat.
"Okay, what should I wear?" Van asked. Modern fashion was a complete mystery to him.
"What you have on is fine. Wait a minute. Where did you get that shirt? Change into something else."
Van had bought the shirt because it looked vaguely like something from his time. That meant it was completely out of place now. He put on a trim and colorful shirt.
They took a taxi uptown. Van was a little dismayed as the surroundings took on an ever more decrepit look. They stopped in front of a plain door with a sign reading The Dineaway. They walked to a darkened booth in the rear of the restaurant.
"You've eaten here before?" asked Van.
"Yes," she replied.
Siln appeared vacant, far away. He studied her face as the vacuous look turned to sadness, then to sorrow. Soon a tear rolled down her cheek, followed by another, and another. She laid her head upon her folded arms and began to cry softly.
"Siln, what's wrong?" he asked quietly, urgently.
Van waived off the waiter but she wouldn't be dismissed. "You have to order or leave," she said curtly.
"You have hamburgers? Bring two hamburgers and two sodas," he said still looking at the sobbing Siln.
"Really?" the waitress said in surprise. "Okay," and walked away shaking her head.
Van wondered what the waitress had meant and then turned his attention back to Siln.
"Why are you crying?" He was really worried, this seemed to have come out of nowhere.
"I'll never get them back," she said with difficulty. "I don't know why I came. I was a fool. A stupid fool." She began crying harder.
"Get who back? Who are you talking about?"
"My baby." She had completely lost control. Her despair moved Van to action. He slid out of his seat and went to Siln. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and tried to comfort her.
"Come on," he said quietly as he gently rocked her and patted her back. "We can work it out. I'll help you. I'll be with you."
She turned and wrapped her arms around his neck and sobbed into his shoulder.
The waitress brought two sorry-looking burgers and small glasses of a bubbling blue liquid with no ice. Her face became wrinkled with concern. She said, "Take your time."
Siln wound down to soft, stuttering sobs. "I have a baby. She's ten years old. Her father was a topsider. I had to leave to protect them. I couldn't stay." With that she began crying harder.
Van wondered what a topsider was. He said, "Do you know where they are?"
"I think so," Siln said. She lifted her head off his shoulder and freed herself from his embrace. "I want to see them but it's dangerous."
"Why?" Van understood nothing about the world he used to call home. "It's dangerous to see your baby?"
"The father could turn me in for having the baby and abandoning her. He had to make up a story about how he got her. He had to say I abandoned her. He could have had his own credentials taken so I ran. I don't know what he'll do. It's really dangerous. Are those hamburgers?" she asked wide-eyed.
Van was very confused. He answered the easy question first. "Yes?"
"Oh my God, do you know how much they cost?"
"No?"
Siln grabbed for the plate and launched into a vigorous attack. She finished the burger in six bites. "Are you going to eat that?" she asked with her mouth full of food.
"No?" he said as Siln gobbled up the second one.
She collapsed back into the seat and remained motionless for some time.
"Those probably cost twenty bars," she said from her listless repose.
"Is that a lot?" Van didn't really care, he was just curious why a burger would be expensive.
"Never mind," Siln said as she sat up. She looked at him intently. "I have to take you someplace. It is going to be very dangerous. You will be frightened. You will have to stay by me and do exactly what I say without any questions. Got it?"
"Sure," he said. "Where are we going?"
"The Dives."
They walked away from their nice apartment carrying clothes that made Van worry. They had been hard to obtain. There was certainly nothing like them in the stores. He and Siln had walked the streets for several days to get them. Late one afternoon as they were out walking, Siln put her hand across his chest. She walked across the street and spoke a few words into the air while standing close to an unusually dressed woman. The woman spoke without looking at Siln. Siln walked back to Van.
"Come on," she said and began walking. They walked for a couple of miles turning several corners. They entered a darkened tavern. Van was perplexed to see there was no bar. The tavern seating consisted of small booths placed so that none were visible from the others. They sat in the rear.
A waiter walked up. Siln said, "Three synth bars." The waiter left without comment.
"Why didn't we get burgers?" asked Van.
"Shut up. Don't say anything. Just sit there," she said evenly.
The waiter brought three plates with unappetizing lumps on them and again left without speaking. The woman Siln had spoken to entered the tavern looking cautiously from side to side. Satisfied it was safe to enter, she found Van and Siln. She scooted in next to Van. She had an unhealthy air about her. Her clothes were somewhat ragged and she smelled odd. She said, "Let's go, talk about the weather."
Van looked at her quizzically.
Siln said, "Maybe later. Right now I want to talk about something else. My friend and I are taking a trip. We aren't dressed for the weather. I want you to help us find some appropriate clothing."
The woman looked at Siln clearly suspicious. "Where are you going?" she said.
"It will be dark and cold, we can't go dressed like this. These clothes are too pretty. These clothes are something a topsider would wear."
The woman stiffened. "Why are you taking this trip? Some people aren't used to cold and dark places. The locals get very upset if someone who isn't supposed to be there acts rude".
"I have spent a lot of time in the cold and dark. We would not dream of being rude or talking about anyone that we might have met. All we want are clothes we aren't afraid to get dirty."
The woman was silent for a time. She said, "I would help you if I had any money. I'm afraid I can't help though because of a recent medical expense." The woman looked at Siln expectantly.
Siln turned to Van and said, "Give her a bar."
Van dug in his pocket and pulled out a handful of bars. Siln rolled her eyes at him and gave him a disgusted look. He handed a bar to the woman seated next to him.
The woman took the bar while looking intently at the fist full of cash Van held. "I'm sure I will need more than one bar," she said, still looking at the money.
Siln leveled a hard stare at Van until he caught on and put the money away. She said, "I can assure you that we will be most appreciative of your time and effort after we have the clothes. Where can we meet to talk about this further?"
The woman was crestfallen. She sighed and said, "The Turnaround. Two blocks east, room twenty-five. Two o'clock tomorrow. Come alone."
"I'm sorry, but it is necessary for my associate and I to travel together. We will meet you at two." Siln stood up and the meeting was over.
The woman stood up giving Siln an appraising look. She walked briskly out the front doors after pausing to check the street.
"What was that all about?" Van asked.
"I'll tell you later. Go pay and let's get out of here."
"What about our food."
"Nobody eats that stuff," Siln said with a sour look.
"Then why did we order it?" Van was really lost.
"Shut up and pay. Quit talking. Remember the rules?" Siln walked outside.
Van paid the indifferent waiter while mumbling to himself about stupid rules. Siln was waiting when he walked out side.
Siln grabbed him by the lapels. She put her nose one inch from Vans nose and said, "Listen, this isn't a game. Don't run off at the mouth where people can hear you. Don't wave fists full of money around. You don't know what it's like. You don't know what's at stake." She realized she had been slamming Van up against the wall. She released him feeling abashed. She admonished herself for treating the gentle Van so badly, and said "Just trust me on this, alright?"
"Sure. I didn't know. I don't know what's going on. Maybe I would do better if you told me what's going on."
Siln hesitated. How much should she tell him? How much could he understand? How much did she want to remember? "Remember how I told you that when you don't have credentials, you can't do anything?"
Van did recall that and he nodded his head.
"There's a place where all the people who don't have credentials go. It's underground. It's really big, there are a lot of people. It's not a nice place but it's the only place people like that can go and not get picked up by the Forces. Really, really bad things happen to people from down there when they get picked up by the Forces, understand?"
"Yeah, so far. Is that where we're going? Why are we going there?"
"Because you and I are going to go look for my baby and her father. They might call the Forces. It could go badly. So badly we might have to escape. We will need a place to go. We can't just go down to that place without any friends. That would be very bad. You could go back up top because the whole thing has nothing to do with you. You could say you didn't know what was going on because you are so crazy. They would believe you." Siln gave Van a sly look and chuckled. Her face contorted in pain, she said, "I would have to stay there, though."
Van thought he had it figured out, mostly. "What was the whole clothes thing?" he asked.
"People down there don't dress like this, we would stick out screaming attack me, I have money. You and I are living like topsiders. That's what the people below call the people with credentials that live above ground. The woman knew I was familiar with the underground when I said topsider. That woman was a diver. That's what they call themselves. She is going to get us some beat up clothes so we won't look out of place. Right now she is really afraid of us. We could turn her in, or do anything we want, really. She's desperate for money, that's why she is out in the light even though it is extremely dangerous."
"So she was what? A prostitute?" Van had no idea.
"Yes, and it is horribly dangerous to try and make money that way. Really bad. That poor woman is risking death every day."
They turned and walked through the clean and well-ordered streets. Van looked at them with new eyes. He felt like a jerk walking around in nice clothes and buying anything he wanted when so many people couldn't. It was as if there was an entire society of outlaws. Van wondered how the government could do that? How could they expel everyone they didn't want? Everything was so civilized, but it wasn't really. It was cruel. Beyond cruel. Inhuman. He started to get mad. He turned to Siln and shouted "How can they do that?"
She took his hand and dug in her fingernails. "Shut up, you idiot. Put a smile on your stupid face and act like you're happy. Everybody is happy up here. We're just normal people, happy people."
It took some effort for Van to act normal with Siln's nails imbedded in his hand. "Okay, happy." he said trying to smile. It made his brow break out in sweat.
"Good." she said cheerily. "Now be quiet until we get home."
Van saw a drop of blood roll down to his fingertip and drop to the pavement. "Has anyone ever told you that you are a sadistic bully?" he asked, smiling.
"You did about four months ago," she chirped. She dropped his hand when she was satisfied Van had been taught well enough to mind his manners.
Van lifted his hand. There were four red crescents carved into the back of his hand. He thought briefly of reporting her to Human Resources, but that would have been an act of consummate cruelty. He would fashion some other form of revenge. A cold virus supplement, perhaps. The medical unit was designed to prevent such things but Van had become very adept at bending the system to his will. Maybe a touch of diarrhea for good measure. He occupied his mind by considering how to turn a computer designed to destroy viruses into one that created them. He wondered if he could gain entry into Evil Scientist college with that.
That night Siln filled Van in on life in the Dives. He was stunned at the thought of living out one's years in the frigid dark. No real doctors. No libraries. None of the basic amenities he considered fundamental to a good life. No wonder credentials were such a big deal.
"How did you survive out in space?" Van asked. The Dives were bad, but at least they were protective.
"It was hard." Siln was beginning to tire of the social studies lesson, they had been at it for hours. "I would just try to find a crack somewhere to hide in and make a living any way I could."
"Any way you could?" Van asked.
"Yes asshole, any way I could." Siln stood up and stomped off.
Van felt bad. He hadn't meant to pry, the question had just slipped out. He followed her to her bedroom.
"I'm sorry, Siln. That wasn't any of my business," he said.
"Hell, that's alright," she said staring at the floor as she sat on her bed. "I did what I had to do, just like the woman we are meeting tomorrow. It's not pretty but that's the way it was. I'm turning in, hit the light." She stood up and began to undress.
Van turned the light off and went to the window. The gleaming facade of gentile civility looked fake. A pretense. A mass hallucination that the entire world created to cover up the atrocities below. The omnipresent Forces, which were a massive conglomerate of all the world's armies, police, security organizations, intelligence agencies, and every law enforcement officer everywhere right down to park rangers, kept the undesirables out of sight down below. No crime of any sort was tolerated. Accidents, minor domestic squabbles, disagreements between parties that did not escalate to true violence; those were tolerated. Everything else was death by shunning. Van considered the ramifications of what they were about to attempt. He decided it couldn't be helped. He would stay by her side no matter the cost.
The next afternoon they walked to the Turnaround hotel. Van did indeed want to turn around once they entered the lobby. It hadn't been painted or cleaned since he had left Earth. The tattered furniture defied anyone to actually sit on it under threat of injury. Siln walked directly to the desk and said, "Twenty-five."
The clerk leveled a curious stare at Siln and Van. They were not dressed in the usual manner of his typical couples. He put the key on the counter and said, "One bar."
Siln let out a guffaw and said, "How much?"
The clerk looked at them angrily and said "Five decibar." He said, "Don't make me call the Forces."
Siln leaned over the counter and said, "I'll save you the trouble. I'll call them right now."
The clerk quailed. He slid the key to Siln and said, "Have a nice stay."
Siln snatched the key off the counter. She led Van to a shabby stairway.
"Why don't we use the lift?" Van asked.
"Do you see a lift?" Siln shot back. This place brought back very bad memories. This was one of the few hotels of its kind that was tolerated. It was far enough out of downtown to not be an irritant yet close enough to cater to those topsiders who were inclined to use it.
To say that room twenty five was a disappointment was an understatement. Everything from the cracked mirror to the broken bed spoke of abuse and misuse. Oddly enough, the shower was clean.
"Well, what do you think!?" Siln said in a cheerful tone.
"What do I think?" Van asked in disbelief. "What do I think? This is disgusting. Who would ever stay here? You would be better off sleeping in the gutter."
"Yeah, but people only stay here an hour at a time," Siln said coyly.
"Ohhh. I get it. An hour at a time. On that bed?"
"Yep, on that bed. That one is a little worse than usual but I bet if you strip it and flip the mattress over, it would be much better."
"Oh my God. How long did you have to live like that?" He was horrified, shocked. He had no idea what her life could have been like.
"Oh, less than a year probably. I wasn't keeping a calendar. I figured I get picked up and executed anyway."
Van was starting to tear up when the door creaked open and the woman peeked in.
"Come in," Siln said to her.
The woman carried a bag. She walked to the bed and dumped the clothes out. They were a sorry looking bunch of ragged clothes. Siln put on one of the shirts. It was baggy and didn't fit her well. She picked a pair of pants and held them up to Van's waist. They were too short and were going to be a little tight. "Did you get a money belt?" Siln asked.
The woman sifted through the pile and pulled out a belt with a bulge in the middle. Siln took it and then handed it to Van. "Try those on," she said. He did and Siln inspected him. Siln decided the clothes would do. She turned to the woman and said, "How much?"
Siln knew the woman was calculating risks and how much she could get. Too much and they would shoo her out of the room laughing. Too little and the next few days would be misery. Her situation was even worse than Siln realized. The woman emboldened herself and said, "Two bars."
Siln could see the poor woman shaking. That was an outlandish amount. She must be in real trouble, Siln thought. She turned to Van and said, "Give her ten bars."
Van was momentarily stunned. The economics of the time were a continuing mystery. He turned around so to not wave fists full of money and then turned back to give the woman ten bars.
The woman stood holding the bars. She began to tremble, unable to speak or move. She began crying. "What are you doing? This is cruel. This is enough money to buy my way back home. Please don't call the Forces. You can have it all back. Really." She was crumbling before their eyes.
Siln had not intended to make the poor woman fall apart. She only wanted to impress upon her that they had the resources to reward her greatly. She took the woman by the shoulders. "We're not going to call the Forces. We need your help." She turned to Van and said, "Give her two more bars." The woman accepted them but was still clearly frightened.
"Are you going to kill me?" Acts of kindness were nonexistent in her world.
"What is your name?" Siln asked.
The woman didn't like to use her name but this was a special circumstance. She could get killed by not answering. "Taren."
"We are not going to hurt you, Taren. We need you. The money is to get you back in. We need to get to New Bedlam, do you know where that is?"
"New Bedlam? Why?" The woman was suddenly suspicious.
"I can't tell you all the reasons why. You wouldn't want to know, for one thing." That was code for don't ask questions that might kill you. My associate and I are going to do something top side that might cause us to need shelter. I'm not talking about anything bad. It's just that I used to be a diver. I got my credentials restored, a full set. The person I'm going to see could get them pulled in a snap. I'm going to have to dive if that happens."
"Restored! How did that happen!?" That never happened. Taren was very intrigued.
"It's a long story but it has to do with this guy," she said, jerking a thumb at Van. "That's why we have to stay together, my credentials are linked to him."
"So, does he own you?" Taren asked.
"No. Like I said, it's hard to explain. His name is Van, I'm Siln."
Taren regarded them openly for a few seconds. Then she stuck out her hand. She said, "It's nice to meet you. When do we start?"
There were arrangements to be made. Van arranged to have the apartment rent paid by an automatic account deduction. He called his account manager to explain they might have an extended period of inactivity, but not to worry. The next morning they wrapped their disguises in crisp paper that looked like a laundry bundle. Siln left without looking back. Van guessed she didn't want this to be a goodbye. They walked away from their nice apartment carrying clothes that made Van worry. They didn't walk to the portal of the Dives. They went to an abandoned warehouse and changed clothes. They wrapped their street clothes in the crisp paper and hid them very well. They began the circuitous route to the portal. Taren was waiting for them when they got there. "Thanks for being on time," she said. They walked to the back of the building and lifted up a sheet of tin. Taren went first followed by Van. Siln looked back and scanned the room. She slipped inside when she was satisfied no one was watching.
The rush of foul odors blinded her with memories. She had to hold on to Van's arm to keep her footing. She began to cry. Taren turned back and said, "Look, I know this is hard, but you have to pull it together. Don't forget what it's like down here."
Siln remembered. You have to stuff it back down. You have to keep it locked up. It will try to push through, but you can't let it.
Van remembered the rules very clearly. He would obey them religiously. It was the most threatening place he had ever been. He would absolutely stick to Siln and would never, ever speak.
They descended a long time. Van lost track of how deep they might be. Every fifty to a hundred feet they would pass the entrance to another level. Some were heavily fortified. Some were not guarded. The people they met were cautious, verging on violence, or clearly insane. It became cold. The cold was made worse by the persistent dampness. They reached a level that had a crude sign reading "New Bedlam".
"Do they know you here?" Siln asked.
"Oh, yeah," Taren replied with a tone that suggested they knew her very well.
A voice challenged them as they stepped off the stairway. "Who are you and what do you want?"
Taren leaned over and whispered to Siln saying, "I think you should answer them."
Know her, huh, thought Siln. Maybe a little too well. "I'm whoever you want me to be and I want the same thing as you. A hot meal and a cold beer."
"Tanner?" called the voice in disbelief.
"No, Siln."
"Siln! What the hell are you doing here? We thought you were dead. Where's Tanner?" A graying man walked forward holding a rifle pointed at the floor.
"Tanner is dead. She died about eleven years ago from cancer," Siln replied.
When the man got closer he stopped and raised the rifle. "What's she doing here?" he asked, menace in his voice.
"I needed a guide. I've been away a long time. I couldn't just march in here like nothing happened. She has treated us fairly."
"Yeah? Well, she has a lot of people she is going to have to treat fairly if she wants to stay." The man kept the rifle trained on them. "Who's that?" he asked jerking the rifle barrel toward Van.
"That's Van. I'm traveling with him. He's crazy but harmless. He doesn't know the first thing about what's going on and sometimes even less than that."
"You two can pass," he said indicating Van and Siln. "She is staying behind to explain herself."
"Is Abbair's compound still secure?" Siln asked.
"Better," the man said.
Siln turned and walked away without comment. Better than secure? It was pretty good before. Siln realized things were different after they had walked just a short distance. Buildings that had been abandoned were now filled with people. The sidewalks were lit by street lamps. Lighting had been very scarce when she had left. People came and went with a casual air. Neither she nor Van were regarded with suspicion, or even noticed for that matter. There were people in uniforms standing on street corners. Siln decided to take a chance. "Excuse me," she said. "What are all you people in uniform supposed to be?"
"Supposed to be?" the stout woman said from under the brim of her hat. "We are the enforcement detail."
"You mean like the Forces?"
"No. Not like the Forces." The woman clearly resented the reference. "Our job is to help people in trouble and maintain order. We don't beat people up and we don't try to scare people. You must be new here," the woman said.
"Not new, but I haven't been back for ten years."
"Oh! Well, that was before. You better go see Abbair." The woman return to her stoic stance with her hands folded behind her back.
Siln was dazed by the transformation. The glow of a large compound began to fill the ceiling before they had even gone a mile. "Now, remember. Shut up!" she said to the disoriented Van.
They approached the gates slowly as Siln waited for the challenge. None came. They walked through the wide-open gates and were waived on by two bored gatekeepers. What the heck, thought Siln, I could live here. This isn't bad. They came to a large abode which bespoke of authority. They mounted the steps and entered a small room. A guard challenged them.
"Speak your business," the guard said in a rather un-intimidating way.
"I would like to speak to Abbair about possible lodging," Siln said.
"Good luck with that," the man said in a way that suggested they might not find it.
That was hardly a challenge, Siln thought. They walked through a sumptuous entry hall. Siln ignored Van. He was stumbling forward with his mouth agape trying to take it all in. She hoped he didn't go missing mentally.
She was shocked by what she saw in the main hall. It was a scene out of a Renascence painting. People were dressed in finery, lace, and silk. Abbair sat at the end of a long table dressed as a monarch in rich robes.
"Come in, strangers," he bellowed. "Be welcomed at our table and speak your piece."
Siln was too shocked for words. The table was set with actual food. People were laughing and smiling.
Van whispered, "You were right, this is hell."
"Shut up before I tell them you raped me," Siln whispered, "Abbair, I am Siln, daughter of Tanner."
Abbair leaped onto the table and then on to the floor in front of her. He grasped her by the shoulders with surprise written on his face. "My God. It is you. Where have you been? Where is your mother?"
Siln relayed the whole story, including her baby and self-imposed exile. She had got up to the part where she and Van met when the man from the front gate came running in.
"Abbair. Abbair," he cried.
Abbair snapped around to face him. "What is it?" he cried in surprise.
"Taren is out front. She says these people gave her twelve bars to get them clothes to come down here."
"Twelve bars?" he said. "Okay Siln, how did you get twelve bars? What's going on?" He pulled her down to the bench and took her by the hands. A group of people started to gather around her.
It was becoming apparent that nothing short of the whole truth was going to do. That was when she noticed Van wasn't in sight. She leapt to her feet shouting "Van, Van." He pushed his way through the wall of people and stood in front of her. "Do you remember the rules?" she said as if talking to a child. He nodded sheepishly. "Then sit down here," she said and patted the bench beside her.
"It is a long, strange story," she began. She told it all. All the reasons she was in the Dives, how she planned to see her baby, all of it. By the end, everyone was transfixed.
"That is a tale, indeed. Got your credentials restored, wow. I don't know if that has ever happened," Abbair said, his eyes wide.
"No one was more surprise than me," Siln said. "But what about your compound? What is going on? The whole level looks almost like a topsider town."
The crowd gasped. "We prefer to think it better. We do not punish people who break our rules harshly. Sometimes it is necessary to expel someone. Like Taren, for instance. I don't know if we will let her back or not." Abbair rubbed his beard in thought.
Siln said, "For what it's worth, she treated us fairly. She could have laid a trap for us, she knew we had money. She escorted us down as per our agreement without robbing us."
"Yes, there is that to consider. We shall see." He dismissed the sentry and returned his attention to Siln. "What happened was a miracle." The people were nodding in agreement. "We have become rich, rich beyond hope. Several years ago two scrapers on the run showed up with a food processor and a large box. They built a catalytic converter from the contents of the box. It produces electricity and the waste is pure, clean water. We started taking advantage of it immediately. We found ways to improve and expand the operation. The improvements were great. We now have heat in some places."
Siln had noticed it was comfortably warm but thought it was because of the crowd.
"But that wasn't the miracle," he said leaning in. The crowd was nodding their heads. "The miracle was the food processing unit. It produced alcohol!" The crowd let out a cheer as Abbair held his glass aloft.
Wow, these people must really like to drink, thought Van.
"We started selling it all over the Dives. We even sell it topside. We can make it cheaper than they can. Not just that, it's a disinfectant, a preservative, a fuel. It has been the greatest blessing we have ever known. God bless the person that invented it." The crowd let out a deafening roar in agreement.
Van leaned over to the stunned Siln saying, "Oh, really?"
"Shut up!" she yelled and jabbed him in the ribs hard.
The crowd fell immediately quiet. Abbair said, "Siln, what makes you treat this man so? It is not our custom or law to allow such treatment."
"Abbair, I have some very, very interesting information for you. So interesting, in fact, that it may be of some value. This may be the biggest news since the scrapers showed up with the food processor."
"Does this explain why you mistreat your companion?"
"It does. This man is not of our time. He was lost in space for hundreds of years. He spent most of that time in a suspended animation unit that had malfunctioned. Consequently he will now and again fall into an unconscious state and experience a dream that he cannot distinguish from reality. They are not dreams as you and I know them but are completely real to him. They are essentially holovision stories he had programmed into the system. You see, he had a lot of time to tinker with things. In addition to the holovision work, he also modified the food processing unit. Abbair, this is the man who invented food processor alcohol."
Absolute silence fell over the crowd. "You know this to be true?" Abbair said in amazement.
"Yes," said Siln. "I've seen it for myself. He modified the unit on the ship we came to Alpha One in. I haven't drunk rocket fuel for months. There are no limits to what he can make with the right equipment. He can make medicine."
Van's eyes went wide at that. He leaned over and said, "What the hell are you talking about?"
"Morphine is a medicine, now shut up," she hissed through clenched teeth.
Siln continued, "But, he is not of our time, and he has a severe medical problem. I instructed him to not speak because there is really no telling what he will say. It might endanger both of us. These instructions sometime require a little reinforcement."
Van left out a stifled guffaw at that. Siln gave him a look that made him glad they were in a crowd.
"Then I guess we can excuse the rough treatment, but please refrain from any further reinforcements," Abbair said in a sincere tone. "I now wish to speak directly to you companion. Sir, what is your name."
"About time," Van said. "She hasn't let me say a word for four hours." Siln folded her arms and turned away in disgust. "I, sir, am Pioneer Van Ellen. I left Alpha One when it was still called Earth." There was another audible gasp from the crowd. Van looked around surprised by the reaction. Siln lifted her hands as if to say see what I mean. "I am the person who perfected food unit alcohol. The authorities who were trying to rehabilitate me sold the technology to pay for my care. Subsequently, I am..."
Siln spun and kicked hard.
"Ow! See what I have to live with?" Van said, playing on the sympathy of the crowd.
Siln turned to Abbair and said, "I really think our further conversations should be held in private."
Abbair could guess what Van was about to say and completely agreed that a swift kick was needed in order to prevent it. "Yes, let us retire to my chamber." Abbair rose and beckoned them to follow. Several people also rose but Abbair said, "This will be a private meeting, thank you." The followers all sat down. He led Van and Siln to a room with thick stone walls and heavy doors. They sat down at a polished wood table set with delicate inlay. Abbair said, "Mr. Ellen, what you were about to say was very dangerous. Siln acted properly in order to prevent you from saying it. This may be a safe compound, but in the Dives, there are some things that are never safe. With the tales Taren is spreading, you both probably need protection now. Why don't you tell me what you want?"
Siln laid out her simple plan explaining that is was necessary to take Van. If they came back she would not have credentials but Van probably still would. She said she wanted a place to be reserved for them in case. She would let him know if it would be needed later.
Abbair considered the matter. "Rents have risen dramatically since you left. Our new-found wealth has made us a popular place. We can pick and choose who we want. Since Van is the inventor of food processor alcohol, we can hold a place for him. Could you two stay together?" Abbair asked Van.
"We've been on a ship together for a long time. I've only bled a few times," Van said with a sly look at the fuming Siln.
Abbair said. "I am going to name you Lord Ellen. As a lord, you are under my protection. But, what you do reflects on me so don't screw it up," he said looking at Siln.
They walked back outside to be met by a huge crowd. The crowd erupted into applause when they appeared. Abbair held out his hand to silence the crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen, lords and dames, it is with true honor and pleasure that I introduce to you the inventor of food predecessor alcohol, Lord Ellen."
The announcement sent the crowd into wild cheering. Chants of long live Lord Ellen, and hail, hail ran through the crowd. Van was stupefied. Abbair leaned over to him and said, "Smile and wave."
Van gave a small wave and the crowd erupted again. Abbair said to Van, "Stay close to me." Abbair caught the eye of one of his attendants and made a circular motion. Ten people immediately ran up the steps to encircle them. They began walking through the crowd as a unit. The people were frantic to see or touch Van. He played along and touched as many hands as he could. The knot of people that encircled Abbair, Van, and Siln made their way slowly to a door set in rock. The three of them were pushed inside and the door was slammed shut. The attendants blocked the door and the two windows, while outside the chants and cheers continued unabated.
Abbair plopped down in a chair. "Good grief," he said laughing and fanning his face. "I hope you don't want my job, you are much more popular than I am."
"How long is that going to last?" Siln asked.
"Probably until dinner time. They'll get tired of it eventually. You are going to be mobbed where ever you go, though. I'll leave you three people. Van, you shouldn't go out without Siln. Let her do the talking for you. Siln, your first few outings are going to be more of an audience than anything else. Order your food in. I will take it on faith that you are well able to pay. Siln, you need a title. You can't be a dame because you aren't married. You could be a consort, but that implies an intimate relationship. You could be Lady During, that has a nice ring, but it sounds like you lounge around all day counting unicorns. Maybe chamberlain. You know what that is?" Van and Siln looked at Abbair blankly. "A chamberlain is the chief officer of a nobleman's estate. That fits pretty well. What do you think?"
Siln was kind of partial to Lady During because it sounded so refined, but she could never pull off refined. Chamberlain During was the ticket. "Let's go with chamberlain," she said to Abbair.
"Alright then," he said as he rose. "Lord Ellen, Chamberlain During, I bid you farewell." As he began to open the door he said, "Don't go out for a few hours." When the door opened, a tremendous cheer arose and quickly died. Abbair spoke to the crowd but they couldn't hear what he said. Something like they are tired from their long trip and many trials, blah, blah. The windows were still blocked by Abbair's men.
Siln realized in shock that the apartment she was in was huge. It had two bedrooms, a kitchen, a closet, and a sitting room. Most apartments were a single small room.
"I think you should call me Sir," Van said strutting around the sitting room all puffed up.
"Oh, you are going to be big stuff now that you're famous, aren't you?"
"Yes," Van said with a flourish.
"Well, remember this, Lord Ellen. You are famous in the Dives. This is a place where the best thing you can be is invisible and instead, you are a hero. That makes you a target and they have to go through me to get to you. So, all I can say is thanks a lot for being not just an asshole, but the biggest, the most famous as hole of them all."
Van stuck his hand inside his shirt and said, "You are very welcome," and continued to strut about.
They slept in the same bed that night which was not uncomfortable since their relationship was platonic in the extreme. They were like family. They undressed in front of each other without a thought. They fought without holding a grudge. They could say anything to each other and often did. Three days later Van said, "I have got to get out of here."
"I thought you were never going to say so," said Siln.
"What? Are you shy now? You don't want to tell me we're going outside?" Van teased.
"It's you that's going to get torn to pieces by your fans. Hail Lord Ellen is going to become a hail of Lord Ellen," Siln said, laughing at her own joke before she could get the words out.
They were still bantering as they opened the door. A small crowd of people shouted "Hail Lord Ellen" over and over. The rest of the court was drawn by the noise. A crowd rushed over to get a glimpse. The three men guarding them were entirely overwhelmed. The crowd surged around him and Siln. A woman patted him on the head, asking for his blessing. One woman even tried to get her infant in front of him for a blessing. He finally pushed his way over to a table and got on top of it while Abbair's men tried to restore order.
Van held his hands out and shouted "Good people of New Bedlam." He reached down and pulled Siln up onto the table. "It is with great humility and appreciation that Chamberlain During and I give our thanks for the most gracious welcome you have given us." The crowd roared. "I thank you sincerely and now hope you will accept our thanks and return to those most crucial tasks you perform. It would be a sadness to us if our presence were to cause a disruption to this wonderful place you have built. I am your servant." He bowed low as the crowd applauded and cheered. When the excitement had lessened a bit, he stepped of the table and offered Siln his hand.
Siln jumped off the table and said, "You are really taking this famous shit seriously, aren't you?"
"I was just trying to keep us from getting killed. Pretty good speech, huh?"
"You sounded like a damned politician. I wish they could see you drooling on the floor like I have."
"I'm sure they'll get the chance," Van said as Abbair walked up.
"Hey, good speech," he said. "It said thanks for all the attention but enough is enough. Go back to work. I'm glad you did it."
"They'll find something else to be excited about eventually." Van said.
"I wouldn't count on it for awhile. These people need something to believe in. Right now they believe you are their savior. We need to have a feast in your honor before you go or everyone is going to be seriously disappointed. I don't like it when they get that way," Abbair said with his eyebrows raised. "Let's plan on three weeks from now, it takes some time to get these things organized. We'll need the time to synthesize more alcohol and synth meal. You can announce you are leaving then."
Van was about to answer but Siln cut him off. "Three weeks is okay, but we'll be leaving right after that. What about the idea that Van might not be returning?" she asked.
"I've been thinking about that. I think I'm going to frame it as a quest. They already think you are the White Knight. You are going on a dangerous quest in defense of your loyal Chamberlain. If Siln returns without you, it will be because you fell defending the honor of your friend and companion. Do you think you can handle that, Van?"
"I think so," he said acutely aware that Siln had been left out of the decision. "What do you think, Siln?"
"I don't care what you say as long as we get out of here." Siln walked away making her way through the still lingering crowd.
She walked without thinking about where she was going. The streets no longer felt menacing. Not at all like home, as bad as it had been. She didn't need her fear and anger anymore, it no longer protected her. The thought of losing that which had dominated her entire life left her empty. She felt tired. Tired of fighting. Tired of being mad. Why do I feel this way? she wondered. She was in the lap of luxury, she had nothing to struggle against. She tried to find the root of it. A sour and foul emotion lay deep within her. The bitterness of it stung her eyes. She could taste the acrid, steely hate rising in her throat. Van had received the brunt of it. Why did she treat Van the way she had? She should be treating him as the savior he was. He had been nothing but kind and understanding to her even when she had been beating him. Why was she so mad? She sat on the curb and examined the question. She tried to look at the things that made her stomach knot and twist, made her face contort, made fists lash out. There was a lot there. A life of growing up in hell, constant fear and danger, the loss of the only loves she had ever known. A mother who had done the best she could, but often didn't have time to think of things such as, "I love you". Digging for scraps of food and often not finding them. She was still fighting even though there was nothing left to fight against. Why wasn't she happy? There was only one person to blame. She used to blame everything and everyone else, but now it all came down to her. The only thing making her unhappy was herself. The revelation stunned her and gave her a sudden jolt. She could not raise her baby with hate and anger in her heart. She had to change or she would poison her child with the same sickness that she carried inside. She had to make a change, make herself happy. She cleared her mind and thought I'm happy. It seemed foolish but then again she felt a little better. What about how she felt about herself. There was nothing beneath her, yet she had to find a way to climb above it. I am a happy, good person, she thought. Sure she was. Hadn't she taken care of Van for all this time? She started repeating those words to herself over and over. She felt them getting a toehold inside of her. She rose and walked back to the compound repeating that phrase over and over, believing it a little more each time. She walked back to their apartment, guards still at the door. She walked in to find Van reading a book.
"Look," he said. "A real book."
She walked over to him and pulled him to his feet. She held his hands and said, "You think I can be a happy, good person, don't you?"
Van had never see Siln the way she looked then. She had an earnest, almost desperate, look. "Of course I do. You are a wonderful person. I know you can be happy."
She flung her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. "Thank you. Thank you. I am going to be," she said smiling. "I am going to be happy. Will you help?"
"Well of course I'll help. You want to hear a joke? How about this? A friend of mine said that he had met a man with a wooden leg named Sam. I said Oh, what was the name of his other leg?"
"Oh my God, that's the worst joke I ever heard," she said, but couldn't help laughing. "Van," she said seriously, "I have to be happy. I can't have my little girl and be the way I have been. I can't be angry all the time. I have to be happy." But Van wasn't listening. Van was very far away.
We have entered a stand of ancient trees. The bases of the tall fir trees are enormous, larger than I have ever imagined a tree could be. The bark is thick and weathered. It looks like the wrinkled skin of an immensely old person with long beards of moss hanging from the drooping limbs. The slight breeze fills the air with the playful sound of treetops swaying above. It is a sobering yet joyful sight. The air is heavy with the scent of the forest. Ty stiffens and the horse stops. I think she may have sensed a game animal, but she is not readying her bow. I dismount and go to her side. A contingent of armed elves emerges from behind the massive trees. They are armed with bows and short swords. The thought of an elf warrior wielding a sword is daunting. They approach casually, bows shouldered and swords sheathed. They are all dressed in the same manner as Ty. Not so much as a button's difference.
She is visibly nervous. I have never seen her like this. She has faced great danger with nary a frown. The foremost elf approaches her. They begin speaking in the elf tongue. Their voices merge as a single sound. The words string together with no spaces between. The rise and fall of their speech is like a boat upon the swells of the ocean. His tone is stern. Her replies subdued. He makes several pointed remarks. She hangs her head and speaks softly. They stand silent for long minutes. She speaks in my tongue.
"He is a fine man. He is of spotless character. He will ever strive to aid the elves in anyway he can. If I am not to pass, then allow him to enter."
"No," I shout in desperation. I lunge forward but she blocks me with an outstretched arm.
"He would rather risk death than be parted from you," the foremost elf says. "That speaks well of his courage and character. His heart is true. He may pass. That you love each other cannot be denied. However, the pain and sorrow you have brought about is not small."
I am shocked by the turn this meeting has taken. I don't know what the elf is talking about. The pain and sorrow Ty has brought about? How could my heavenly lover cause any grief? She is a blessing in full.
The lead elf relents. He lets out a deep sigh and says, "Still, it is but a minor sadness in the sea of troubles we have faced. You may enter."
They turn and begin walking. Ty follows them. I look at the horse. She follows Ty. I am leaving my world of the common place for an unknown world of wonder. I step across the border. The forest is transformed immediately upon entering. The ferns shimmer and glisten. The trees that looked stately on the other side now loom as giants. Bird song fills the air with sweet, melodic trills. Brilliant mushrooms seem to spring to life even as we pass. I feel I am floating.
I don't know how long we walk, time seems to pass unmarked. We cross a river that runs clear and fast. Large fish leap out of the water. The ripples their landings create disappear quickly as they move downstream. The elves walk directly to the waters edge. Stone blocks just wide enough to stand upon rise to the surface. The elves file across the slender path while I am considering my impending drowning.
Ty looks back at me to say, "They won't let you fall."
This did not seem a good time to debate the abilities of elves. I step out onto the shiny black rock and am surprised at how firm it feels. I take a few tenuous steps and then walk across the river. I walk perfectly at ease despite my feet being just inches from the racing water. I wonder if that is what its like to be an elf. Supported and steadied by those around you. I feel as though I cannot make a bad step. In this time I feel connected to the throng of elves just beyond. The memories of countless river crossings fill me with confidence. Even the horse follows peacefully.
We leave the river and rise up onto a broad meadow. I have never seen anything as beautiful in my life. The grass is not just green. It is the perfect ideal of green. It is the very definition of green. Butterflies of endless variety whirl around our heads. A large snake of lustrous blue and red scales pauses to regard me. It is completely unconcerned for its safety. I wish the snake good hunting as we pass. Ty turns and smiles at me. We mount a small rise. The bull elk are sparring. The crash and clatter of their enormous antlers sounds as if a battle is raging. The elves continue towards them. Apprehension grips me as I inspect the massive elk, large even for their kind. The animals don't turn to look at us as we pass until I get closer. Every one of the bearded faces turns to look at me. I fill my mind with thoughts of plump cows, endless vistas free of lions, and sweet grass. They return to their contests.
Every good thing lies at our feet. Even the fen is beautiful, alive with frog song and water fowl. I can think of nothing finer than to sit in conversation with the plump mice that scamper about. The look of the land begins to change. We rise from the meadows into a forest of oak trees. The ground is clear and there is no need for a path. The oak trees are so large that the limbs have sagged down to rest upon the ground. A rock cliff looms before us. The face of black rock is imposing, even oppressive. Two monstrous oak trees standing twenty feet apart frame an opening into the mountain. The huge limbs arch over the opening from both sides, appearing to have been a master stroke of arborist artistry performed over hundreds of years.
We are led into a hall of stone carved from the living rock. The ceiling is only high enough to accommodate a tall elf. The walls have been polished to a shine. The room is about twenty feet wide by forty feet deep, not a large hall, not splendid or grand but rather simply adorned. A mat of tightly woven grass covers the floor. I thought the halls of the elves would be a splendor to behold, but this hall is rather plain. I think of the legendary grand halls of the past. They lie in ruin scattered about the country side. The elves have seen them all come and go. Nothing they can construct will outlive them. Perhaps they choose to live simply and not to strive against the predations of time.
The hall is aglow with soft golden light, the source unseen. I try to collect my wits so I might represent myself well. A number of elves are seated upon a slightly raised dais at the rear of the hall. These elves are not dressed in the common fashion. A few are wearing heavy robes that are various tones of gold and yellow. The robes are rather plain except for the rich brocade they sport. Another few are dressed in loose suits of natural colors. Not at all what I expected. I foresaw sumptuous robes of gold and fur. Brilliant colors all about. Many soft cushions and pillows---A court in merriment. Instead I find aged elves sitting on bare stone. We approach the dais and stop. Ty is looking at the floor. I do the same, stealing a few glances at an old elf who has risen. He appears older than time. His weathered face is creased with the tracks of countless years. His eyes are impossibly black. His gaze is penetrating; I can feel him looking into me, through me. I am released as he begins to speak. His speech is soft and fluid. I feel I can almost understand what he is saying. His speech is the burble of water over a slick rock, the wind through the heather. He is citing Ty's history and calling her into account for her shameful actions. I am saddened along with the assemblage. Her fate is to always be two steps from sorrow. It is not myself who is the cause. It is her love for me and her tragic obsession with humans. I am ashamed. I have taken her for myself when I knew the end would be inevitable heartbreak for her. The ancient elf stops and turns to me.
"Do not trouble yourself," he says in human speech, "This sadness is not of your making. You have acted out of love. That is all that may be asked of you. You have chosen to live among us of your own free will. The sacrifice you make has not gone unnoticed. You will live out your life in the company of the one you love. She, however, has transgressed too deeply. She will forever be an outcast. After you leave this world, she will leave this realm."
Ty turns and walks slowly from the hall, her head up. I follow. The magic of the surroundings has lost its luster. I sense she is not of a mind to discuss the events. We walk for miles. We leave the soft forests and rise into scrub. The air is sweet with the smell of blooming heather, but I am no longer entranced. Things have taken a foul turn. Ty would have stopped to comfort me if the situation were anything but dire. I follow her into the rocky brush fields at the feet of the mountains. She finds her way to a high meadow. Tiny strawberries dot the ground. The plants struggle to take root in the arid, sandy soil. Plumes of blowing snow billow from the peaks.
Ty stops walking. She stands with her hands clenched at her side. She turns at last to look upon the beautiful valley below. Flocks of birds swirl in the distance. The sun glistens off the surface of the countless rivers and lakes. The soft pleasures below make our stark surroundings stand out in sharp relief. I can feel Ty sinking. I think she is about to collapse. I grab her by the shoulders and pull her close.
"You have forsaken everything for me," I say, "It is more than I would ever have willingly asked of you. If sorrow be our fate, then let us cling to each other and face it together."
I pull her close. She begins to sob, gently at first. She has lost her battle and succumbs to her sadness. She cries for the loss of her people, for the loss of many loved ones, for the knowledge that she shall never again walk the forest paths of her home. She goes limp I hold her close as we fall to the ground. It has been centuries in coming and now it is torn from her in heaving sobs.
We sit locked together as she cries tears that do not cleanse, do not heal. These are the tears of death.
Siln walked into the sitting room whistling a cheerful tune. Van marveled at her change of character. It seemed as though she had willed herself to be a different person. She no longer insulted or hit him. She didn't have any fits of temper. She had sharply curtailed her drinking. He hoped it lasted.
She stubbed her toe on a chair as she walked into the kitchen. "Ow!" she cried as she hopped on one foot while holding the other. "Oh, man. That hurt," she said. The old Siln would have picked the chair up and smashed it against the wall. She leaned against the wall rubbing her toe. She continued on about the business of making lunch for them both. That was another dramatic change. She did things for him now. Little things like make him lunch. That was very different.
"You know, it's alright to be angry when you stub your toe. It's not healthy to keep everything bottled up inside," Van called from the sitting room.
"What bottled up?" she said. "It was just a stubbed toe. It's fine now." She brought the plate of synth meal to Van and sat down beside him. "The banquet is coming up, what are you going to wear?"
"I thought maybe some armor and a sword."
"I'll put on a maiden's dress so I look like I need saving."
Van laughed at the thought of Siln in a dress.
"What? You don't think I'd look good in a big pink dress with a pointy hat?" she teased.
"Well, no worse than I would look in armor. I don't think they make pot-belly armor anyway," said Van.
"Probably not," she said as she chuckled. She stared at the floor for a moment as her mood turned somber. "We're going to have to go back to the apartment for a few days. I'm going to need a little time to get used to being a topsider again. You know, I think I am going to miss this place," she said.
"You? For some inexplicable reason, I'm not famous topside. Do you think we can correct that?"
"If they found out someone with perfectly good credentials came down here, you would be famous for at least ten minutes for being that crazy."
Van lifted his hands palm up as if weighing two things. "Adored, abhorred. Adored, abhorred. Tough choice."
The truth of the matter was that he did actually prefer life under ground. He had spent so many years on space ships that he was uncomfortable in the open. The open sky made him feel exposed and vulnerable. He would never tell Siln that, though. He would stick with her where ever she needed to go.
He seldom lapsed into fantasy while underground. He believed the surroundings and wonderful people lessened the likelihood he would. He had spent some time working with the primitive food processor that Abbair's guards protected. It took a lot of assurances from Siln to convince Abbair that Van wouldn't break the thing. He managed to get some basic medicines out of the food unit. The medical functions were not enabled and even the library was stunted. Van believed it may have previously been on a big ship where medical functions were centralized. He had been able to produce aspirin and an antiseptic ointment. These two things had elevated him from revered to worshipped. He had to reassure Abbair that he had absolutely no political aspirations. All he needed were some medical chemical definitions and a chemical analysis scanner, and he could probably produce more. He felt bad about abandoning these people when he could do so much for them. Abbair had begun to forge an alliance with the Disruptors to supply them with medications free of charge. That was going over very well. That gave Abbair a large army in essence. Van believed a few more alliances like that would make Abbair a true king.
The day of the big banquet arrived at last. Van and Siln tried to act casual, but they were both excited. Van and Siln chose matching suits. They looked the part of people leaving on a mission. Late in the afternoon they were escorted to the main hall. They were still escorted everywhere as a throng of people appeared as soon as either of them poked their heads out of the door. A tremendous cheer rose up when they entered the hall. Van and Siln took their place at the head of the table. Another cheer erupted when Abbair entered. The security patrol gently pushed the crowd back. The main table was for the very important people. Representatives of many levels were in attendance. They were dressed in the distinctly varied manners common to their own levels. New Bedlam was not the largest or the most powerful level in the Dives, but it was certainly the wealthiest. The recent alliance with the Disruptors had vastly improved the security of New Bedlam. The Disruptors occupied a level entirely devoted to the maintenance of their huge army. Their sole purpose was to engage the Forces and defeat them in battle. They were more successful than was admitted to by the topsider administration. They were absolutely the most powerful force in the Dives.
A hush fell over the crowd when Abbair rose to speak. "Citizens of New Bedlam, honored guests, and brave Disruptors; welcome to my table," he said in a loud, clear voice. "We join together in this place to honor two people who have brought us prosperity and health, Sir Ellen and Chamberlain During." Thunderous applause and cheering filled the room. Once the room was quiet again he continued. "Through the efforts of these two miraculous saviors, our society has risen to historic heights." It seemed his every sentence would now be cause for cheering. "Blessed is the day they came to us. It shall be a holiday which I now proclaim Lord Ellen day." There was another prolonged pause for cheers. "Now let us be merry and celebrate our collective good fortune."
Food and drink were brought to the tables. Trays of food were circulated through the crowd. Alcohol was somewhat limited due to production capabilities but there was enough for everyone to have a cup. That was a real treat as alcohol was extremely valuable and not within reach for common people. The hall became a roar of conversation and laughing. Delegations from several levels were toasted and treated well. It seemed a new era of friendship and cooperation was dawning and everyone credited Van for it. The time for Van's address came. It came as a surprise to Siln when he turned and asked her if she was coming or not. Van considered them a team, a single unit. Without each other, they were nothing.
Van stood up to thunderous applause. The assembly went absolutely wild. Van and Siln stood on the dais trying not to look sheepish. It appeared the noise would not abate for some time so Van raised a hand. The crowd quickly fell silent.
"Good people of New Bedlam, esteemed delegations, and valiant Disruptors. The honor you bestow on the two of us is humbling and received with the greatest gratitude." It became quickly obvious to Van that his every sentence would also be greeted with a cheer. He had to raise his hands again to silence the crowd. "I come to you tonight to announce that the Chamberlain and I are to embark on a quest." This time there was little cheering. "Even though it grieves us, we must leave you now for a matter of the utmost concern and peril to the Chamberlain." An audible gasp rose up. Oh, jeeze, thought Van, this is going to be worse than I thought. "Even though we leave you to face great peril, I pledge to you that I shall return." At this, the crowd was heartened and cheered enthusiastically. The shocked Siln turned to Van in disbelief. He stared straight ahead to avoid her eyes. "It may be a long time before I return. Events may overtake me. However, I promise you this: as long as I breathe I shall keep you in my heart and ever strive to return." With that he thrust a fist into the air and the crowd exploded. Van took his seat while the crowd roared its approval. Siln turned to Van with a look of deep concern. "You will return? How are you going to do that, Van? Leave me with no credentials in the same fix I was in when I left the first time?"
Van turned to her and said, "I love you like a sister. I will never leave you unless you are safe. I will not ask you to come back with me and I will not leave until you are holding your daughter and your credentials are secure."
Siln started to cry and collapsed against his chest. The crowd around them began murmuring. Van turned to them and said, "She grieves for leaving you, as do I." That seemed to mollify them.
Siln began to chuckle. She lifted her head to look at him and said, "You are so full of shit."
The rest of the evening was subdued. There were a lot of questions about where they were going and what they were going to do. Van would only tell them that it was a matter of great importance to the Chamberlain and his honor hung on a pledge he had made to her. That wasn't a very good explanation but it was all he would say. At last Van and Siln rose to leave and were followed by a cheering throng all the way to their apartment.
The next day was somber. The crowd outside their apartment consisted mostly of people crying, but the crowd thinned to just a few later in the evening. Abbair entered their apartment on the second night. Siln and Van were taken aback. Abbair summoned people to his palace, he didn't go calling.
"Please excuse the breach of protocol. People might think you were about to leave if I summoned you. There might be a riot. For the last two days I have had a crew tunneling through the two apartments next door to you." Siln and Van look perplexed. "Yes, they have been very quiet so as to not raise suspicions. They will open the tunnel into this room and you shall escape unseen. A squadron of Disruptors will escort you to the surface and further if you like. The tunnel will be ready tonight. When do you want to leave?"
"Tonight," Siln said without any hesitation.
Van gave her a look but decided there was no use in waiting.
Abbair looked at Van and said, "Okay then, the tunnelers will break through as soon as possible and the Disruptors will be ready. Farewell and good luck."
Abbair left and disappeared into the thinning crowd. Van and Siln made ready. They didn't have much to take. There was practically nothing that would not look out of place above. Late in the night there was a faint scraping and a small hole appeared in the wall. An eye appeared and a voice said, "Ready?"
Siln walked to the hole and said, "Yes."
The hole got larger quickly. When it was just big enough to crawl through, the voice said, "Lets go."
They went through into the next apartment. A larger hole led into the second apartment. Both apartments were furnished. Van wondered how Abbair got the people that lived in them to move. They exited the apartment to face ten grim Disrupters. They were armed to the teeth and outfitted in full battle gear. The armed group fanned out and began walking in a crouched position, heads scanning side to side. Van couldn't understand it since there was an entire squadron guarding the entrance and the town was as safe as could be. The troops insisted on stealth so they crept along quietly. When they reached the front of the New Bedlam level, the guards rushed out with guns pointing in every direction. They burst out and met a couple rising from one of the lower levels. The couple let out a horrified scream. The Disruptors quieted them and suggested they continue their journey later. The couple was very agreeable to the suggestion. Van and Siln were ushered out to the stairway with ten soldiers ahead and ten behind. Siln thought the exercise was silly and said so. An officer who personally guarded them replied that there were probably a thousand people that would die to get their hands on the two of them. Oh yeah, Siln remembered, famous. Siln became much more alert as they mounted the top level. One by one they filed out of the tin-covered exit.
The platoon leader said, "We can take you further. That could be hazardous. We can send a single soldier. Or, we can let you go."
It was a tough choice. Twenty Disruptors going to the surface would not go unnoticed. On the other hand, the two of them were valuable property and could have been followed. Siln and Van decided a single escort would be best. The second in command stepped forward and said he was ready to serve. The rest of the platoon disappeared down the stairs. Van and Siln looked at each other, both feeling exposed. The disruptor said, "I will take the point." He slowly poked his head out of the door looking both directions. He signaled them to follow as he crept out of the door. Siln told the disruptor where they were headed as they crouched in the shadows. The rest of the trip was nerve-wracking. They covered every foot as if a fire fight would break out. Van and Siln changed into their topsider clothes when they reached the warehouse. The soldier guarded them all the while. They wrapped their diver clothes in the paper they had left behind. They told the soldier they would be safe from there. The soldier said that he would follow in the shadows for a few blocks. Van decided it wouldn't hurt but warned the soldier not to place himself in danger since he and Siln had a real advantage on the top side.
The soldier said, "Thank you, sir. You are as kind as you are storied to be. I will follow for a bit and then turn back."
The soldier stuck his head out of the secret exit. He waved Van and Siln forward. They ducked out through the hole and were magically transformed. Siln felt as if she was a worm that had cast off its skin to become a butterfly. She stretched to dry her silvery wings in the sun. There was no one else on Alpha One who knew what it was like to move between the two worlds. One life dark, the other light. She had almost taken wing when she stepped from the warehouse. The lightness lifted her up, carried her as if on a breeze. The world below her feet was a dreamscape of endless possibilities. Siln would not give in to her fears. They were behind her. She might face new fears, but she would never again be haunted by the past. She and Van chatted as they walked at a leisurely pace. Two perfect topsiders out for an evening stroll. A few blocks later they passed a Forces detail. Van said, "Good evening!" as if he were happy to see them. He hoped to detain them a bit with conversation but they were having none of it. He and Siln continued on as if nothing were amiss. They decided that the Disrupter following them must have turned back. They walked up to the apartment and collapsed on the couch.
"Man, I feel worse up here than I did down there," Van said.
"It took me a while to get used to the top side. You'll adjust to it in a bit. I'm going to bed, are you going to be okay?" Siln asked as she rose and walked to her bedroom.
"Oh, sure," Van said but he wasn't sure. He didn't know if anything would be okay again. He didn't think he could live a contented life up here while thousands of people suffered below. He sat staring into space until the tension of the trip faded into fatigue and then to exhaustion. He went to bed and dreamt of low tunnels and rock rooms. He woke up twice with nightmares. Each time discontent crowded his conscience a little more.
Both Siln and Van were pensive through the following days. Van because of the inner conflict he felt about leaving the underground, Siln because of the uncertainties surrounding her planned meeting. Siln thought to call Christor, but chose instead to walk to the door and announce herself. She would watch the place for a couple of days and wait until her girl was out of the house. Christor would hopefully be alone. Siln thought she might just write if there appeared to be another woman.
One day Van stood and faced Siln. He said, "Don't you think it's time?"
Siln looked at him searching for some hint of the future. Then she rose to face her fears. "I guess so. Here's what I plan to do."
The plan was simple. Van and Siln would take turns watching the place in an effort to avoid suspicion. When they thought they had the routine down, Siln would go to the door while Van waited in a glider. They would head for the Townsend River if things got dicey. The river flowed underground to within a half a mile of the Dives. The plan was dangerous. They had no way of knowing if they could make it through the water system. They decided to throw an empty liquid container into the river and see if it came out the other end, a hazardous job in its own right. Siln wasn't sure what they would tell the Forces if they asked what was going on. They calculated how long it would take a floating object to travel the distance based on a small flow test. One morning before dawn they drove to the site and quickly tossed the container into water. They drove to the other end slowly so as to use up time. A half an hour later the container floated by. That was good enough for them.
Their surveillance techniques were crude. They simply parked the glider and watched the house. Three days later they had a plan. At ten in the morning, one hour after the little girl had left for instruction, Siln walked to the door and raised her hand to knock. She saw all her possibilities fly before her. Everything she had done and been. Everything she could do or be. All distilled into a moment, this moment. She took a deep breath and knocked three times.
The door opened. Before her stood a somewhat older and timeworn Christor. She couldn't find the words to speak. All her carefully rehearsed lines were forgotten. Christor waited for the woman before him to speak. A sudden flash of recognition went across his face. Then, stunned amazement.
"Siln!" he cried as he grabbed her hands and pulled her in. "Siln. Oh my God, Siln." He started to cry. He grabbed her up and spun her in circles.
Siln was transported. Of all the possible outcomes, this was the one she had not dared to dream. Lifted from the horrid purgatory of the last tens years to fly before the gates of heaven. The center of the world lay at their feet. Her sins were cast from her as she spun around the tiny, perfect world. There were no words for it, the state of grace that enveloped her then. She knew that she would never live in darkness again. The light that shone through her would never die. She had won.
Outside, Van wasn't sure what to make of the situation. He hadn't seen the man's face, only Siln getting jerked inside. Their planning hadn't accounted for her disappearance. He decided that if he deviated from the plan, she would kill him regardless of the outcome.
Siln's blissful orbit came to a halt. She watched Christor intently to hear his next words.
Christor released his bear hug and pulled her to the couch. "What are you doing here?" he asked desperately. "Why did you leave me?"
She told him everything, all of it. She pulled no punches. She drug him through the sewers, riddled him with fear and desperation, detailed deprivations beyond his understanding. Atrocities and aberrations. Cruelties, petty and vast. Hearing it from her own mouth, she couldn't believe she had survived. It seemed old Sam was right. Her mother had given her what she needed in order to survive. She came at last to her association with Van and the restoration of her credentials. Finishing up, she added, "So I came back to you. I didn't know if you wanted to see me. I was afraid you didn't ever want to see me again." She hung her head and awaited his judgment.
Christor took some time. It was a lot to absorb in just a few minutes. Ten years of being a single parent. Ten years of hoping that the one you love will someday walk through the door takes its toll. "I never married," he began. "I lived for the hope that you would come back, always knowing in my heart you never would. I told Silna that her mother loved her but had to leave. I told her that her mother would come back someday. I knew it was just a fairy tale I told myself to get through the days. Now the fairy tale has come true. Will it have a happy ending? Are you going to stay?"
Siln's wildest dreams were coming true. All the pain and loneliness were worth it. It all led her back to him and her daughter. Sitting there looking into Christor's expectant face, it all seemed worthwhile. She would do it all over again just for this perfect moment. She saw the gates of heaven open. She was a placid lake, its surface undisturbed by the breeze. She was wholly at peace for the first time in her life. She said calmly, quietly, "Yes, Christor, I'm staying."
The next several days were dizzying. Silna was overjoyed that her mother had returned, but more than a little angry at the long absence. It took some careful explanations to tell all the reasons without telling too much. In the end, everyone just decided to accept the happiness of the situation. Van became an uncle. Silna loved Uncle Van, thinking him to be oddly old fashioned. Silna loved the stories about Alpha One in the old days. She laughed when he told her that people went to stores and bought food. Then they cooked it on a thing called a stove. "Eww", Silna said, "Did it smell?" Van said that it only smelled bad if it was cooked it wrong, otherwise it smelled very good. She was suspicious upon hearing that paper books and toilet paper were common. She decided that the past had been a dark and backward time. Van agreed.
There was the matter of preserving Siln's credentials in spite of her past. Having a baby out of wedlock was a crime. Having the baby of a topsider was also a crime. In the end they settled on the ruse that Siln had a twin sister. Since Siln and her mother were undocumented to begin with, it was possible there had been a twin. Some rudimentary DNA tests indicated the story could not be disproved. They told how Siln's flight from the planet had been born of grief by the simultaneous death of both her mother and sister. Siln had returned to Alpha One to care for her niece as she had promised her dying sister she would, as the story went. The Forces chose to believe the story, implausible as it was. Everyone was greatly relieved. There was no real interest in persecuting them anyway. The Forces weren't in the business of performing lineage analysis and Human Management didn't have anything to gain by removing the little girl from her happy home. In the end, it all just went away.
One sunny day many months later Van came to Siln and said, "Siln, I've been doing some work on my credential status. I have requested to be unlinked from you due to my improving prognosis and your bad attitude."
"What?" Siln cried.
"No, just kidding. I told them I can be independent now that my health has returned. I also told them that I wanted the same for you since you have been such a good care provider. They said yes, Siln."
It is an irony I cannot yet fathom. Of all outcomes, this was never imagined. I sit in our mountain home, a home we built together, staring out across the valley. Legions of elves abide in the valley below. They live in peaceful dreams among the towering trees. The water flows like music, soft and sweet. Song birds sing the praises of their treasured realm. In the valley below it is eternally spring. To live there is to know bliss. Such was not our fate.
Time has been kind to me. Ty said the elves had granted me many long years in consideration of the many services I have performed in our mountains. There is work aplenty. There are fields of flowers to tend. The rocky ledges of the eagle aeries must be secured. The dens of the burrowing animals must be kept clear. I am endlessly employed. It is a blessing to fill my time with such labors.
I had no way of knowing what our journey to the elf realm meant for Ty. Our meeting at the border of their lands was tense, uncomfortable. Not at all how I expected Ty to be greeted. The council pronounced Ty's exile to the high mountains and she cried. I came to realize that crying is not at all elf-like. Not at all in the extreme. The tearful collapse Ty suffered in the high meadow bore her across the divide that she had traversed for so many years. The divide between human and elf. Her link with the elf kingdom had been shattered. She began to age. Slowly at first, but then apace. As I became more elf-like, she became more human. She began to tire. The shunning she suffered had taken an essential part of her. She had given up eternity for me, and I had taken it from her.
I sometimes hear the elves far below singing the tragic tale of our love. It is heart-wrenching. The sorrow of the elves is beyond the ken of humans. There is no end to it, it is eternal. It is a difficult thing to grasp, eternity. It is not just a very, very long time; it is all of time. The elves' burden increases as the ages pass. They carry with them the memories of pains suffered countless centuries ago. Hurt upon hurt. That is why elves are a somber people. Perhaps they were a merry race when the world was young, but no more. I now share their grief with them. I too, it seems, shall bear eternal sorrow.
That was why Ty was an outcast. It wasn't because of me. It didn't have anything to do with humans. They spurned her because her suffering was increased with the death of each human mate. There was no time to mourn the first when a second would pass, then another, then another. They couldn't endure the constant pain. They didn't expel her because they disapproved. They did it because the pain was simply too great. The song of her fall is the tale of a damaged heart searching through time for a love that would sustain her, only to find bitterness and sorrow at every turn. There is no end to it.
Our mountains are clear. The snow-capped peaks are radiant against the brilliant blue sky. The eagle I know as Kee soars high above. It would be beautiful and perfect were it not for the sorrow. I sit in our mountain home, a home we built together, staring out across the valley, alone.
"By all accounts, High Lord and Prophet Van Ellen was four hundred eighty-five years old when he passed to another time and place. His remarkable longevity has been attributed to his protracted stay in a sleep unit early in his life. That, however, is not what the people of New America believe. They believe that he was given long life in order to achieve the miracles that he bestowed upon us all.
High Lord and Prophet Van Ellen began his life's work in the year 2627. That was the year he entered the underground city of New Bedlam, as it was then called, and began transforming their society. High Lord and Prophet Van Ellen was a master chemical engineer, but not by training. He taught himself to build miracles from mud. He was a consummate medical systems engineer, but not by training. He taught himself how to build life saving medicines from the cold rock around him.
In the year 2628, High Lord and Prophet Van Ellen brought to New America a glider full of equipment and a library of chemical definitions. That was all it took to reverse two hundred years of misfortune and misery, one small glider of equipment and a handful of library records. With these few tools, he began working to give the people of the underground the things that they had so sorely lacked for so long.
High Lord and Prophet Van Ellen could have rested, but he was not satisfied to rest while others suffered. High Lord and Prophet Van Ellen led a diplomatic mission to all of the underground in the year 2629. This mission required the greatest of skills and the utmost bravery. The progress was slow and grueling, but in the end the underground was united. High Lord and Prophet Van Ellen spread his blessings among all people regardless of their status. The high and the low of all levels were his charge. He carried his miracles from the foul pits to the exalted heights.
High Lord and Prophet Van Ellen never accepted a political position. He could have become emperor, but he chose to remain among the people. He could have lived in grand palaces but he instead kept a modest apartment on a side street in New Bedlam. He was revered by all the underground, but was most beloved by the common people he served. He was known to bring the sick and destitute into his own house. He would personally administer his blessings to those without means.
Perhaps his greatest work was undertaken in the year 2712. In that year, he led a small delegation to the surface to parlay with the Credentialed Citizenry. High Lord and Prophet Van Ellen was a credentialed citizen himself. He could have stayed above ground and lived a life of ease, but he came to the underground instead. Therefore, he was uniquely qualified to undertake the Unity Mission because, even though it was death for a citizen of the underground to go above ground, there was no law against a credentialed citizen going below ground. It was inconceivable that any credentialed citizen would willingly go below ground, but that is exactly what High Lord and Prophet Van Ellen did.
The initial negotiations were discouraging, but there was never a task High Lord and Prophet Van Ellen abandoned because it was difficult. High Lord and Prophet Van Ellen convinced the Credentialed Citizenry that the swelling power beneath their feet was a threat they would have to match with diplomacy rather than force. That led to the first ever Credentialed Citizenry envoy to the underground. The effect was stunning, to put it mildly. The officials from the Credentialed Citizenry were shocked to find the thriving civilization below ground. They were equally as shocked by the display of military power that was arranged for their benefit.
Negotiations were begun in earnest after that. The Citizenry asked High Lord and Prophet Van Ellen what his demands were. In his typical fashion, he replied that he had no demands. He said that he did have some suggestions that might improve things. That set the tone for the next several years of talks. The end, you all know. The penal system was reformed. Small crimes are no longer subject to expulsion but rather to a credential suspension. Those exiled to New America found a system that is stern but not harsh. Those who can be productive are accepted into their society. It is still not unusual for a person sentenced to a term below ground to remain there at the end of their term. Those who cannot accept a sentence in New America are faced with a temporary expulsion to Black Water. Still, they are cared for even in a place of terrible cold and darkness.
The management of the underground has become a cooperative undertaking. The underground has become a rehabilitation facility from whence people might return to the surface. Word of the changes taking place underground made their way to the surface. The spirit of cooperation and compassion spread through the population. The prejudice and discrimination that had plagued the underground for so many years began to subside.
High Lord and Prophet Van Ellen negotiated an arms accord and a non-aggression pact between the Forces and the underground army. The Disruptors, as they were once called, were brought into the Forces hierarchy and charged with maintaining order below ground.
It is hard to imagine that once upon a time, before High Lord and Prophet Van Ellen came to the underground, chaos ruled, violence was common place, misery and deprivation were the order of the day, and people were sentenced to lives that we not now put upon a dog.
There is no honor we could possibly bestow upon High Lord and Prophet Van Ellen that is equal to his deeds. He probably would not accept them anyway. All we can do is thank God for the unlikely series of events that sent him to us, and pray that he rests in peace."
As the uniformed man stepped away from the dais, a monstrous crowd roared. The funeral of High Lord and Prophet Van Ellen would be followed by days of mourning. A national holiday commemorating his birth would be announced. Scores of hospitals, libraries, government buildings, and parks would be named after him.
Meanwhile, in a quiet suburb on a quiet street in a cozy house, two small children watched the proceedings on the holoview. They didn't have a choice; it was the only thing on every feed. They lay on their stomachs, chins propped up by hands, feet swinging lazily back and forth.
"Isn't that the man Great-Grandmother Silna told us about?" said a perfectly beautiful little blond girl.
"I don't know," said the cherub-like boy.
"Rescue one, Mars Base"
"Pioneer ten-seventeen has been located."
"Good news, Rescue One. Is there a survivor?"
"Yes sir. Pioneer Van Ellen was found in a state of altered suspended animation in the hibernation unit. The ship experienced a micro-puncture approximately two years into the mission. Automated systems sealed the breach but the hibernation unit was damaged. The hull breach protocol processor initiated the reanimation sequence, but sequence did not complete because of the damage. His synaptic functions became altered. His resulting condition has never been observed before and we are at a loss as to how to proceed. There is a great deal of brain activity, but we do not believe he knows where he is. The best description we can come up with is a semi-conscious, dream-like state characterized by extreme awareness of sensory functions. We think he is dreaming. Mr. Ellen went into convulsions when we attempted to execute the reanimation sequence. The Medical Officer thinks we should tow the ship back to Mars Base with Pioneer Ellen maintained in his present state. Other than that, his health is fairly good."
"Does the Medical Officer have an opinion regarding Pioneer Ellen's potential for a full recovery?"
"Attempts to phase Pioneer Ellen out of suspended animation did not alter his brain functions at all. The medical Officer believes restoring Pioneer Ellen to full consciousness will require years of research and may not be possible at all. In addition to that, he may remain in that state for a protracted amount of time because his bodily functions are still in hibernation."
"Roger, Rescue One. Not the best news, but at least he survived. I will propose that the ship be taken to Earth and the hibernation unit installed in a medical research facility. Maybe they can figure it out. When will you start the return trip?"
"Pioneer Ten-Seventeen is ship-shape and space-worthy. It is as clean as the day it lifted off. The logs are completely uneventful except for the puncture. We will start back as soon as the tow unit is installed. I'll contact you before we enter suspended animation. I hope we don't get what Pioneer Ellen got. God only knows what he is dreaming about."
"Roger that, Rescue one!"
There is nothing in the universe more appealing to male humans than the sight of an Aolian woman. Their form is exquisite, every one is the perfect ideal woman incarnate. Their beautiful blue skin glistens and changes hue in subtle ways. Slanted eyes flirt and beckon. They are open and inviting in every way. There is something about human men that entices them. Thankfully, their reproductive methods are similar enough to be compatible with humans, but in a uniquely sensuous way.
I turn from my labors over my deficient thrusters to be graced by a vision of desire. I am stunned and speechless. She leads me to her den. The walls are made of native soil that has been somehow polished. The smell is earthy and intoxicating. Warm yellow light emanates from fluorescent crystals in the ceiling. We go to her bed in the rear of the cave. Her bed is made of thick, soft moss and is covered with silky blankets woven of lavender Aolian hair.
She wraps her long, spidery fingers around my head and pulls my face to hers. Her skin feels like satin. The fine scales covering her body are smooth and cool. The erotic look of her light blue face with its finely-featured details and pouty lips are intoxicating. I give myself up to her.
About the Author
Dave Gordon lives in rural Western Oregon on the edge of the great Pacific Northwest forests. Mr. Gordon has been a firefighter, a scientific researcher, a carpenter, and a network administrator. He is now a full-time writer enjoying the temperate climate of the rainy Willamette Valley.
Visit www.mysticmoonpress.com for information on additional titles by this and other authors.

