A Dubious Peace

by Olan Thorensen

  Wyfor led them to a second-story room with a large table surrounded by chairs and no other furniture or decorations. There were no guards inside the room, but four stood in the hall near the door they had been led through. Mark looked out the window several times to see half a dozen guards in view. The three women sat near one end of the table. Alys and Onyla played a game only they seemed to understand. Mark sat when they first arrived but had been pacing the last thirty minutes, not noticing as Allyr mirrored his movements on the other side of the room.

  Everyone was doing something, pacing, talking, or playing, but only the two youngest were oblivious to the tension gripping the older occupants. Thus, when they heard a sharp rap on the door, two of the women emitted startled cries. Only Heather was silent. She gripped the edges of the table with both hands, her fingers turning white from the pressure. Mark whirled on his heels to face the door, and Allyr followed suit after seeing Mark’s reaction.

  The door opened, and the man named Storlini entered. “Mark Kaldwel, if you would please accompany us.”

  “Just me, or all of us?”

  “Only you . . . for now.”

  Mark walked over to Maghen and put a hand on her shoulder. “There’s nothing to worry about. Maybe they’re just going to ask me more questions. They might do the same for the rest of you later. Probably doing it alone so they can check our answers against one another’s. If they do question you alone, just tell the truth about everything.”

  He followed Storlini, with three of the four guards falling in behind.

  Only leaving one guard to watch the others? thought Mark. Guess that confirms how they view me.

  That realization was both bracing and disappointing.

  They took a short walk to a different room from where they had questioned him earlier. Storlini opened the door and stood aside for Mark. He entered the room two steps and stopped. It was two or three times the size of the other rooms on this floor and was completely furnished with a large desk, a window table, and multiple chairs of a different design—most of them fully or partially cushioned. Whereas the other rooms’ floors consisted of plain planking, this room’s floor was made of finely grained, russet-colored wood from a different tree. The walls and the ceiling were of yet another wood, tawny-colored and thicker grained.

  Mark’s wife on Earth, Jocelyn, had had a never-ending urge to upgrade their house’s furniture. Despite his lack of interest, enough of her criteria for high-quality furniture had dribbled through his inattention, allowing him to recognize that the furniture in this room would have sent her into spasms of envy.

  All his observations about the room took only a few seconds, then receded into insignificance. He compared the room’s occupants. Four men stood. Mark had experienced enough violence in the last year to have a honed sense of men who were accustomed to danger—all four men qualified. Hetman Preddi and Wyfor Kales stood at the front corners of the desk. Mark had met them the day he’d arrived on Caedellium, and he’d already assessed them. A third man stood behind the straight-backed wooden chair, facing the desk. The man was roughly the same height and physique as the hetman, but he reminded Mark of men he had avoided in the seamier sections of the Landylbury harbor in Frangel.

  The fourth standing man was actually the first one Mark had noticed—as the man almost certainly would be in any gathering. The flaming red hair and beard only accentuated his size, which Mark quickly estimated as several inches taller than his own 6’3”. The man’s bulk had to go well over 300 pounds, none of it suggesting flab. Mark had become accustomed to believing he could handle any man, one on one, and, if necessary, thought he could come out on top against two or three average men. It was somewhat disconcerting when he sensed the redhead was in a different category.

  Mark’s perusal of the standing men lasted four seconds before his gaze settled on the man seated behind the large desk. He was dressed in brown trousers and a white pullover shirt with a drawstring under the throat. Both the man and the clothing showed evidence of recent travel. He had brown hair and beard, both of which had lighter streaks. Even from where Mark stood near the room’s door, he perceived the seated man’s eyes to be an unusually light blue or gray—eyes that stared intently at Mark.

  Kolsko, thought Mark. Is this Yozef Kolsko or yet another intermediary?

  “Please sit here, Ser Kaldwel,” said Storlini, indicating the straight-backed chair facing the desk.

  Mark complied. Storlini went to stand behind the desk and beside the hulk.

  “So . . . you say your name is Mark Kaldwel,” stated the seated man. “And you came to Caedellium with a message for the Paramount.”

  “Yes . . . I’m Mark Kaldwel, and, yes, I have a message from the Buldorian leadership they asked I give directly to Yozef Kolsko.”

  “I suppose we can get to the message later, but first let’s discuss your claim that you’re from a place called Amerika. I’m afraid that’s something you’ll have to convince me of because I’m Yozef Kolsko, and I know I’m from Amerika.”

  All of Mark’s cautious wondering jelled into brighter hope than he had expected. “If you’re from the United States, then you should understand me. What’s your real name?”

  The five standing men showed various degrees of puzzlement, whereas Yozef Kolsko smiled and leaned back in his chair. Mark Kaldwel’s statement and question were in English.

  “My original name is Joseph Colsco. When I got here, the first people I met had trouble pronouncing my first name. Yozef was as close as they could get to Joseph. I didn’t bother trying to correct them then or later, so I just stayed Yozef.”

  Yozef then spoke aloud to the other men in Caedelli without taking his eyes off Kaldwel. “He speaks English, the language of my people in America. I’m going to ask him a few questions to confirm or refute Wyfor’s possibility that he’s not from Amerika but got information from someone who is. We’ll be doing this in English, so be patient.”

  He switched back to English. “It’s not much of a guess that your name didn’t change much. Mark Kaldwel . . . Mark Caldwell. Sounds the same whether in English or Caedelli. Do you remember details of how you got here?”

  Mark smiled. “United Flight 4382 or 28. I’m not sure which one. Aisle seat 28C. How about you?”

  “Well . . . this is a little weird,” said Yozef. “I was 28A. Seems a bit of a coincidence we were in the same row only a seat apart.”

  “All depends on how many survivors there were. Maybe the aliens rescued everyone.”

  “Possible,” conceded Yozef. “You remember who sat between us?”

  Mark shrugged. “A teenage girl. Maybe fifteen to seventeen years old. Maybe Hispanic. No idea about her name. We never spoke, except the usual pleasantries, but I had to step into the aisle so she could take her seat. I remember you, though. A nerdy-looking guy, mid to late twenties, spent much of the flight doing something on a laptop. Girl tried talking to you, but you said you had work to do.”

  Mark’s eyes left Yozef’s face and roamed over what he saw from the waist up. “You look different now. A little more bulk to you. Was it what the aliens did that muscled you up?”

  “Could be one of two things they did to me and I assume to you. One would be the nano elements they gave us. What’s the other one?”

  “The gene engineering on our mitochondria. They said it would give us a little more energy to compensate for the slightly higher gravity on this planet versus Earth.” Mark crossed his legs. “I take it we’re going to go back and forth with alien spaceship and Earth trivia until we’re convinced the other is who he says he is. I’ll go first. Who were the two leads in Titanic?”

  Yozef laughed. “Leonardo DiCaprio and . . . hell, her name slips by me right now. How about the Patriots quarterback?”

  “Tom Brady. Saints quarterback?”

  “Drew Brees. I’m from San Diego. How about you?”

  “Originally Colorado, but I moved around a lot after growing up. Last few years I lived in Reston,
Virginia, near DC. If you’re from San Diego, what’s the local football team?”

  “Depends on if you’re talking college or pro. There’s the San Diego State Aztecs, and there used to be the Chargers until they moved to Los Angeles. How about this one? If you’re from near Washington, what’s the baseball team called?”

  “The Nationals,” said Mark, “but do you know the name of the previous professional baseball team in Washington?”

  “I’ll assume it wasn’t either the Democrats or the Republicans.”

  “No, but that’s not far off. They were the Senators.”

  “Can’t say I followed sports all that much,” said Yozef. “I was more into nerdy stuff. You know, video games, computers, things like that. Did you ever play the video game Line of Duty?

  “Can’t say I heard of that one. I rarely played video games, and only then with relatives during visits. However, I do remember that Call of Duty was very popular.”

  They both laughed again, Mark uproariously and Yozef with a hysterical edge.

  “Thought I might catch you on that one,” Yozef said.

  For the next seven minutes, they bounced questions and answers back and forth. Some questions were so esoteric that knowing the correct answer brought on exclamations.

  “The next line in a song from the one that goes, ‘So they tanned his hide when he died, Clyde,’” said Yozef, confident of the song’s obscurity.

  “And that’s it hangin’ on the shed!” roared Mark.

  “No way! How the hell did you know that one?”

  “I had a cousin who loved that stupid song. He’d sing it endlessly if we were doing chores together on his or my family’s ranches. How about you?”

  “It was on one of the cards in a trivial question game . . . maybe Trivial Pursuit, but I’m not sure. Me and my sisters played it enough that we knew all the answers in the version of the game we had.”

  Mark cupped both hands to his mouth and produced a series of deep, belly “umpah” sounds.

  “And play your didgeridoo, blue!” sang Yozef. He then stood up and walked quickly past an amused Carnigan to hold out a hand. Yozef and Mark shook, then spontaneously reached out and hugged.

  “That’s it. I’m convinced. I need to switch back to Caedelli before the others think everyone from America sings and is insane.”

  “Too bad we don’t have Heather in here,” said Mark. “She’s got a nice voice. We could do a mean trio.”

  “Heather?” asked Yozef, squinting. “Who’s that?”

  CHAPTER 4

  WHO’S HEATHER?

  Mark stared silently at Yozef for several seconds. “Heather. Don’t tell me you don’t know. About Heather Chen? Her seat was 23E. She’s in the other room.”

  Yozef tumbled back several steps until he leaned against the desk.

  “I guess that means you didn’t know about her.”

  Yozef shook his head to stop the whirling from yet another revelation.

  “She? A woman? From Earth? Holy shit! I was used to there being only me . . . and now three of us? Did the two of you end up in the same place and not alone like me?”

  “Not hardly. How we met will take some explanation.”

  “Well, I definitely want to hear the story, but I guess telling me that little piece of information slipped Balwis’s mind. However, I do need to assure the others you’re not here to assassinate me.”

  “I figured it must be something like that,” said Mark. “You know, with all the guards.”

  “I think Balwis said you speak Caedelli . . . at least with a bad accent. But he said you came from Frangel? There’s got to be several stories there, but for now, if we speak Caedelli, are you going to understand?”

  Mark nodded. “I think I do pretty good. Besides Frangelese being obviously related to Caedelli, we had intensive lessons from the Kardyl family during the sail from Buldor.”

  Yozef stood upright again and addressed the other men in Caedelli. “As you can probably tell, I’m convinced Mark Kaldwel is from Amerika.” He looked at Balwis. “It seems to have slipped someone’s mind that one of the women also claims to be from Amerika.”

  Balwis shrugged. “It was Kaldwel who claimed he needed to meet with you. The woman doesn’t look like much of a threat, so I figured if you believed the man, then the woman would be no problem.”

  Yozef smiled. “It’s no problem, but please bring her here. I’ll question her, too, but if Mark says she’s from Amerika, then I’m sure she is, too. There’s also no need for this much security. I think it’s okay if I talk with Mark and—”

  Yozef stopped and looked at Mark. “What’s her name again?”

  “Heather. Heather Chen.”

  “Right. I’ll talk with Mark and Heather. Although we’ll have many hours and days to tell one another our stories, we might as well start.”

  Carnigan cleared his throat to get everyone’s attention, which decibel-wise equated to some people’s shout. “Forget being alone with either Kaldwel or the woman. Synton and I have clear instructions from Maera and Anarynd. You’re not to be the one to decide to be alone or when these people are safe.”

  “Well, I also got instructions . . . from Ceinwyn,” said Balwis. “But I think we can relax to a point. Carnigan, why don’t you and Synton stay when the three of them meet? The rest of us will go back to work. We’ll be in the building if we’re needed for anything.”

  Balwis turned to Yozef. “What are your plans? You know . . . are you staying for a while, going back to Orosz City right away, and what about your two Amerikans? However, the first thing you need to do is send Maera a semaphore message. Tell her everything here is fine.”

  Yozef held up both hands. “I surrender. Mark, Heather, and I have a lot to talk about, and I just realized I haven’t eaten anything since last night.” He looked at Mark. “How about your people? Hungry?”

  “I could eat a horse, and I’m sure the kids are getting cranky.”

  “All right. Here’s what we’ll do. Balwis, please have the Heather woman brought here so I can meet her. Also, arrange a meal soon as possible for the entire group. We’ll work out later what comes next.”

  Balwis looked to Storlini. “Savronel, go fetch the Heather woman here to meet Yozef, and do something about that meal for them. Something here in the building or nearby.”

  “It’s best if I go tell the others what’s happening,” said Mark. “I’m sure both Heather and my wife are worrying.”

  “Okay,” said Balwis. “Savronel, take Mark to the women. Take a couple of guards with you.”

  Yozef addressed Mark in English. “Get used to being watched, especially when we’re together, at least until people are comfortable with you.”

  Mark frowned. “I thought you were the big cheese around here.”

  “You’ll understand when you learn more about what’s been going on in the last few years. Plus, all the other men in this room are friends—and I don’t mean only acquaintances. We’ve been through a lot together and care about one another. You’ll also find my status has unique circumstances.”

  Mark thought Kolsko appeared uncomfortable with the last statement. He assumed he’d later learn what it meant.

  When Mark returned, at first Yozef didn’t see Heather, and he thought she wasn’t coming. Only when Mark moved to one side did he see her diminutive figure—probably no more than an inch over five feet tall, black hair tied in back, a baggy shirt, and trousers obviously cut down to fit her. She warily eyed Synton as she passed him, and then she stopped abruptly when she saw Carnigan and Kales.

  “Over here,” Yozef said in English, as he sat at a round table near the large window overlooking the harbor. Two other chairs were pulled away from the table.

  “It’s okay, Heather,” said Mark. “Come meet Joe Colsco, otherwise known here as Yozef Kolsko. He won’t bite . . . I think.”

  “Not funny, big guy.” Her brow furrowed, and she again examined the three men she hadn’t met before. She had thou
ght the Preddi hetman and the one-armed man were dangerous-looking enough . . . until now. She shivered under the gaze of the huge redhead’s scowl, a second man’s cold stare, and the seated man with a scar on one side of his head.

  “Jesus, Mark. Does everybody in this place look like they came out of a Mad Max movie?”

  The seated man laughed hard and said something in Caedelli to the other two men. Heather was getting better at the language. She wasn’t sure, but she thought he’d said, “She thinks we look like deranged marauders.” The big man’s scowl changed until he almost looked offended. The other man smiled, and it sounded like he’d said, “Looks like she’s a good judge of character.”

  “Never was a big fan of the Mad Max series,” Yozef said in English. “More like Star Wars when I was younger and then the transformer movies.”

  He motioned to the chair. “Please, Heather. We have a lot to talk about.”

  Mark gave Heather a gentle nudge in the back with his hand. She momentarily resisted, then walked to the table. Yozef stood and held out a hand for her to shake. She licked her lips, then took his hand.

  He wanted to rush and hug her, but she appeared apprehensive. Maybe later. The three sat.

  “More than merely pleased to meet you, Heather. It was quite a shock to learn that a man showed up on Caedellium claiming to be an American. I didn’t find out until just a few minutes ago about you. After years of thinking I was the only person on this planet from that airliner collision, now I find there’re three of us. Also makes me wonder if there are more. But that’s something for a later discussion.

  “A meal is being prepared, but there are some important things to talk about right away. First, though, let’s do some basic introductions. As Mark said, my name is Joe Colsco. Joseph, but here it ended up being pronounced like Yozef. I was from San Diego and was a chemistry graduate student at the University of California, Berkeley. I was traveling to a conference in Chicago, where I was to give a presentation. Obviously, there’re a million more details of who I was on Earth and what happened to me once I got here, but that’s a start. How about you two? Mark?”