The Gypsy Comet

by London, Lia

  All at once, the faneps swarmed in front of me and flanked my sides. My whole body clenched, and I cowered with my hands over my head, but not even one brushed against me in the fray. When silence fell again, I saw the trampled grass leading directly to my goal.

  I took a tentative step forward. With the night-vision goggles and the cleared path, I advanced quickly, drawing in the cool air, and exhaling my reservations in soft wisps of breath. When I reached the hidden entrance of the caverns, I saw nothing disturbed. If the faneps gone inside, they’d hidden their tracks well.

  Crouching, I slipped inside and started up the first winding tunnel. Suddenly, a bright red laser light cut through the air and marked a point on my shoulder.

  “Who’s there?” hissed a male voice.

  “Brita Artemus,” I answered.

  “Who?”

  I huffed out a breath. “My name is Brita. I’m a friend of Saloma’s.” When he hesitated further, I added, “I’m the one who showed her this place.”

  “Come slowly,” he ordered.

  I walked the last meters with my hands raised. “Brita,” I repeated.

  “Let me see your face,” he demanded.

  I obliged, peeling off the gypsy scarves and shaking my hair free. Sweat and humidity curled my chin-length mop. “Can I please see Saloma. Tell me she’s here. I’ve come so far to find her.”

  “Stand down.” Saloma’s voice boomed behind him, and he stepped aside. “Brita! It’s really you!” She laughed and came forward, embracing me. “How have you been? When did you drop? Come on in and see what we’ve done with the place.”

  We left the guard by the opening and stopped in the first cavern. Except for high-powered lights ensconced in the stone walls at regular intervals, it looked largely the same.

  “We’ve saved this place for gathering and training, but I think you’ll like how the rest of it is shaping up.” Saloma walked with an air of authority Stationmaster Lew could never pretend to have, and she wasn’t overstating the progress. What had once been narrow, rough tunnels were now smooth corridors, often with stairs and lighting provided by patches of etak crystals. Partitions created comfortable dorms, all powered with electricity garnered from the fast-flowing underground streams. They’d even put in some rudimentary plumbing.

  “We’re working on plans for an elevator shaft,” said Saloma, beaming. “For the aging gypsies who struggle to climb all the stairs. There’s an old lava flue that’s almost perfectly vertical. I’m so excited about the possibilities.”

  I gaped at the transformation. “How did you do all of this? Who in our ranks has the skills?”

  “Gypsies are every bit as capable of learning and innovating as stationaries,” she said proudly. “We must find other ways to educate ourselves when schools close their doors to us. Ironically, some of our most useful workers come from the Craggy prisons where they learned skilled labor as part of their sentence. If they hadn’t been deemed a menace to society, they’d never be able to help our community as well as this.” She spread her arms as if embracing the room.

  I stood slack-jawed and appreciative of the miracle. Part of me was very pleased, and part of me wished I’d been there to participate.

  “This is amazing.” I circled in place, admiring what she’d done with the Etak Room, which now resembled a grand council chamber. “I had to come and see how you all were progressing, but this is beyond anything I imagined.”

  “Have you come back to join us, then?”

  I gave her an apologetic smile. “Sorry. This is a short visit only, but I had to know what had become of you all. My circumstances on the Arxon have improved, and I’ve got information for you.”

  “Wonderful!”

  “I was also getting worried. The news reports have gone silent on gypsies lately.”

  She pursed her lips. “Yes, I suppose they have.”

  When she didn’t explain, I indicated the room. “So why the elaborate scale when gypsies move around so much?”

  Saloma motioned me to an enormous round table in the center of the room. Its polished wood almost glowed with the reflected blue light. We sat side by side at this magnificent centerpiece to the room, and Saloma’s face seemed to age with an invisible burden.

  She sighed. “As you said, we’ve been trying to stay out of the news.”

  “I have to hunt down any word of gypsies. There have been fewer … altercations lately, though. That’s promising.”

  Saloma shook her head. “Not fewer. More.”

  “Why is it not being reported, then?”

  “Because it’s being done in secret.” She rested her hand on mine. “Brita, the Crimson Guard and similar groups on the other planets have been organizing themselves secretly.”

  “As have we.”

  “True. The Network expands daily, and we’ve never been so united.” Her eyes darkened. “Or depleted.”

  My stomach lurched at her ominous tone. “What do you mean?”

  Her voice came as a hoarse whisper. “They’ve been finding and raiding gypsy camps, none of it sanctioned by official channels, so it’s hidden to the Granbo Charter Council.”

  “Raiding them for what?” My mouth went dry.

  “It’s been a systematic, silent wave of genocide.”

  34 ~ The Council Meeting

  I returned home to find the famed Granbo Charter Council was scheduled to convene on the Arxon in less than a month.

  “Do you think Sid would let me bring a petition before the Council?” I asked Dag from where I sat on the floor with Felly.

  “What kind of petition?”

  I hesitated, realizing immediately a petition wouldn’t work because no one else on board would care. “Never mind.”

  “Brita.”

  He sounded so paternal that Felly looked up from her geometric puzzles. “Is Mommy in trouble?”

  Dag chuckled at this. “No, but Mommy’s keeping secrets from me.”

  My jaw dropped. “I am not.” Except that I had traded our SWaTT for a laser pistol and vowed to keep in touch with Saloma. “I’m trying to decide if my idea is good or not.”

  Caz waddled in from the bedroom clutching her pillow, and for a moment I allowed myself to be distracted by her play. She set the pillow beside me and climbed up the sofa to the arm rest on her hands and knees.

  “Look, Mommy!” With a happy squeal, she hurled herself down to the pillow, landing on her belly with a jubilant laugh. “I dwopped to Cawen.” In her little mind, talk of quick drops to the Surface were like jumping off a cushion, and she desperately wanted to join me. She repeated this several times before landing on her feet, but when she did, the smile of triumph on her sweet little face kindled a fire within me. Here was a child willing to attempt something daring over and over until it worked out the way she wanted it. She couldn’t have landed on her feet if she hadn’t first been willing to fall.

  I turned to Dag. “I’m going to ask Stationmaster Lew if I may present an item for the agenda.”

  His eyebrow lifted his gaze over the digi-screen he studied. “And that would be…?”

  “Adding a representative to the Council.” I licked my lips. “A gypsy.”

  “You?”

  I shook my head, thinking of Saloma. She was the real leader, wasn’t she? “No, but that could be settled later. I want to get the idea of representation into the Charter. Gypsies do represent 29% of the population, after all.” At least they did before the genocides. I wondered what the numbers were now.

  “Is it really that many?” He set the digi-pad down with a frown and regarded me.

  “I think so. I checked census statistics from last year.”

  “I didn’t know they even kept gypsy population statistics. It must be hard with them moving around.”

  “I’m sure they’re just estimates, but still…29%.”

  Dag tugged his hair back, letting the motion rock him back in his chair. Staring at the ceiling, he murmured. “How has there not been a revolut
ion in all this time?”

  His words startled me, then steeled me. “Exactly what I thought. Humanity only has so much of a hold on this star system. We should work together better to ensure our survival.”

  Dag’s lips folded downward. “That sounds a bit dramatic. Survival. Mostly, we’re doing fine. Populations are growing on the planets as anticipated for a century of colonization. No doubt the Council will call for more colonies before long to help spread people out a bit. Maybe one of the new areas could be for the gypsies,” he offered weakly.

  “I don’t know if they’re going to want to be packed away on a slice of second-choice land.”

  “It’s better than nothing. And if they opened their own colony, they’d have a voice on the Council.”

  I shrugged. “I guess that’s for the Council to decide, but my point is a gypsy needs to be included in those negotiations.”

  Dag smiled at me. “If anyone can convince the Council to do that, it’s you. I’d start writing your proposal now. Maybe study up on some of your grandmother’s speeches to find the right rhetoric.”

  My eyes watered at his confidence. “Will you help me find some?”

  “Of course.”

  I shot a glance at Felly, making sure she was absorbed in her activity. “Should I tell them about my grandmother? I mean… reveal our relationship?”

  Dag slid off of his chair and sat akimbo style opposite me, creating an obstacle for Caz to run around between leaps onto her pillow. “That’s a hard call. Some might remember Levia and admire her, but others might have resented her. Why don’t we read her speeches? That might give us a clue as to what arguments she fielded.” He reached for my hands. “Do you feel safe?”

  “I do.”

  But I knew others did not. I didn’t want to scare him about Saloma’s news of the genocides. Without documented proof, he might reject it as hearsay, or worse, believe it and forbid me to make another drop.

  OOO

  I don’t think it’s a good idea. Saloma’s response on the SWaTT came quickly. Conjuring up Levia’s legacy could be very controversial. Not only did she advocate for gypsy rights, she consorted with faneps. Those who despised her were sure to capitalize on this as a threat. They claimed she would eventually grant rights to all mildly sentient beings and there would be utter chaos in the System.

  My mother never told me about these ridiculous arguments, but having gone to enough parties with dignitaries, I could almost imagine the leaps out of logic the power-hungry might take.

  Understood. I hesitated. If I’m able to get them to entertain the idea of a gypsy representative, are you interested in the position? I had no idea how such a position would be filled. Nomination? Appointment? Vote? How would that work, given the transient nature of gypsies?

  Let’s make one jump at a time. Thank you for your willingness to make a bold move. We are lucky to have you on our side.

  I closed our conversation with news of the family and turned off the SWaTT. It bothered me when Saloma used the word “side” because I didn’t want to advocate for one group more than another, but I could see what she meant. The “side” right now was not Gypsies vs. Everyone Else but rather Fair Representation vs. Oppression of One-Third of the Populace.

  OOO

  “The Council Chair recognizes Brita Artemus. You may have the floor now, Mrs. Artemus. Fifteen minutes.”

  Trembling, I stood and smoothed the lap wrinkles from my beige coversuit. Exhaling through pursed lips, I readied my most winning smile and turned to Council Chair Greg Rancell. I’d not yet met him at parties on the Arxon and appreciated immediately his distinguished appearance. His even, broad features and wisps of white hair feathered back into black hair that framed a face much darker than mine. Surely he came from one of the equatorial island chains on Tye, and that bolstered my hope of success.

  “Mr. Rancell.” I nodded politely. “Members of the Granbo Charter Council.” I acknowledged the six men and women who sat on the row beneath his elevated desk. Drawing a deep breath, I lifted my gaze to the gallery of the conference room and spied many faces I recognized. “Esteemed ambassadors of Caren, Craggy, Tye, and the interplanetary city stations.” If they were all present, I now commanded the attention of 104 of them.

  “I’ve had the great honor of meeting many of you here on the Arxon,” I began. “We’ve had wonderful discussions about your colonies and city-stations, and I’ve learned so much. What you may not know is that I’ve also had the privilege of visiting many of the places you call home, and I can see why you love them.”

  A quiet murmur rippled through the room as people processed this surprise. I continued, “Perhaps you didn’t know I have not always been a resident of the Arxon, though some of you may have suspected my skin was a little too ruddy for a spacey who’s never left orbit.”

  Council Chair Rancell’s eyebrow ticked up, and I decided to focus on him. If he indeed came from one of the more hospitable colonies of Tye, he might be sympathetic to my next thoughts. “I was born on Caren—a citizen of Rik Peninsula Colony,” I added with a nod to the correct ambassador. I greatly appreciate the beauty of that region and love everything about it, even the electrical storms.”

  A smattering of soft laughter sounded even as the ICS ambassadors exchanged horrified glances.

  “My family wanted me to know about the great leaders of the Granbo System.” Sure, they meant Queen Levia, but let these fat egotists think I’m talking about them. “They felt it would be important for me to travel and see different regions, even different planets for myself. With that has come a great love for the whole star system and the diversity of natural beauty and climes it offers.” People remained positive until I added, “And cultures, too.”

  A palpable sense of mental walls snapping up filled the room. I’d need to open holes in these carefully.

  “Each colony can be proud of the way it was established and developed to meet the needs of its first, later, and present citizens. It’s remarkable what humanity is capable of—solving problems based on resources and needs.” This softened some shoulders. “It’s so gratifying to me, as we host the events here on the Arxon, to see how such distinguished people of varied experiences can come together and mingle so pleasantly, and I have heard great things of this body present today. Why, you’ve found ways to appropriate resources through an entire star system, keeping everything working as smoothly as an Arxon lift.”

  I gave them the ingratiating smile so many would find familiar from our parties together and got a few bubbling chuckles in return. “As one who observes you all with admiration from a distance, I can say it is a marvel and something you should all be very proud of.”

  Actual light applause sounded.

  I drew a calming breath and launched my first bomb. “What a shame it is that there are sometimes feelings of apprehension between our colonies and city-stations. Perhaps this is born of a rumor, or a misunderstanding. We all know how it hurts to have our good intentions misconstrued, our good efforts undervalued, or our good faith distrusted.”

  Nods.

  “If we could truly come together with a sense of community spirit…” I punched the air lightly, touting the ICS slogan. “Realizing we are, of course, one great community of humankind so far from the home of our first ancestors. We’ve come together. Think how far we might yet go … if.”

  I paused as much for dramatic effect as to coax saliva back into my mouth. Demurring my posture, I put on a pensive cast. “I mentioned I’ve had the wonderful opportunity to travel.”

  The second bomb hung poised. “This was aided in great part by my father, Claus.” Deep breath. “He was a gypsy.”

  I turned away from the Council Chair with closed eyes, re-opening them to study the sea of faces, dimpling and churning like a lake in a thunderstorm.

  “Order!” cried Council Chair Rancell. “Come to order!” The room settled, and I faced him again with a nod of thanks. He met my gaze with a stern scowl. “Had I known…”


  “That I was half gypsy, sir?” I’d already blown up their faith in me, so the protocol of speaking over him hardly mattered anymore. “Sir, please indulge me a moment longer.” I held up my hands in an appeasing gesture at the crowd and smiled as I had at the Arxon parties. “Please, so many of you know me. We’ve spoken as friends. We’ve enjoyed such pleasant times together and come to understand each other, have we not?” I licked my lips. “I wonder… If you were to think back on our conversations, could you find anything that would make you think I, a half-gypsy, do not share your most important values?”

  As I spoke, I let my eyes connect with the ambassadors I knew, pausing to give them time to think. “Remember how I spoke of my husband, Dag Artemus, a doctor of System-wide renown? Remember how we laughed over the complexities of raising a rambunctious toddler? Remember how we cherished the opportunity to be of service to our fellow beings?” I lowered my voice without fear it would go unheard in the breathless silence of the room. “Remember how I knew you were good, and you felt the same of me?”

  Drawing to my full height, I bowed to the Granbo Council. “Ladies and gentlemen of the Council, I propose that we think on our shared humanity and open a respectful dialog.”

  “About what?” demanded Rancell. “With whom?”

  “With whomever you choose,” I said. “About the possibility of adding another seat on the Council… for a gypsy.”

  Rancell rose to his feet, shoulders back. “You go too far.”

  OOO

  “Fifty-three ambassadors from Tye, thirty-four from Caren, eleven from Craggy, all six ICS reps, and seven Granbo Charter Council members—and they couldn’t abide the idea of having one!” I punched my pillow before burying my face in it again. “One gypsy in their midst.”

  Dag rubbed my back gently. “A seat on the Charter Coun—”

  “No, Dag!” I sat up, almost shouting. “Not even as an ambassador. One voice it would have been in 105.”