by Neely Dobbs
CHAPTER 37: Cronul
Jazon stretched and yawned. He had been sleeping soundly during the hours before ADIZ awakened him. He saw the approaching planetary surface. The sky was fading from deep indigo to a rich blue as a harsh external brilliance was mellowed by the increasingly dense atmosphere. The initially featureless surface gradually resolved into patterns of rich brown and green, crosshatched with occasional rusty-tan lines. As the ship descended, a sparse collection of unpretentious structures rapidly took on detail. Shortly before landing, figures could be glimpsed moving around the buildings.
The ship passed through a projected image similar to those on Kepren and Alpha Byreen III and immediately touched down in a small underground landing complex. The ship's engines whined down to a dead stop, leaving the murmuring silence broken only by a quiet hissing.
He saw that the door had opened automatically, contrary to standard procedures which required his valid command. Just another demonstration of the Hoga's power? Obviously, his programming of ADIZ is still in effect.
He quietly muttered, "I guess I'm as ready as I'll ever be."
Upon hearing the comment, ADIZ immediately volunteered new information: “Sir, Hoga advises that you go to the above-ground portion of this structure, where you will be met by a coach pulled by four animals.” Pointing, ADIZ continued, “You may use that circular staircase to reach the upper level.” The robot again fell silent.
Acting much more at ease than he felt, Jazon said. “Take good care of the ship, ADIZ. I'll see you later.” You can't possibly understand how fervently I hope that's true!
He rode the light-ramp to the floor of the bay, turned and strode briskly toward the exit. The sturdy staircase before him was of simple design, entirely of highly polished metal, with guardrails and vertical support members made of smooth round tubing. As he rose toward ground level, however, he found paneling of a different material. The staircase's construction also switched abruptly to an ornately carved wooden material. Probably manufactured from a fibrous plant native to Cronul.
He emerged into a similarly paneled anteroom and marveled at the vista before him. The scene easily could have been a location on Earth, including the smell of infused antiquity— an inseparable part of any well aged building made entirely of wood. It may not be identical to the place I remember, but I see absolutely no difference. The benches. The ticket window. The row of battered lockers. Down to the last detail, it seemed to be the train station of his youth. But not my home on Kepren. I've seen all this before, but…I've never really seen it. This station perfectly marches one from my implanted memories of growing up on Earth! Even though I remember it clearly, I've never actually seen it until now. How….
As through living a long remembered dream, he moved unerringly to the back of the building. Despite ADIZ's instructions directing him to the station’s front, Jazon felt compelled to explore. Then he heard the unmistakable sounds of animals in harness; their arrival now visible through the wide front windows of the building.
Unswayed by their presence, he deliberately moved away from their sounds and stepped quickly out the back door. There he found the expected loading ramp, facing the double ribbons of steel that moved into the receding distance, both left and right. The narrow rails were supported at regular intervals by long, blocky crossties made of the same woody material as the building's construction.
His rekindled memory presented a mirror image of the scene now before him: a black metal behemoth with wheels much larger than those of the numerous smaller “cars” which trailed along after it. Both the engine and its trailing entourage tracked those steel ribbons on forged, flanged metal wheels. Again, this exactly mirrors my false memory.
He tried to remember when he actually had seen a similar ensemble. Finally he recalled, as a boy on Kepren, having seen a prized Kepren History Museum piece. That long dead relic of Kepren’s far distant past was comparable, but not exact.
Yet another memory quickly surfaced: Jazon had, in fact, witnessed such a scene while on Earth: A long black smoke trail billowing back and over the long train of swaying freight cars as they obediently followed behind a large pot-bellied locomotive. It had been far below him, seen through the wire struts of a Curtiss Jenny bi-plane. He had gotten the thoroughly memorable ride as an eager exchange for allowing the daring barnstormer to use Jazon's freshly harvested field as a base of operations for hawking a "thrilling and unforgettable twelve-minute flight, soaring high into the wild blue yonder" to locals for three-dollars a ride.
Memories of Kepren's past…true memories of Earth…implanted memories of a childhood on Earth. They all mixed and merged with each other until it was difficult to remember what was fact and what was fantasy. Unbidden, the dying words of Edgar Allan Poe came to Jazon's mind: “Oh, God, is all I see or seem but a dream within a dream?"
Here, on Cronul, everything merged tangibly, before his eyes, into what seemed to be a time-warped fact of everyday life on this planet. Somehow, I am convinced that— if only I waited long enough— a train pulled by a large black locomotive would appear, emitting a satisfying cacophony of measured chuffs and piercing squeals, culminating with a long drawn hiss of escaping steam…
His maundering recollections dissipated like a puff of dark smoke blown from the ancient engine's stack as he was yanked from his reverie by the reprise of the earlier sounds of restless animals in harness. Turning and moving to the open front door, he saw an enclosed carriage, its uniformed driver dismounting from its top. The coach…another museum piece?… showed signs of regular use, but was in perfect condition. It was a large, spoked-wheel type with double doors set in each of its sides. Passengers riding inside were protected from the weather, but the driver was obliged to sit outside in the elements, on a bench atop the coach's front, using long thin reins to guide and control the harnessed team of animals.
The coachman opened the doors on Jazon's side, then stood, waiting patiently and deferentially by the coach's front wheel. Jazon nodded politely. Then—not sure the coach was for him, and uneasy about moving forward— he looked back from the doorway toward the stairs that had carried him up him into to this quaint world. How long ago had he climbed that staircase? Ten minutes ago… or a hundred years? Was his ship still where he had left it? Was ADIZ? For a wavering moment, he was tempted to race back to the stairs and descend far enough to make sure. But the moment passed.
Instead, he walked over to a clerk who stood behind a narrow open-barred window counter. The clerk was dressed in a high collar, white shirt, pinstripe pants and coat. As Jazon approached, the clerk glanced quickly up, then back down.
“Excuse me,” Jazon said. “Could you tell me the name of this place?”
The clerk looked up slowly, as though for the first time, and gazed appraisingly over the top of his wire-rimmed spectacles. He arched one eyebrow, slowly and deliberately rubbed the left side of his face with his right hand and said, “Why, Farthing…o' course. What else would it be?” The clerk's incredulous tone clearly indicated it always had been Farthing and always would be, as any sane person would know. His eyes examined Jazon's Alliance uniform warily. Gruffly, he demanded, “Anythin' else, buster? Like somethin' actually important?”
“Thanks, no.” Jazon turned away from the counter, left the building and approached the carriage. When he neared it, the driver addressed him.
“Sir, you are Admiral Ozier?” It was barely a question. The driver had earlier identified him, without doubt, as his passenger.
Jazon replied in the same tone, “Yes, the Hoga sent you for me.”
“Correct. If you will seat yourself inside the coach, we shall start.” The driver squinted appraisingly at the fading sky. “We should have just enough daylight left to reach your destination.”
Jazon noticed that the sun's disc was reaching out to touch the horizon. If Cronul's rota
tional speed matched Kepren’s, the ride would be a short one, indeed.
The coach’s interior had the look of the careful hand crafting that had graced Kepren a thousand years earlier. As the carriage moved, Jazon also observed that the narrow lane leaving Farthing was merely the compacted natural soil of the planet, rather than being artificially surfaced. This further dated the comparison between his civilization’s state of development and Farthing’s.
However, Jazon knew of planets whose occupants had consciously chosen to enjoy a lifestyle governed by the simplicity of the past. Most such civilizations cleverly concealed all evidence of space flight and other accouterments of the modern technology they preferred to have available. Advanced devices still existed there, always shrouded behind holographic images and hidden in underground warrens.
Is this such a planet?
Then he recalled the clerk's look of genuine astonishment. This was out of character with the conduct that normally could be expected from those who had chosen such rustic life styles; they recognized the Kepren Alliance and wouldn’t have shown the slightest surprise at his uniform. But Cronul's spaceship facilities— though small— are excellent. Surely that must argue for this society's intimate knowledge of space flight.
It seemed that nothing quite fit, that every situation was filled with contradictions or discrepancies. He was no longer certain of anything.
The buildings at the edge of town thinned out quickly, giving way to cultivated fields. They passed some of Farthing’s few outlying dwellings, spaced increasingly farther apart at irregular intervals. Despite his years spent farming, he could identify none of the crops in the fields. Their rich fragrance wafting through the open windows of the coach hinted that they were near maturity, and the scents tugged at his memories of Earth— both implanted and real.
One remote structure they passed housed several large-wheeled farm implements. From their design, it was obvious they depended upon animals for power. He thought of his Uncle Ned, who maintained just such a collection, although Ned did not live on a planet dedicated to the simple, historic life. Rather, its wide-open spaces encouraged large-scale hobbies. His uncle had used antiquated farm equipment to cultivate and grow plants. Not because he needed to, but because he so enjoyed it. The vacations spent with Uncle Ned and Aunt Edna had been Jazon’s favorites.
He admired the slowly shifting colors of sunset, and realized time must pass quite differently here. The darkening disc of the sun was only now slipping below the horizon. Is it just my wool-gathering, or does time actually move more slowly here? Distracted by the thought, he was surprised when the crops suddenly gave way to an expanse of trees and rolling ground. By shifting his position slightly across the carriage's padded bench, Jazon could see ahead. The distant horizon separated into two distinct lines; the higher one was the darker and narrower of the two.
When the carriage approached more closely, he could make out that the upper line was actually the top edge of a great stone wall. As they approached closer to the wall, it seemed to have one small area different than the rest. Once close enough, he was shocked to realize the small area was actually a cavernous opening that sheltered and enclosed two massive wooden doors. Although each was fully fifteen feet high, they were so deeply inset into the opening that the great thickness of the stone wall was revealed. That wall also towered far, far higher than the massive doors. Two lighted braziers rested in mounted wall brackets on either side of the opening, barely illuminating the doors. Vines and creepers climbed the wall, soon disappearing beyond the reach of the braziers' dim, flickering light.
The carriage clattered to a stop in front of this imposing entrance just as night descended fully. The driver clambered down hurriedly, threw open the carriage door and anxiously directed him to use either of the huge beast-head clappers barely visible where they hung in uneasy silence on the deeply shadowed doors. The carriage raced off the moment he exited it, as if the driver had felt the need to escape.
Jazon cautiously approached those imposing doors.
