Now I was really starting to feel bad about myself in that one space of a moment. Only because of my underlying prejudice of the Praetorial Guard.
But I waited quietly until he stepped out of the car capsule, then went back to the console and saw that I was still strapped in–with no place to go, except up.
The guard touched a second control interface, causing the capsule car’s door to slide shut with a hiss of escaping air; sealing me in.
I tried my best trying not to act scared, but the truth of the matter was, I was quaking.
Calm down. In a minute, this will be all over. I told myself–while waiting for things to begin.
***
Sitting back down at his other station terminal, the guard activated a bank of monitors, all of which kept tabs on things like life support, environmental controls, and the vital signs of the passenger itself.
The guard also did a quick DNA scan, marking her identity as a surface dweller, as part of the permanent transit record. Unfortunately, there was a glitch in the system, because somehow…her DNA profile didn’t read right in that second. The guard smacked his terminal screen in frustration, which reset it briefly.
He did another scan, and found everything in order.
Then he activated the transit system and watched on the monitor as the car shot upwards like a screaming demon, accelerating faster and faster with each passing second.
Once out of view, the man turned back to his console, logging into the communications transat system, and dialing a pre-set number.
A familiar face popped up onto the screen right after that.
“Yes?”
“She’s on her way up, old friend. Just thought you would like to know.”
Calis nodded, grateful that I had made it after all.
“Thanks, Rieken. I owe you one.”
Rieken saw a quick way he could pay up. “Just buy me a cold one at the 24/7 Bar and Grill next time I visit and we’ll call it even.”
Calis grinned. “You got it.”
“See you later.” Rieken said, then cut off the commlink quickly.
For him, the reason enough were simple: The day would get busy from this point on.
~17~
Stratos City.
Transit Terminal #1788.
I shook my head, a bit dizzy from the sudden stop on top of the adrenaline rush of acceleration which allowed me a brief moment of exhilaration and a sense of invulnerability that came with the sensation.
I suddenly found myself wishing that my Viper X-1 could do what the sky tube had only implemented based on design.
Technology is certainly advanced. I thought to myself in that moment–feeling the tube car come to a grinding halt. A hiss of air followed and I was more than eager to leave, if not to explore my new surroundings.
The hatch opened and a tall man with dashing looks and a flop of dark hair on his head appeared. His armor was pale gold in nature with a purposely tapered neck to show his rank pins of a third lieutenant–three bars with a slash mark through it on the right side.
“How are you doing?” He asked good naturedly, though there was a noticeable hint of awe in his tone.
I tried not to squirm, tried not to show off my youthful impatience, but I couldn’t help herself.
I wanted out!
“Fine, fine,” I replied quickly, looking up at him earnestly. “Would you mind getting me out now?”
The guard released my restraints with a small hand-held controller.
“There.” He said casually, before stepping aside for me, giving me a few minutes to grab my pack.
But when I stepped out (with the assistance of the guard), I experienced a moment of dizziness and weakness in my legs.
I swayed, only to be taken into tow by the guard, feeling his strong grip steady me until the moment had passed.
“T-thanks.” I muttered weakly, then took a deep breath in surprise. “What’s happening to me?”
“Gravity is one-tenth of that on the surface,” John explained to me. “You’re bound to be a little unsteady for awhile. But it will pass once you adjust.”
That would explain why my stomach was on the verge of puking up my breakfast. I reflected sourly.
“Okay…” I whispered, standing for a moment, hurling dark thoughts of my own back down to the surface at one old man in particular.
The guard allowed me a few more moments of personal privacy, then said casually, “You know, you are the first person that has ever come from the surface in one hundred years. Do you know that?”
That bit of information took me by surprise. “Really? What about the others that I saw down at the surface transit terminal in Weasel’s Ridge Maze?”
“They don’t really come here. The sky tubes themselves crisscross the planet for a few days before we retract them, then reposition the tube junctures for another round of transports.”
That made some sense, but I still had some lingering suspicion.
“Then how come I’m the only one whose made it up here?”
“Because you carry a special pass card that gives you the highest security clearance to the orbiting space complex. Those on the surface have standard green or blue designators on theirs. Point to point transport, not high enough for surface to space travel.”
I dug out my red pass card and peered at it intently, trying to figure out what other secrets this thing may have in store for me. But nothing happened as a result of my own personalized scrutiny.
“Weird.” I muttered mostly to myself, before putting it away. Then I cast a glance in the man’s general direction. “So where do I go from here?”
“Down the hall, turn right and down at the staircase.” The guard elaborated helpfully with a few hand gestures.
I thought she had gotten the gist of it and did as he had told her, but before thanking the man for his assistance with a winsome smile.
He waved back and wished her well on her trip, then turned back to the other guard who had watched the whole thing.
“Not so different, eh, Kevin?”
The man shrugged. “That remains to be seen, John. Surface dwellers were rumored to be barbaric and uncivilized things, not capable of compassion or even coherent thought itself.”
“So what did we just witness? A perfectly crafted illusion go drifting by?”
Kevin didn’t know. And he even said so in his own words.
John nodded, seeing how his friend was still mired into the stories and legends of the past 10,000 years.
“And even if we conversed with the legendary Starchild herself, you would think that’s nothing but a myth too, huh?”
Kevin laughed.
“The Starchild is a myth and legend, nothing more than the stories and fables we all grew up on.”
“So how do you explain that pretty young woman that we ran into? She’s a surface dweller. She didn’t look the least barbaric or uncivilized to me.”
Kevin’s expression cooled and so did his demeanor.
“Doesn’t mean anything. Being polite to someone doesn’t necessarily score brownie points with me.”
“Brownie points? Where the hell did you pick that up from?”
“The Old Language. On what files I found which were still intact.”
“And where did you find time to go down into the Central Core?”
Kevin shrugged innocently. “A few days ago when I had some time off.”
John turned away, smiling and chuckling at the same time.
“You never change.”
***
Finding the entrance way seemed easy enough from my perspective. No long lines, nothing. Just sparsely populated areas of people and guards–not to mention having the whole baby-grand staircase to herself.
I took that moment to goof off and carry on by myself for a few shameless minutes–just to enjoy the thrill of the moment by doing some elaborate dances on the steps, hop down a few times, tear back up, and after a few more rounds, I finally collected myself and he
aded straight for the exit.
The place was indeed gargantuan by comparison with its open spaces and a ceiling skylight that seemed to go on forever. I had to tear myself away from that sight because of the small wave of vertigo that came with it.
Looking around quickly, I concentrated my focus on just the exit itself–taking in deep measured breaths in the process–and not wanting to feel too overwhelmed by what I was experiencing so far on what was my first visit to the giant space complex.
But what stopped me in the end was the card terminal just before it and the stone-faced guard whom stood just a few paces beyond.
“Welcome to Stratos City,” a monologue voice said pleasantly. “Please step forward and slide your card at this terminal before you leave.”
“Why?” I blurted out reflexively, then winced at the sudden volume.
The same voice responded, “We need to make sure that you are registered here as a visiting civilian. If you wish to fill out a permanent residency claim form, they are located at the Information Center on Level 2057.”
And where’s that? I wondered privately. But before I could ask the terminal the same question, an alarm buzzed insistently, startling me badly.
“W-what?” I stammered. “What did I do?”
“Please move forward and swipe your card.”
The guard looked at me silently, but said nothing.
I did as I was told.
“Thank you. You may exit through the doors in front of you. Have a nice day.”
Doing as I was instructed, I went onwards, past the guard and towards the exit.
Only then–when I got through–did I finally find myself outside.
Outside!
With a gentle breeze blowing past me, she looked around, seeing nothing but chalk-white/gray walkways–sandstone–with beautifully designed marbled railings and light fixtures complete with crystalline gas-light bulbs. But a look closer showed that the “light” inside it wasn’t really fire, but a form of high energy plasma that I had never seen before.
Not even in my mom’s (or Calis’s) study history discs.
Impressed by what I saw, I continued my personal up close study of my new surroundings.
Approaching one of the railings, I wasn’t prepared for the enormity of…well, whatever this place was. A literal city in space, but so well defined and kept apart that I couldn’t honestly tell where it ended and where it actually began.
But the brick-red building in front of her told a completely different story, with its eye-level window displays, draped in blinds or curtains, but occasionally a window would be drawn open to allow fresh air to filter through.
But in the distance–in the far distance–I found myself staring at what was perhaps the tallest set of entwined crystal spires I had ever laid eyes upon.
“Holy shit,” I breathed in amazement, wondering who would be the first person I would encounter in this magnificent city.
~18~
Level 1203.
The line at the kiosk’s transact center was a bit longer than twenty-year-old Bayen Yelou expected.
Only on a Wednesday…he bemused to himself, letting out another sigh–one which clearly illustrated how inconvenienced he was at the moment. He was originally hoping that this would be a short trip–at least that’s what he told his mother, Francine Catherine Yelou, or ‘Fran’ to those who knew her best.
But Bayen was wrong on this account.
Glancing down at the heavy bag of credit slips in his left hand, he wondered just how long he would have to stand here, before the strain of impatience really showed itself to him. But not to him, but everyone else. The heat of it was thick here in this crowded area and Bayen could sense the tension in the air.
Not long and someone’s gonna lose it. He thought, reflecting on past events where someone lost their cool and exploded out of pure frustration.
Bayen would just have to exercise some restraint until his time came, that’s all.
So he fell back on what he would have to later, his fight in the Arena later on–a re-match of last week’s fight. He couldn’t avoid it. His opponent had flat out accused him of cheating him out of what he thought was rightfully his: recognition and honor.
But of course, Bayen could’ve disputed that claim by simply pointing out that he was simply overmatched and posed no real challenge to the expert fighter–a point which had made perfectly clear in the forty seconds it took Bayen to wipe the floor of his opponent.
Unfortunately, it didn’t end there, and Bayen was forced to make the other man a prime example of what kind of a fighter he was.
However, the challenge was issued and he had no choice but to honor the little weasel’s request.
No skin off my back. He inwardly thought, feeling the line move again, and him along with it.
***
I continued my exploration of the city and its many level designators and return points. In the time I spent by myself here, I had mastered the concept of excessive walking and standing on descending hover pads in order to get from one point to the next. Of course, the holographic/logistical interface maps she found were helpful enough. And when she couldn’t find one, I stopped to ask passing bystanders all sorts of questions.
Through and through, each level I was on sectioned into layered areas–much like my mom’s prized onions.
Each sector level had its own commerce and residential quarters, which gave more solid credence to my own two eyes, wherever I went. But unfortunately, each place I visited transformed one minute to the next, making me wonder if I wasn’t really looking at holographic representations.
Much like those maps.
Embarrassment took hold of me then after I had grabbed hold of another bystander and asked him if this place was real.
The man in question just looked at me stupidly for a second and then nodded; stating that this was as real as it was going to get–then walked off, muttering something about ‘spacers’ and ‘E-dicts’ under his breath.
But another woman who passed me by saw how miserable I looked and asked me what was wrong. I explained to her the dilemma I presently faced and the woman chuckled–then took me under her wing for a moment and explained it to her in one easy, laid out explanation.
“Honey, this is as real as one could get,” she began, before I jumped on her case.
“Yeah. But that’s what the other passing guy said too!” I countered with hostility.
The woman smiled patiently at me. “That’s true. He did. But there is no real reason to fake what everyone else sees and enjoys. No reason to be deceptive. It is all how you look at it.”
“So how come the layouts and buildings keep changing?”
“Because you’re not seeing the truth that’s before you, dear. That’s why. You should try and look up once in awhile.” She ogled her eyes upwards as a hint to me personally.
I did so and received quite the shock of my young life: There were clouds!
Clouds!
Iron slate gray clouds hugging what looked like one of the other levels she had just been on. But she couldn’t tell because she was too far down to pick out any discriminating features.
When she turned to ask the helpful woman another question, she was no longer there.
Other people were, but none of them seemed the least bit interested in stopping and explaining the finer points of how a city this size could be so easily concealed.
Not to mention baffling. I thought, wondering just how much of that little yarn the woman spun to me was the actual truth.
Crossing the upper plaza, I walked down the small flight of stairs, passing more smartly dressed people along the way, before coming across my first line of shops, surrounding a majestic fountain. A man and woman stood there, admiring the way the water jetted upwards and out, before falling perfectly on what looked like an arraignment of stones–only to hear orchestrated music chimes instead. A soft ballad filled the air, mesmerizing both the couple and me too.
But
soon the choreographed music faded away, tearing my focus of attention onto the couple themselves and I was taken aback by their gorgeous attire.
She drank in the colors and textures of each of their long flowing shirts and tightly knit pants, not to mention the soft-soled shoes of the woman and the sneakers of her male companion. Both were beautiful and gorgeous looking in stature and physique.
I found myself drooling with heartfelt envy and I had to stop for a moment to look away in order to compose myself in the proper manner once more.
But when I turned around, both of them had continued on. For a second, I thought I had heard gentle laughter, but I couldn’t be so sure, considering the fact I was in the vicinity of the noisy water fountain and all.
So I stayed here for a moment longer to grab my bearings and take in a bit more of my new surroundings.
Then after a few more minutes, I moved on.
Bayen finally saw his luck changing once the next-to-last person had finished conducting his business and left, leaving only one person more to stand in his way of the counter clerk–a young woman he knew from lots of personal interaction over the last few years.
Once that person’s business was completed, Bayen stepped forth with his mother’s gains for the day and greeted the young woman with a charming smile–one that didn’t go unappreciated by her.
“Hello, Anasi.” he said, handing her the brown leather pouch.
The green-haired girl smiled back, having a personal appreciation of the dashing young man’s charm and devilishly good looks.
“Hi, Bayen. What have you got for me today?” She pestered good-naturedly, but known to be a terrible flirt to guys like Bayen.
And the sky dancer knew this, which is why he didn’t mind the sometimes special attention she paid to him.
“Just your usual credit slips and chips from my mom’s store.” He answered casually.
“Busy?”
“Sometimes,” Bayen replied, watching as she dumped the pouch’s contents into a side tray and started feeding one credit slip after another into the wall’s reader slot next to her. Then she finished things off by dumping the credit wafer chips into a metal bin and punched a button. The chips were sucked down quickly, vanishing from her sight and his.
The Starchild Page 14
