“You there. Girl!” I looked around warily. There wasn’t anyone else she could be talking to. Dang. I turned toward her.
“Yeah, you.” She snapped her bony fingers at me. “Come here.” I took the few steps to stand in front of her table.
“Well, you’re quite the sickly thing, aren’t you? No wonder I haven’t seen you around before. I thought the Katjes were doing better feeding their brood nowadays.” She looked me up and down and humphed. “Well, no matter. I need you to find me a better spot than this.” I looked around the packed bazaar. There were only two spots left available, and they were right next to her on either side.
“Uh, all the spots are taken.”
“Any idiot can see that! Move someone. Them. There in the center.” She pointed at the McCall display of some sort of fencing. “Why do they always get the best spot? What are you Katjes now, a bunch of mol lovers?” I was confused until I looked down at the nearest bottle labeled Organic Rodent Liqui-Death. The label showed a drawing of a half-eaten turnip next to a rodent on its back with all four legs up in the air, its tongue hanging out and X’s for eyes.
“Doesn’t it say right there, no discrimination?” She gestured to the screen behind her, which helpfully displayed the market rules sign she was talking about. “This is age-ism!”
“Um, I wish I could help you, but I don’t think I can move anyone for you.”
“Well there’s your problem, girl. Don’t think. Do it!”
“Uh, hold on a sec.” I ran to get Thal and explained the situation.
“Menace,” he grumbled, then pasted on a smile and walked over to the woman’s table.
“Ma’am, as you know, the spots are first come, first served,” he stated without preamble. “Next time you’re welcome to arrive earlier to claim the spot you want.”
The old woman looked at me. “You brought this little boy over here to deal with me? Ha! Some Katje female you are. Where’s Nico? She’ll fix this.” She sniffed.
“Nico is retired, as you well know.” Thal dropped his saccharine smile. “But I’d be happy to call Alten down here for you right now.” He took his link off his belt and pressed his thumb to the thought pad, giving the old woman a steely glare.
“No, no. I don’t need to talk to Alten,” she sneered. She sat back down with a humph and crossed her arms. “Bunch of no-good mol lovers,” she muttered and glared back and forth between me, Thal, and the McCall table in the center of the room. I didn’t think she was talking about rodents anymore. More like she was calling the McCalls rodents, which was plain rude.
“And,” Thal continued, picking up an open bottle of poisonous spider repellant from the table. “You know you can’t have this open in here.” He replaced the cap. “Some people are allergic. You’ll make them sick. Keep it closed or we’ll have to ask you to leave.” Thal replaced the bottle pointedly and we left.
“Some people maybe I don’t mind making sick,” the old woman grumbled behind us under her breath. I doubt she knew I could hear her. “Maybe then those lousy mols would stay where they belong. Think they can take over this place too, like everywhere else. Humph!” I threw a glare over my shoulder at the mean old biddy.
“Wow, Thal, that was great! I didn't know what to say to her,” I said.
“Well, this is not the first time she’s tried that and I’ve watched Alten deal with her enough times,” he replied, but I could tell he was pleased. “Don’t worry about her. She’s old and bitter and stuck in the past. We’ll just have to keep an eye on her and make sure she keeps those spider repellant bottles closed. If she gives us any more trouble, we’ll call Alten to deal with her.”
“Was she calling the McCalls moles? Is that an insult here or something?” I explained about the small, burrowing rodents on Earth. He laughed.
“No. It’s short for Molinidae, their race. Molin is on the other side of the mountains to the west.”
Oh. I thought I remembered someone saying something about the people over the mountains, that they stayed with the aliens that brought humans here, before the Annunaki went extinct. I guessed they must be a race of tall, short-haired people?
Thal went to go fetch something Myrihn had asked for, leaving me to wander around the market some more.
The McCalls were walking around talking to people, wisely avoiding the back corner pesticide booth, so I took a closer look at their booth as I passed. One section was pictures of adorable Ahatu kittens up for adoption, while the rest of the display was some sort of fencing. When I poked at the sample, it moved and folded fluidly. What was the point of fencing if it didn’t keep its shape? “Kills haratchi on contact!” the display read. Did it snare them or something?
“It’s a good thing that’s just a sample, or you’d be lying on the ground twitching right about now.” John’s deep, laughing voice said from behind me. I straightened up; my face felt hot and my ears hummed.
“Oh.” I pretended to frown in thought at the fencing, rather than the strange, unbidden frission that ran through me at the melodic sound of his voice. What was wrong with me? “So, it’s supposed to be electrified?”
“Well, yeah. That’s the whole point, isn’t it? And it can be programmed to take whatever shape you need, a dome for example.” He gestured in an arc above our heads to mimic the rusty, chain-link dome outside.
"Okay. I see.” Yes, I was fine. He didn’t affect me in the least. No problem.
“So, I see you’ve survived here so far.”
“Yeah,” I replied and subtly moved my hand behind my leg, out of view.
“Uh-huh. So, what’d you do to your hand?”
“Oh. My first haratchi nest.” I didn’t want to talk about it.
“That good, huh?”
“Yeah.” I winced.
“What you need is one of these,” he held up his right hand, his thumb and forefinger making an L shape. The tips of those two fingers seemed to be covered with some sort of partial glove. “Way better than the fencing, if you ask me.”
“What is it?”
“We haven’t come up with a good name for it yet, but it shoots an electric jolt at whatever you aim for. Enough to knock out a full-grown haratchi for several minutes or to stun a large nest of hatching eggs all at once. Watch.” He pointed to an ugly blue dummy with limp, black fabric for wings set up nearby. “You just press the finger pads together and,” a jagged, thin bolt of lightning jumped from his fingers to the dummy, leaving an uneven scorch mark on the cloth-covered chest.
“Cool,” I breathed. “It’s a taser.” A really cool, compact taser. Even as I spoke, he inexplicably glanced at his dad across the room and grimaced, dropping his hand to his side before looking back to me.
“Dad keeps insisting it’s not ready for sale because it hasn’t been fully tested yet. Anyway, what did you call it, a taser? That’s good. I like it.”
I shrugged. I hadn’t come up with it. “Have you ever been hit with it?” I wondered what it felt like.
“Me? Yeah actually, I have. It’s like running full-speed into a brick wall.”
“Awesome.” I laughed, totally impressed. Wish Lyta and Otrere were here to use as test subjects.
“Not really.” He shook his head and grinned wryly. “Would you like my new brochure about it? You can read it over when you have time.”
“Yeah, sure.” He started to raise his hand and I held out mine automatically for him to hand me one, but he only looked at me quizzically and pressed his thumb to his link.
My link immediately began to vibrate on my belt with an incoming message. I looked down in surprise, and checked it with my bandaged hand. It said ‘Data from John McCall. Accept?’ I hit the green button to accept. That was so cool.
“Nice.”
“You’re so easily impressed.” He laughed. Wow. Okay, hold on. Not into the husky guy laugh. Really, I assured myself, even though my ears were still humming.
There was an awkward silence and the tips of his ears turned red. “Um, ah…
are you starting school here?” he asked.
I had to pause. “I don’t know.” I hadn’t really thought about it. “I guess I’m home-schooling. Again.” I made a face. “My mother’s already given me an assignment,” I said, thinking of the books I was supposed to read. “Anyway, is there an actual school around here?”
“Well, yeah. It’s here. At the Kindred,” he said as if wondering why I didn’t know.
“Oh,” I replied, embarrassed. “Guess my tour didn’t cover that.”
“But, you couldn’t ask for a better warrior than your mother, so if she’s teaching you, you’re set.”
“Oh, well gr… wait. You know who my mother is?”
“Well, yeah. There’s only one girl from Earth. Veridian Katje, the General’s daughter.”
“Sunny,” I corrected. “Sunny Price. I don’t go by Veridian.”
“Right, Sunny. I remember. And in your culture it’s customary for children to take the father’s last name.”
“Well yeah. Anyway, how’d you know my given name?”
“They’ve been talking about you in the news for weeks now. Actually, you’re something of a star.” He looked sheepish. “You didn’t know?”
“No.” I noticed Myrihn glowering at us nearby, but chose to ignore her. “Why would I be in the news?”
“Watch.” He placed his thumb on his link, giving it thought commands, before setting it flat on his palm. A little holo-news anchor popped up to stand three inches high, and I recognized that reporter with spiky hair standing with the port in the background.
“In the culmination of over two years of debate by the High Council’s Tribunal,” he began, “General Vaeda Katje’s daughter Veridian arrived today from Earth. She is the first Earthan to arrive on Macawi since the last migrations some 400 years ago.” The hologram showed a flying saucer landing, identical to the one we’d both arrived on. It was so strange to see John holding a little flying saucer in the palm of his hand that I almost didn’t recognize the tiny people exiting the craft as my shipmates. In their midst were the Robot, Sensei, and a fuzzed-out spot that had to be me.
“Wait, why am I all fuzzed out?” I asked. He looked at me quizzically.
“The General is very security conscious,” he said. “No one from this Kindred ever gives permission for their picture to be shown. Resume,” he said to the device that had automatically paused.
“Sources say she struggled to acclimate immediately after her journey through the WorldGate. She was able to resume adequate respiration under her own power and without supplemental oxygen. It remains to be seen if she will be able to live a normal life with her Kindred at the edge of the Great Desert, or if she will be forced to live indoors in an enriched oxygen environment. We'll keep you posted as more information becomes available. Twyl, back to you.” The playback cut off and John tapped the thought pad before putting the link back on his hip.
“See? You’re kind of a first. Earth father, born and raised on Earth, and then your mother wants to bring you here?” He sounded skeptical.
“Yeah, yeah, they didn’t know if I could survive.” I sniffed. That darned avalanche. “Well, obviously I’m fine.” Except for that scene on arrival, and the running yesterday, but, other than that….
Myrihn chose that moment to stop hovering and interrupt.
“It’s not just about you, Veridian,” she said in her oh-so-superior voice. I gritted my teeth and looked up at the ceiling in exasperation. “It’s a matter of world security. The High Council debated your coming here for years for a reason. Your health was only a minor concern,” she sneered.
“Not only are Earthlings notoriously bloodthirsty, but you come from the country that invented - and used - nuclear weapons against other humans on their own planet! If your so-called government found out about Macawi and the WorldGate, there’s no telling what they might do to us.” She threw up her hands, almost frothing at the mouth with agitation, and glared at John as if he’d suggested that we call up the President of the United States and invite him down for a barbeque. He held up his hands in surrender. “Now quit gabbing and go help Thal with the security desk,” she snapped and walked away toward the old woman at the organic pesticide booth.
“Hey! We are not bloodthirsty!” I yelled after her. “And that whole bombing Japan thing was a long time ago anyway!” I shouted, and then realized people were staring.
“People learn from their mistakes,” I grumbled to John, my arms crossed defensively. “Now we’ve got all sorts of treaties with other countries so that no one will use nukes again.” Except maybe against hostile aliens, I didn’t say aloud, remembering my favorite Will Smith movie. Or zombies, but then, who wouldn’t bomb zombies?
“Sunny!” Thal called from the doorway to the stairs. “Come on!”
"Okay,” I called back. “My cousin, Thal,” I explained. “Well, maybe I’ll see you again sometime?”
“Maybe.” He nodded with a quick smile as I turned and started toward Thal.
“Sunny!” he said exasperatedly and motioned to my bag, my scy and expando platform clearly visible through the mesh. It was still in the corner from this morning’s gymnastics.
“Oh, right.” I blushed and trotted over to retrieve it. John was still watching with a thoughtful expression, and his father seemed to be watching too from across the room.
“Not exactly the kind of stuff you carry around back home,” I said to John as I passed him again, struggling to tighten the strap across my chest as I went. I looked up from the twisted strap and blushed even more when I saw his eyes watching my hands and realized where my hands were. How embarrassing!
He looked back to my eyes and said quickly, “You guys wouldn’t have to patrol so much with our fencing. Your mom knows about it but here, take a look. Maybe you can convince her.” He pressed the thumb-pad on his phone and mine vibrated again with an incoming message. Cool. Now I had his number, and he probably had mine.
Maybe he might call me sometime. Just as a normal, interesting friend, I assured myself as Thal and I went upstairs, thankful when the humming in my ears finally went away.
We found that when Myrihn said for us to man the security desk, what she really meant was to clean up the giant mess of everything she had left there. A glass keg of honey had broken, leaving glass shards and a large, sticky puddle that had been tracked all over the place. Dirt and abandoned bits of debris were ensnared in its sticky web.
“Awww! Mom needed that,” Thal said at the sight.
“Why?” I asked, wondering why we got stuck with the chore of cleanup.
“Honey has lots of medicinal uses, of course. It’s been used forever for its antiseptic qualities. It’s in that salve for your hand for one thing.” I looked down at my bandaged finger. “No wonder the beekeeper was in such a bad mood. Too bad Myrihn didn’t call us up here when it first happened. We might’ve been able to save some of it. Now it’s going to take forever to clean up,” he grumbled.
He was right. We borrowed Ethem’s floor steamer vac, but it still took us the rest of the afternoon to get all traces of honey and sticky footprints up from the hall and stairs while shoppers walked in and out around us. Not long after we started cleaning, John and his father packed up their display and left.
“Thanks for trying,” the father said to us on their way out. John gave us a grimace of a smile and stomped out with the wounded dummy under one arm.
“Trying what?” I asked Thal. “What was that all about?”
Thal went and peeked downstairs. “Oh haratchi farts! That old woman with the pesticides is in their spot. Myrihn must have moved them.”
“Why? The spots were first come, first served.”
“Yeah, but our kind and theirs don’t always get along. On account of it being their fault what a mess the world’s in,” he said when I must have looked confused. “Well, not the McCalls specifically, of course. The Molinidae.” I shook my head at him. “You really don’t know much of our history, do you?”
“Sure I do. Anme-Nammu….”
“No, no, no. Much more recent than that, only a hundred years ago. There were a lot more people back then and we, all the Kindred farms, were struggling to feed the planet. Faarians are farmers and always have been. The scientists are almost all Molinidae, except for some doctors like my mom, who really, wouldn’t be doctors if we still trusted them to be our doctors, you know?”
I shook my head, but he continued without noticing.
“Anyway, Molinidae scientists say it’s all our fault. The haratchi and the resulting loss of oxygen, all the people who died, even the affliction, for using too many chemicals on our fields to increase food production,” he snorted a humorless laugh. “But guess who gave them to us, who told us they were safe to use? When birds and animals were disappearing, guess who said, ‘oh no, it couldn’t be the chemicals’? When the haratchi were eating the forests, who came up with napalm and said, ‘here, try this’?”
“Napalm?” I asked, feeling my face scrunch in disgust.
“Yeah, they even sold some of their formulas to Earth through an undercover distributor. Real humanitarians, aren’t they?”
“So, it’s Faarian Kindreds against Molinidae scientists, each one blaming the other,” I said. He nodded. “When it was really both,” I concluded.
He squinted at me for a second as though he was going to argue, but then he nodded slightly. “Maybe. I guess. But don’t let other people hear you say that. Mostly it was them.”
“So what, folks here take it out on people like the McCalls? How’s that fair?”
“What’s fair got to do with it?”
I made a face at him.
“Look, I don’t like it either. I didn’t make them move, did I? It’s just the way it is.”
I grunted and went back to cleaning the floor, lost in thought. We were pouring dirty honey water into the water reclamation system when I shared my conclusion.
The Faarian Chronicles: Exile Page 17
