ANGELA: Wheel.
TOM: Shush.
ANGELA: Just saying. Don’t bogart it like you invented the thing.
“I’d be happy to explain,” Tom replied. “As you are all very wise, I have no uncertainty as to your capacity to understand.” Almost in perfect sync, the council members’ eyes dropped and rose.
Comments and body language interpretations scrolled by as Tom composed.
LIVETRANS: Please proceed.
LIVETRANS: I want this.
LIVETRANS: Yes.
LIVETRANS: Proceed now.
“Many generations before my birth, some of the smartest Syons People of our land made this shocking discovery. Like you, we’d always been plagued by illness, both in our people and in our foods. Cities as big as yours were often stricken by invisible killers. The very smartest of them could not discern the source. But one day, one man discovered that these killers were not invisible, but extremely small—so small that they could not be seen by Syons People’s eyes.”
Threck eyes hid.
Tom hurried to write the rest of the story.
LIVETRANS: Continue.
LIVETRANS: More.
LIVETRANS: Interesting.
“Another smart person, years later, connected these tiny lifeforms to molds that grew on food and to the passage of disease from one animal or plant to another. And finally, yet another researcher discovered that there were ways to kill these things which no one could see, using other little things invisible to the eye. Remedies were created, tested, and sent all over. This series of discoveries improved all Syons People’s lives. Now, we need only study your foods and ill, and we can create remedies for the Threck people.”
The council was silent, staring.
ANGELA: Well done. Waaaaay more longwinded than necessary, but I think they get it.
Amoss stepped slowly forward as the other council members shared glances. “Tom, where are Syons People from?”
Asked and answered, Tom thought. Well, answered with a lie, but how would they know?
“As I said, we are from distant northern land, as far away as one can imagine.”
“But this is not true,” Amoss said. “Threck have travelled to all lands, and unless Syons People live in Hynka Country, there is no place for these Syons cities. So I ask … where?”
Tom had no clue how to answer. There was no protocol for this other than to stick to the guns, resting assured that technically it was partially the truth. They were from an unimaginably distant land.
ANGELA: Crap! Are you going to tell them?
TOM: I can’t!
“Tom,” Amoss began again, slowly rocking side to side. “How much time have Syons People spent with farmers?”
This he could answer. “Not long. We arrived just before your harvesting group.”
“And how much time have Syons People spent with the sea people? Those who call themselves Seekapock?”
“None, no time.”
Amoss stopped moving, dark eyes fixed on Tom’s. “And how much time have Syons People spent with Threck?”
“As long as we’ve been here. Since meeting you.”
“Yes. So how do Syons People speak Threck language with such delightful precision?”
“We learn from listening. Our garb is able to keep words. Then we say them.”
ANGELA: Wow. That was terrible.
He ignored her. He was burying himself and “Syons People” deeper and deeper.
“Enough, Amoss.” Unhkte stepped forward. She moved right up to Angela, her droopy eyes shifting up, down, and around, and then turning to Tom for the same once-over. At this distance, Tom observed several faint scars on Unhkte’s head, like an old shark that had once tried to eat a ship’s propeller. “You know much about Threck, do you not?”
“We know some,” Tom replied. “From observation. Probably not as much as you think, though.”
Unhkte faced the wall, eyes roaming the ceiling. “Do you know how Threck are born?”
Tom struggled with his response, deleting and rewriting before reluctantly settling. “There is a cycle in fertile individuals. During fertilization, they experience increasing stiffness, leading to full paralysis while eggs—”
“Enough. Stop.” Unhkte waved an arm. Tom paused the Livetrans playback. Unhkte turned to the council. “You see?”
“This is reproduction,” Fetz said to Tom. “Answer Unhkte’s question. How are Threck born?”
“Apologies,” Tom said. “I thought you wished to test our knowledge of your physiology. Birth occurs submerged in saturated soil after roughly eighty days’ gestation when the egg is—”
“No more,” Unhkte stopped him again. “They know nothing of Threck. Let it be, and let us adjourn.”
“No,” Amoss said, and then shouted, “Setkee!” Young Threck appeared from the stairway that led to the uppermost floors. “Restrain the Syons People and take them to holding room.”
“What’s going on?” Tom demanded as tentacles constricted around his arms, holding them tight to his body. He could no longer gesture to plead with the council. “Need explain. Tell what want know. Will explain anything.”
“Get it off me, Tom!” Angela cried.
A small Threck’s body lay flat against Angela’s back and its arms and legs wrapped two or three times around her. The same was true of the one on Tom’s back. Other Setkee pushed them along toward the stairwell as the council members huddled close to each other.
Livetrans only picked up a few snippets.
LIVETRANS: Cannot trust.
LIVETRANS: Find others.
LIVETRANS: Execute.
* * *
In the “holding” room, Angela gazed upward, fascinated by the door.
An hour earlier, upon arriving at the end of a long subterranean hall, they perceived a sloped stone wall that, if climbed up, would lead only to smacking one’s head on the jagged rock ceiling. It wasn’t a wall, though, but a rectangular slab of granite, anchored at its middle to the bedrock on both sides. Scaling the 45 surface—bound by tentacles, and with a few other escorts—the top end of the slab had gradually dropped while the end behind them rose, like a trapdoor for a giant snail. Revealed below, a small, bowl-shaped cave with a shallow puddle at its bottom. Their captors released them and scurried out before the massive gate sealed Tom and Angela in the dark.
Now, Tom lay cradled in the curvature of the wall, scratching an itchy head as Angela studied the “door” through various optics. Their helmets lay on the ground beside the puddle.
“I can’t find any records of this exact design,” Angela marveled. “Of course, the idea of a gate rotating on a single axle has been around forever, but the concept of body weight as the powering force … I mean, in this application, I suppose it’s sort of the obvious, sole option, based upon the cave’s purpose. You know, this is the kind of stuff you see in history and wonder how the hell people missed the connections. A Threck engineer doesn’t just glance at this thing and go ‘hey, whoa, our cart wheels are stupid!’ and introduce a proper wheel and axle.” She glanced back at the quiet Tom. “Are you still moping?”
“It’s not moping when your life is in actual danger. In such cases, it’s called ‘appropriate distress.’”
She splashed through the puddle and flopped down next to him, slapping his knee. “Moping.”
He looked at her through thermag, her smiling face a mix of blues and whites. “I seriously don’t get how you’re so upbeat right now, appreciating the engineering of our jail cell. They could just leave us to die in here. Move on with city life. Dissect our corpses when they get around to it. That’s not some pessimistic worst-case scenario. It’s highly probable. I screwed us.”
“And that’s the real issue here, I think.” She nudged his shoulder with hers. “Somebody feels like a big fat failure. All your anxiety came to fruition. You communicated ineffectively. And damn, not only are you effed, but the chick you’re totally in love with is, too. Funereal, truly.”<
br />
“Sorry, are you trying to make me feel better?”
She pushed out her lower lip and furrowed her brow. “Aw, am I making you sadder?” She sunk lower, incorporating an utterly maddening baby talk. “Does da widdle guy need mawmaw to make him feew bedder?” Tom pressed his lips together, shaking his head as he battled a creeping smile. “I’m sawwy, my widdle schnookie ookie wookems.”
“Oh man, I’m going to flick you in the eye so hard.”
“Don’t care. Made you smile. Listen to me now. I’m optimistic for several reasons. First, these are pretty reasonable, intelligent people. Sure, they literally crap through their mouths, but they can’t help that. No anus. If they had a choice in the matter, they’d use another orifice—I believe that deeply. As for us, something was misunderstood, and you’ll surely have a chance to straighten it out before we’re dragged off to some gallows, which, incidentally, would probably be another captivating example of unprecedented engineering.”
“Particularly due to their lack of necks.”
She ignored his muttering. “Second, Zisa and Pablo know where we are. They won’t just sit there laxing at the rally point, roasting … whatever, and one day wonder what happened to us. They’ll come, and they’ll come packing heat. Which brings me to C.”
“Did I miss an A and B?”
She stood up and patted the holstered MW on her thigh. “Roman octopus people have pretty lackluster arrest procedures. If we have to blast our way out of here …” She sprang into a gunslinger stance. “I’m ready for action!”
He looked up at her, acceding to her good cheer. “‘Funereal?’”
She smirked. “Thesaurus.”
“Have you noticed how we’re sort of opposites when it comes to emotional responses?”
“You’re just noticing that? Such a male.”
A resounding creak from above and bright light streamed into the cave. Tom switched back to standard optics. The top of the stone slab slowly descended with a loud crack as its axle protested the shift in weight. He grabbed both helmets, handing Angela hers.
“This thing could fall at any second,” Tom said as they both pressed their backs against the wall and squeezed into the helmets, sealing them into their neck receivers.
Angela kept talking, but in a whisper. “Nah, it’s a self-reinforcing design. See, the axle is fully encased, and the…”
She faded off when the door stopped rotating, teetering subtly at a horizontal position parallel to the tunnel floor outside, and several silhouetted Threck heads entered the meter-high space beneath. Tom’s optics exposure auto-adjusted and the figures materialized.
“Tom and Angela of Syons People,” one of the gawking Threck said. “Come out now.”
Angela’s hand drifted to her MW.
Tom touched her leg and addressed the Threck above. “I respectfully request the wise council’s time to explain any misunderstandings that may have arisen during our meeting. Our people have entirely peaceful intentions, wishing only to live in peace somewhere the Threck people find acceptable. In exchange for this generosity, we offer only the help you choose to accept.” The onlookers remained silent. “Or we can simply take our belongings, leave your land, and you need never see us again.”
There had always been a backup plan should the Threck people decline Minnie’s appeal: an uninhabited, J-shaped string of small islands to the north of Threck Country—beyond the horizon, but well within skimmer range. The only problem was fresh water. The evacuees must rely upon seawater desalinization.
“Your sole mistake,” the Threck finally said, “was in addressing the council first, and not my group.” Tom suddenly noticed the drowsy eyes and the cloak’s purple trim.
Unhkte?
Tom pushed off the wall and stood. “I believe that was the objective until we happened upon Dowfwoss Fetz.”
“Yes, I am aware,” Unhkte said. “Come now. You have nothing more to fear for the time being.”
Tom helped Angela up. “The time being?”
“Yes. For the time being you are under the scrutiny of my group. This is maneuver. Do you understand?”
“I’m not sure I do.”
“Gesture,” Unhkte attempted. “For the council’s sake. ‘Scrutiny,’ we say. Tactical naming to quell concerns while not, ourselves, harboring such concerns. Do you understand?”
Tom got it. The Thinkers—or at least Unhkte—believed Tom innocent, even if the council did not, and had presented some sort of ruse to get them freed.
“I understand,” Tom said. “You have our gratitude.”
“We shall see. Come out now.”
Tom and Angela stepped over the puddle and struggled to find footing on the roughhewn bedrock beneath the exit. Seconds later, unannounced arms from above curled under their armpits and lifted them up and out of the cave.
Angela pulled her suit down at the legs. She sent one of the preset Threck phrases through her suit’s PA. “Thank you.”
Unhkte slid closer and regarded Angela. “Identical voice. You share this Threck voice.”
Earlier in the day, atop the trembling harvest cart, Tom had reviewed vid of the whole bath encounter, cataloguing observations while critiquing his own performance. Dissatisfied with his poor explanation of the whole talking suit thing, a better explanation had occurred to him that he was pleased to now share. “Our garb emits the words we put into it. It is like Threck whistle—producing sound your bodies alone cannot create, and it’s the same sound regardless of the user.”
ANGELA: Brilliant! You!
“This is the most extraordinary thing I have heard,” Unhkte said with two eye hides. “It is shame.” She turned and began walking down the torch-lit hall.
“Why ‘shame?’” Tom and Angela followed as some Threck closed the holding room while others walked close behind.
“This is not your mistake.” Unhkte gestured behind her back, one arm coiling clockwise, close to her body (“is not”), while the other pointed at him (“you”). Tom realized that one had to adopt a simpler type of speech when addressing someone who was not looking. Unhkte started up the tunnel’s cramped, semi-spiraled stairway to ground level. “It is simply unfortunate that we cannot spend more time with you. From what little I have heard, the Thinkers and I could blithely halt all current contemplations and dedicate seasons of time just listening.”
“Believe,” Tom said, and suddenly felt quite moved—strangely—as if the emotion had a physical form stretching out inside his head. He swallowed. “Syons People share this opinion of Threck.”
Unhkte paused at the arched exit and turned to face him. Tom had to balance awkwardly on the concave stairs. Angela ran into him and put a hand on his rear. “What could Syons People learn from Threck? It appears that you have already achieved shyma.”
“I do not know this word shyma, but I assure you, there is much that we’ve already learned and can still learn from your people.”
Unhkte emitted a short laugh. “As Eshkowoss Peekt taught, shyma is not end. To reestablish this notion … my group will be amenable.” She continued on, out of the archway, and Tom was relieved to exit the precarious shaft.
He wondered, though, what was this lamenting? She seemed to be implying there remained little time. Had Unhkte negotiated a reprieve from whatever sentence the council had decreed, but they were now to be forever exiled? Tom wanted to ask, but opted for silence. Despite Unhkte’s seeming fondness for them, Tom had earned the same esteem from Amoss until he’d talked too much. No, it was back to Minnie’s sage directive: say as little as necessary in as few words as possible. Earlier, once the dialogue had begun flowing, he’d disregarded this advice.
They followed Unhkte along one of the wide, canvas-covered passages that connected the arcades and plazas. From above, this was the outermost of the city’s concentric circles, and a bustling army of hungry Threck happened to be heading the opposite direction to one of the plazas for mealtime. Tom, Angela, and the Threck walking with them fell i
n line behind Unhkte as the ground-quaking crowd parted and streamed by on either side. Ostensibly identical sets of curious eyes flicked by like a series of flashing pics of the same person, reminding Tom of some early animation or motion picture.
“What are these?” popped into Livetrans so many times that Tom paused input until the swarm’s numbers thinned and the corridor ahead cleared, only muddy tracks remaining.
“This way.” Unhkte gestured to a sloped ramp. “To the nursery.” She lifted her cloak from the ground and stepped onto the ramp, skating on her knee-bends down the slippery, hooked slide.
If Earth cities had been built with slides everywhere, Pablo had once remarked, there would be no wars.
Angela shoved ahead of Tom, crouched down, and launched down the slide on her backside with a “weee.” Tom followed after her, the somewhat muddy polished stone banking left and depositing him at ground level, five meters below the previous tier. A set of stairs followed the edge of the slide, obviously for trips back up, but apparently not to descend levels. Tom supposed it made sense. Who would want to go down stairs?
The group walked between two high walls that spread away from each other as they approached the doubly tall main city wall. The sound of a rushing waterway echoed in the corridor with a disorienting stereo effect. The air was cooling, and Tom could smell the moisture … and something else. He peered up as they walked. This alleyway was not shaded, revealing the violet sky’s darkening gradient as the East Ocean rose, eclipsing the Epsilon star. The last sunlight would soon leave the atmosphere.
Before reaching the end of the alley, Unhkte cut right through the only exit, an archway that led to a small, mossy riverbank, and the source of the sound. Threck City had been built atop the “Great Flow,” the widest and most consistently flowing channel of a large delta system. The city center and tower were situated just south of the channel, which entered the city through fixed bars beneath the outer wall … just there! A stone’s throw away from him! … and exited the same way at the other end of the city, near the harbor. As a geologist, Tom had devoted much of his time to studying this delta, establishing models that predicted likely and potential shifts and erosion—data he would not be sharing with the Threck any time soon. “You’re going to have to move your city in the next fifty years” didn’t feel like a prudent fun fact to share at the current juncture.
Exigency Page 21
