by Mark Wandrey
Just ahead the corridor opened up into a wide circular room. Inside were a semicircle of ten portal daises and one of them glowed in the familiar ethereal life of an active device.
"A hundred thousand years and one still works,” one of his team said in amazement.
"The others are still functional but lack an active power source," he told them. "This one has been recharged sometime in the more recent past."
"How long can Concordia technology survive?" Eric asked.
"If protected from atmospheric effects, moliplas photronic data chips have an effective infinite lifespan. Dualloy can also exist without deterioration for eons.” Chriso glanced at his computer linked to the glowing portal. “According to the portal control rod, this portal was first activated more than seven hundred thousand years ago.” It was hard to assimilate. To most humans, years that numerous were just numbers.
They trooped into the room and created a defensive perimeter around the entrance while Chriso walked to the portal and looked it over. It didn't seem possible that this item was almost three quarters of a million years old. He leaned over and brushed a tiny layer of dust from the dais; the forcefield below glowed with a pearly opalescence. He still didn't completely understand the differences between these permanently installed portals and the ones on Bellatrix, and the computer was not helping. The gaps in what they were allowed to know was sometimes glaringly obvious.
"Okay, boss?" asked Namba, the Chosen with their control rod. Not many from the Peninsula Tribe tried to be Chosen. They were an industrious and well-educated people. Should they so decide, they could represent a much higher percentage of the Chosen.
"Yeah, fine." he replied. "Query this portal for destinations." The man nodded and worked the cryptic icons that circled the rod, sliding them back and forth until a line of Concordia script was projected from one end to hover in space before them.
"Five destinations," the man said and ticked them off in the script. Chriso could read ancient Concordia better than just about any human alive, though materials science was his true specialty. In his studies of technology, his knowledge of the diverse Concordia script also grew. The language was like a perverse cross between calculus and Egyptian hieroglyphics. Those who mastered the language said it was possible to say or explain anything using it.
"Any idea where they go to?" Namba asked.
"These two are on this station," Chriso said, gesturing at the floating script. More floated by. "These two look like near space addresses. Maybe a moon facility or another station? I don't know for sure. This last one just has the Concordia word for 'origin'."
"If we picked the near space destination we could end up in a decompressed space station, or airless moon."
"That's possible," Chriso agreed, "which, of course, is why we use the network lists provided by the Tog when we travel. Too many portals are still active on dead worlds."
Nambe nodded his head in understanding. "But if we go to the one marked ‘origin’, we take the same risk."
"I don't think it’s as big of a risk. It makes sense that the origin destination is planet side.
"Why?”
"It's the first entry in the menu. In a station like this, I bet every short range portal was linked to that destination. Most of the traffic would be going between here and the surface."
"Still some risk."
"That's why we make the big money," Chriso said, and made his decision. "Activate the origin destination." Namba nodded and swirled controls on the control rod. A brief flash of green from the portal and they could see a nondescript building interior on the other side. More importantly, he could see a sliver of sunshine cutting across the floor. They already knew the planet below was habitable, yet abandoned. This meant the destination was where he hoped it had been. "Excellent job," Chriso said, and patted him on the shoulder. Namba smiled and pocketed the control rod. "Okay everyone," Chriso said to the group, "time to head out." They started to move toward the portal.
Outside the room and in the direction they came from, there was the unmistakable sound of an energy weapon being fired. The thermal decoys they'd left behind were doing their job, and now the Chosen had only moments to spare. He hurried them all though until he was the last one left. As he stepped through onto the planet surface, he could hear the sound of something heavy slithering along the floor outside.
Once on the dusty planet side floor, he spun around and swept his arm over the portal’s manual controls. A circle of floating icons appeared and he deftly moved them to new positions and the portal went into standby mode.
"That won't hold them long," Namba reminded him.
"I know that," he replied, "but with any luck it will take them a few minutes to figure out where we've gone. Check the control rod for other portals. Let’s see if we can double back on their scaly asses."
"There are two other portals, one fourteen kilometers distant, the other ninety."
"That one isn't in orbit is it?"
"I assumed you meant on the planet surface,” Namba said, eyes hooded.
"Just checking," Chriso said. "Let’s move, everyone," he said and headed for the door. “Fourteen-kilometer forced march.” There was no grumbling from these men, they were Chosen. The team headed out at a fast trot.
Chapter 4
Julast 3rd, 514 AE
Aeroport, Tranquility, Plateau Tribe
There was no one there to see Minu off to the Trials. Julast arrived as normal with torrential rains and a cold snap. The fourth was the first day anyone saw the sun for a week. Good thing too, or she wouldn't be able to leave. Few concessions were made to candidates who couldn't arrive on time for their Trials.
The air terminal was at the far eastern edge of the plateau, barely a hundred meters from a precipitous drop. The valley below, once lush with a thousand hectares of crops was now scarred brown from the harvest. Erosion in this season was always a problem, the kloth migration began before September and if the fields weren't bare, it was ten times worse. Already, the occasional tuck would be seen looking for leftovers in the fields. Kloth wouldn't be far behind.
Minu scanned the skies for any sign of her ride, and not spying it yet, turned her eyes to the waiting crowd. The usual business men filled out the ranks along with a few dozen of the more successful itinerant farmers. Most of the passengers were within a couple years either way of her age. They were kids from Tranquility like her, traveling to take the Trials. These were her competition and she carefully sized them up.
She didn't recognize any as being from her class. That in itself wasn't a surprise, Tranquility was a large city, still, she was relieved. For some reason the idea of going through the Trials with someone she knew bothered her. Likewise she wasn't surprised to see only one or two other girls, and she couldn't be sure they were going to take the Trials like her.
"There it is, momma!" yelled a young boy of no more than five, jumping from his mother's lap to run toward the barricades. The mother caught him deftly before he could go two steps and swept him onto her hip. He fidgeted and tried to escape for a moment before giving up and craning his neck for a better view.
Minu wasn't as impressed and waited patiently. Soon the drone of multiple electric engines straining against the wind was heard over the city sounds. A short time later she saw the garish green and white of the Plateau Zeppelin Line dirigible come over the edge and into view. "Coming in a little low," she mumbled. A man sitting to her left nodded his head. It was obvious the pilot was fighting the Julast winds as hard as his electric turbines would allow. A stream of sand poured from a bow ballast bin. Minu was just beginning to wonder if he'd have to circle to gain altitude before coming in when a favorable wind gust caught under its multiple sets of lateral wings. The push lifted it up and over the lip of the plateau.
The pilot expertly brought the craft around on a perfect approach. Once close enough, lines dropped and the ground crew attached them to a waiting winch which pulled the dirigible down and into the waiting
cradle. Mechanical locks clanked into place and it was locked down safely against the winds. All in a day’s work.
Minu flew in an actual airplane once before she turned ten. It scared the hell out of her, especially the landing! No, this was the way you flew. Slow and careful.
"Boarding for Flight Eleven, Plateau Capital Tranquility to Steven’s Pass, connecting to Equator Station and beyond, will be boarding momentarily. Plateau Zeppelin Line wishes to thank you for your patience and safe journey." She'd been waiting two days for the flight, the weather playing hell with the schedules. Delays of a week were not unheard of; such were the downfalls of lighter-than-air craft. If you were in that much of a hurry, you took alternative travel. The train was an option, but slower in the long run. And it didn't go directly to Steven’s Pass.
"If my dad were here he would have walked me through the portal," she'd grumbled to Jovich the other day while waiting for the delayed dirigible.
"I wouldn't be so sure of that," he'd cautioned, "your father knows the value of first impressions. No other candidates will be arriving by portal, you should be no different." Of course he was right. It was tradition that the candidates make it to the Trials by normal means, and had been since the first trial was held a hundred years ago. Hers was the twenty-fifth generation of Chosen to undergo the Trials, one every four years. Minu wondered for the first time if her father carefully planned her conception to fall within a the year of The Trials. Before she could think about it anymore, the passengers began descending down the ramp. People began to get in line for their turn to board. Wanting to get a good seat, she grabbed her duffel and joined them.
The flight left fifteen minutes after arriving. The ground crew worked furiously to get them airborne as fast as possible. Baggage and cargo was loaded, then consumables replenished. The exchange of passengers required the least amount of time. Then, lastly, a new set of capacitors were loaded. The electric turbines that gave the craft its propulsion and maneuverability required an enormous amount of energy. Domestically-made batteries were simply out of the question so they relied on Concordia-made electro-plasma-capacitors, or EPC. Her father once tried to explain to her how they were made but the understanding of the technology was lost on her young mind.
Minu found a seat not far from the door and leaned against the window for a final look at her home. They'd cast off even before she sat down and already the plateau and Tranquility had shrunk to only a hand’s-breadth across, soon to be lost in the clouds. The dirigible climbed at a steady fifty kilometers an hour, its superstructure groaning slightly as the gasbag overhead swelled from the lower pressure. The pilot found the prevailing jet stream and they were whisking on toward their destination. She leaned back and was considering a nap when she heard a voice beside her seat.
"You’re going to the Trials," the boy said. She turned her head and regarded the speaker. He had black hair and a somewhat girlish face, dark eyes and a ready smile. He was even built like a girl. Something about him spoke of barely controlled intelligence. "I know you’re going to the Trials," he repeated.
"And exactly how do you know that?"
"You’re rather young to be traveling alone," he said with a self-satisfied look.
"That is hardly enough reason to think I'm a Chosen Candidate."
"Well, you have a general look of apprehension on your face. You don't have a baggage tag that I can see, only a small duffel bag stuffed in the overhead. And you’re close to my age as well."
"How old are you?"
"Fourteen," he said.
"Well I'm almost sixteen," she told him. His eyes flickered over her reclined body, lingering for a moment on her hips and breasts. She didn't feel funny about it though; he looked at her more like someone who was verifying a scientific fact or perhaps noting the way a certain species of fly looks at a stage in its development.
"I see," he said, non-committal fashion. She gave a little laugh and he frowned.
"I'm sorry," she said and gestured to the seat next to her. "Sit and talk, I'm bored."
He smiled and sat. "My name is Pipson Leata, but everyone just calls me Pip."
"I can't imagine why," she said. "I'm Minu Alma, and I'm pleased to meet you Pip."
Finding a friend turned out to be just what the doctor ordered. Pip was probably the smartest kid Minu had ever met, easily many times smarter than most of her classmates, and probably more so than half her teachers. And he was only fourteen.
"I've always been smart," he remarked at one point. "No one in my family could ever keep up with me."
"Where are you from?"
He looked a little uncomfortable. "Well, we've been living in New Jerusalem for the last five years. My parents sent me there to attend a Montessori school because my own high school was going insane trying to keep up with me."
"I wish I was as smart as you," Minu said glumly. The mental challenges of the Trials were something she didn't look forward to.
"I wish I had your muscles," Pip replied without missing a beat. She looked into his incredibly intelligent eyes and shook her head. It was hard to imagine someone wishing they were strong instead of smart.
The dirigible reached cruising altitude and leveled off while they chatted. Shortly there was bell which rang three times in a row, a short pause, then another three times before a feminine voice came on. "Ladies and gentleman, meal service has resumed and you are now free to move about the gondola. Please observe the caution signs and be aware of any warnings they might show. The jet stream can be unpredictable this time of year and the craft may suddenly experience turbulence. Please use handholds while moving about."
The two young people looked at each other and smiled. Food! They raced each other to the cafeteria to see what there was to eat. Other passengers yelled and complained as the teenagers tore down the main hall and up the stairs. In no time they were eating mashed potatoes, carrots, a salad of greens with bitter vinegar dressing, and succulent slices of bass covered in dill sauce.
"We almost never got fish in New Jerusalem," Pip said around mouthfuls. "Lamb and kloth all the time!"
"Kloth?!" Minu said with surprise, "I didn't think anyone ate kloth anymore."
"They do there, it’s sort of a heritage thing, I think." They exchanged disgusted looks and went back to eating. Several of the other likely candidate groups drifted into the cafeteria. Minu spent a few minutes testing Pip's intelligence to see if either of the girls were candidates like her. He agreed that one very good-looking blond was likely a candidate, but the other much younger looking one was too young in his opinion. The more she looked at her, Minu had to agree. She was probably about twelve.
The cafeteria seats were filled by now and Minu noticed two boys standing with trays looking for somewhere to sit. She cocked her head in their direction and lifted an eyebrow at Pip. "You mind if I invite them to sit?"
"No, that's fine. You're probably getting bored listening to me blabber anyway."
"Don't be insecure," she said and smacked him lightly on the arm, "they just look lost." Minu caught one of their eyes and gestured to the empty seats at her table.
"Thanks," the first boy said as he took a seat, "I was beginning to think we'd have to eat standing up."
"Yeah, thanks," the other agreed.
"We're going to take the Trials," Pip volunteered. The first boy, the older of the two and appearing more self-assured just smiled.
"Yeah, we just figured that," the other answered. "My name is Gregg Larson; my new friend here is Aaron Groves."
"I'm Minu, this is Pip. And you’re welcome. Neither of you are from Plateau. You didn't get on when we did."
"No," Gregg agreed, "I'm from the Boglands, and Aaron is from New Jerusalem."
"I noticed you when I boarded in New Jerusalem," Pip said, pointing at Aaron with his fork.
The two were almost complete opposites. Gregg was a tall, thin, fair-skinned boy with blue eyes and dirty blond hair, while Aaron was a typical Israelite with an almost olive
complexion, somewhat thicker build and black hair with brown eyes. With Gregg being from the Boglands in the Southern Continent, she knew he'd been traveling for perhaps weeks to reach the Trials. New Jerusalem was only a two day flight to the south.
The four new friends spent a few minutes talking about themselves each in turn until they got to Gregg. Minu had never traveled across the great equatorial desert to the southern tribes so she was very eager to hear some tales.
"So what does your family do?" she asked him.
"We've been traveling merchants for centuries," he told them. Min's eyes got wide and she leaned closer to better hear. "We would travel between the Desert Tribes and, the Summit Tribes, and the Rusk lands."
"You actually crossed the desert?" Pip asked.
"Twice every year," Gregg said as if he were discussing a walk down the street.
"The equinoxes, right?" Minu suggested.
"Right!" he said with a striking smile. Minu felt her cheeks turn bright red and instantly got angry at herself for such a silly reaction. Pip gave her a strange look but remained silent. "Bellatrix has a very small axial tilt, though it is enough to cause some seasonal changes. So when the sun is at its farthest extreme in the fall, we travel across to the north and trade our goods with the Summit people who themselves would trade them to the other northern tribes. We'd spend part of the year in the area before heading back in the spring when the sun is at its opposite extreme."
"But why did it take so long?" Aaron asked. "I mean, the desert is wide but you couldn't make it there and back in one season so that tells me you weren't going very fast."
“Kloths aren't exactly dirigibles. They aren't made for speed."
"You rode on kloth?" Minu gasped. The very thought of being astride a ten meter long carnivorous reptile sent shivers up her spine.
