Of a Note in a Cosmic Song; Part One

by Nōnen Títi

  Markag gave him a death glare and then looked behind him to see if the news crew had heard this. They hadn’t, but were straining to pick up some words. “I can have you removed from the base and sent to Breberer,” he answered Aryan in just as low a voice.

  “And I can step up to that camera right now and tell all the people via live connection what I just told you.”

  Markag glared at him once more before speaking to the waiting newscaster. “We’ll do this without mentioning the device. The people will forget about it.”

  “Or you could tell them it’s already installed and say later that it malfunctioned,” Aryan couldn’t help suggesting.

  “I will just speak with Krakat during this interview and you’ll be hearing from me,” Markag replied.

  Aryan gave him a grin and left the room with the designer, who was no longer needed either. He offered her a cup of wine in the office. “Look I’m real sorry about your device, but we couldn’t afford the time. As it is we still might not make it.”

  “After what you just did I wonder if you’ll make it at all,” she replied, and accepted the wine.

  “He was just trying to save face. He can’t take me off the project. Without me there is no project.”

  But Aryan wasn’t absolutely confident about that. He might be the best, he might have been involved from the start, but there were more pilots capable of flying a spacekabin. Markag wouldn’t care if they were able to land it as well since nobody on DJar would ever find out.

  He stayed in the office until word came that the interview was over and the team was leaving.

  Krakat sat down next to him after seeing them off. “I’ve mentioned you as the only pilot who can do this at least three times. Markag will have to be pretty hard driven to replace you now.”

  “Thanks.” Aryan had no doubt that Markag could be pretty hard driven, but he was glad for the support.

  “No worries. You stood up for me.”

  A day later Aryan flew to the northern continents once again to talk to the leaders there, since even with the children allowed to go the farmers were still reluctant.

  “No more concessions,” Frantag had told him. “We have to make our numbers and the farmers are more important than any others.”

  The Menever leaders were willing to increase the pressure in order to get enough volunteers. Aryan was shown news articles which were spreading around the continent: mysterious crop destructions and some people removed from their land. “They’re only rumours, but they work,” he was told.

  The Veleder leader made it clear from the moment Aryan arrived that he would not give in to any demands. “We have a set of volunteers. That’s half of what you wanted. It will have to do.”

  “I have my orders,” Aryan told him.

  “So have I and I’ve decided to ignore them. You government people just come waltzing in here and turn our people into slaves for the good of Geveler, not DJar!”

  He was a sturdy man with a beard like Aryan’s, only shorter and white. He stood with his arms folded as if to physically protect his island from Aryan’s invasion. “I’ll tell you now that I’m only two years from Life. I’ll do anything to stop you from buying off my people. I have nothing to lose,” he said.

  Aryan had never been made out for a government official before. He was being threatened in the same way that he’d stood up against Markag only two days ago.

  “I have no wish to buy your people. I’ll take the set,” he said and reported back to Kalgar and Frantag on Firstday of the fourth moon. “I’m not going to force them. Get some more users, some more workers. Let the volunteers train them. How hard can it be to keep some cattle alive?”

  Frantag replied, “I’m not fighting with you over that, nor will I be the one to report that we can’t make our numbers. You can do that. Markag will be pleased to see you.”

  “News got wings?”

  Kalgar threw down the Veleder report he’d been holding. “Okay, we’ll do with a set from Veleder. We’re in greater need of crop farmers anyway. Recruit some more out of Menever.”

  “Am I still in, then?”

  “Only because Kalgar stood up for you,” Frantag replied.

  Aryan didn’t ask for the details. No doubt Frantag would volunteer them, but just to provoke him Aryan sat down on top of the desk instead of using a chair.

  “Let’s just concentrate on the future and not on things past. We have enough to do without this kind of nonsense,” Kalgar said and pushed Aryan in the back. Aryan obliged and took the plush chair he’d come to like. It was deep and allowed him to doze off when things got really boring.

  Kalgar asked how many more Menever farmers they’d need. Aryan repeated that they were no more willing than the Veleder people but were being betrayed by their leaders, who had their eye on a place in central government.

  “As long as they assign some in the next moon I don’t care how they do it. Everybody has to give for the betterment of DJar,” Frantag said, walking up and down the room, his words measured like his paces and what he was saying was a repeat of the same garbage that was always used as an excuse.

  “These are free people, Frantag.”

  “They’re free people without a job. That makes them useless people,” Frantag said, his thumbs inside the pockets of his suit jacket.

  Another suit, another kick below the belt. Aryan looked at Kalgar for help, aware that his temper was rapidly getting shorter, but Kalgar made no move to step in. Taking a deep breath, Aryan tried again to explain the trouble he was having on Menever. He had no way left to recruit more farmers. Besides, there were plenty without skills who wanted to go who could be trained. He stressed that a bit of flexibility with the rules would solve all their problems. He was sick and tired of these discussions and really sorry he’d insisted on being an equal leader for the journey. “Why don’t you go talk to the farmers?” he asked Frantag, who stood in front of the large window, looking out over the city. “They’re not users and they’re not animals and I’m not going back there.”

  “They’re still only activators.”

  Within fractions of raising his hand, Aryan found himself shoved against the back of the same chair he’d just pushed himself out of. The thump of the impact made him gasp. The arm he had intended to punch Frantag with was being pressed down beside him. His effort to push back was fruitless because Kalgar was using his full weight to pin him down.

  “Don’t you ever again use your hands to make a statement,” Kalgar hissed. His face, so close that Aryan could see a vessel pulsing at the side of his eye, was grim and pale and his breath smelled of smoke.

  Aryan felt like punching again, now to get out of this confinement. He didn’t need this. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry.” He sat up as soon as Kalgar stepped back and let the air back into his system.

  “We’re all equally capable of speaking in a decent manner. There’s no need to resort to violence,” Kalgar said.

  “Some a bit more equal than others,” Aryan muttered.

  “Yes, some a bit more, which means I can still throw you off this whole project if I want to, pilot or not.”

  Frantag hadn’t said anything yet. He kept his distance and looked even paler than Kalgar did.

  “You’re right in a way. We cannot force people if they’re not users, but we need those farmers. I will go to Menever,” Kalgar said, picking up the conversation again.

  Relieved, Aryan sat back. That was twice in one moon. A year and a half had he worked on the kabin and nothing else. He could lose it just as fast as Markag could give orders and his freedom on DJar along with it. He waited for Frantag to leave the room at the end of the meeting. “Whatever happened with Markag, thank you.”

  Kalgar stood looking at him for a while before speaking. “It isn’t that easy.”

  “What isn’t?” Aryan asked.

  “You are to go and officially apologize to Markag and the government.”

  “What?”

  “That’s the challe
nge, Aryan. You insulted him.”

  “Crawl for these people?” He couldn’t believe it.

  “Basically.”

  “Or else what?”

  “Or else I’ll be forced to replace you.”

  Aryan stared at the wall in front of him. Somewhere beyond those panels was the office where the government met. He tried to picture himself there saying sorry. He couldn’t. “Can’t they wait two more stations and be rid of me? They wouldn’t put the whole mission into jeopardy for this?”

  “How about you play by the rules for just once? The DJar rules for two more stations?” Kalgar asked, and he slid the partikels into his wallet one by one.

  “I can’t believe this.”

  “Nor can I believe that you would even consider not doing it. If you’re removed a moon before the final crew list we’ll all be in trouble. I thought this journey meant everything to you?”

  Aryan didn’t answer. It did mean everything to him.

  “You have four days to think about it. They meet on Fifthday at nine.” Kalgar said and he opened the door to leave the office.

  Aryan followed him out and caught up to him in the hall. “I’m not used to apologizing for something I don’t think was wrong and definitely not when I’m being told to.”

  “It’s up to you, Aryan. If you find it more important to stick to your principles than to go on the kabin, then forget it.”

  With that Kalgar walked away and Aryan had no choice but to return to his temporary home. His whole life he’d kicked against the system; he was just stations away from being free of it all, and now he seemed to have run into big trouble. He sat up late, drank too much wine and in the end called Maike on his spinner to complain.

  “Do you mind calling me at a more decent time?” she asked from her bed.

  Only then did he realize that it was the middle of the night. “Sorry. I wasn’t thinking,” he apologized and went on to tell her what had happened.

  “So do it. Go in there. Politely tell them what they want to hear. Then walk back out and think to yourself that you’re still the winner because they can’t stop you leaving.”

  “You make it sound so easy.”

  “You’re too bigheaded. Don’t let your pride ruin your chances or I’ll have to send you waves from the kabin telling you how beautifully she flies. Now let me get back to sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

  Aryan still couldn’t believe what was being asked of him. Maike might be right that he shouldn’t throw away his chance, but those were only words.

  He fell into a restless sleep. The man in his dream was short, too well dressed, too much the perfect office-general, wearing a suit which got him respect even if he beat the shit out of his son. Aryan woke up just when the guards had him surrounded. He was sweating; his heart pounded in his ears as he walked to the washroom. He let the hot air of the chemwash blow through his hair until the smell made him sick. A swim in the sea would have been more effective, but all he had was the water from the drinktank. He poured a cupful over his head. It helped a bit, but he was still on edge when Maike came two hours later.

  “I’ll record the truth. If they throw me onto Breberer, you can make it public. If I go down I’ll make sure I won’t be the only one.”

  “Don’t be stupid. That’ll never work. Just swallow your pride for two minutes. Tell them you’re sorry for losing your temper. That should be true. You don’t have to tell them you were wrong in what you said.”

  She sat down in the only chair the apartment had and kicked off her shoes, relaxed as if it wasn’t a big deal.

  “That might work for you, but I can’t do that.” He was annoyed. He’d come to her so she could help him find a way out of this mess. “If you’re going to take their side you may as well leave me alone,” he told her.

  “I am on your side; that’s why I’m telling you to do it. I want to know it’ll be you flying the kabin. Just rehearse the words until they mean nothing anymore.”

  “I don’t care about the words, but I’m not going in there to humiliate myself.”

  “If I’d stuck with pride in that camp, Aryan, I’d be dead by now. If those with the soldiers tell you to do something, you do it. And believe me, I’ve had to do worse things than apologize in public.”

  Aryan’s spinner beeped just as he was about to get some wine to clear his headache. He pressed the on-switch for audio only.

  “It’s me, Krakat. I’m making plans for us to fly up to the kabin on Fourthday. There are some problems I need you for and it’ll be a good opportunity to see her for real.”

  “What problems?”

  Maike snatched the spinner out of his hands and transferred the call to the wave-unit, switching on the visual. “Excuse him for being rude.” Then she handed it back and took the wine off him. “Coffee,” she said.

  “That’s okay,” Krakat answered from the screen. He looked no better than Aryan felt. “We can’t fit the reflector tubing all the way around the pilot section. That means you’ll be spending every day with artificial light unless we can reroute it somehow.”

  “So what do I do about it?” Aryan asked.

  “The impact on the layout of the bay may be significant. You need to come and have a look.”

  “You know, Krakat, I don’t give a hoot at the moment. You do what you think best.” As soon as he’d said it, Aryan hesitated. “…Is there life-support up there yet?”

  “Not yet. Man, I thought you’d be thrilled to finally set foot on her.”

  Maike stepped in his way. “He can’t go, Krakat. If he’s not in the city on Fifthday, he’ll never leave on that kabin.”

  “I’m sorry if I called at a bad time, but I can’t wait. There’s a riser scheduled for Fourthday,” Krakat said.

  “I’ll be there. Don’t—”

  “No, he won’t.” In one sentence Maike gave Krakat a summary of the problem.

  “That bad? I’m sorry, mate. I’d postpone if I could.”

  As soon as he disconnected Aryan turned to Maike. “Have you nothing better to do than to arrange my life for me?”

  “You called me, remember?”

  “I had too much wine last night,” he said.

  “Yeah and it’s still in your head.”

  “I don’t see any need to go and tell everybody how I’m supposed to make a fool of myself in front of Markag and those pricks.”

  “You’re making a fool of yourself right now. If anybody was entitled to a reason for why you suddenly didn’t give a hoot anymore, it was Krakat.” She placed her hands on her hips to block his way.

  “What are you? A member of the morality guard, the Sacred Praise?” he scoffed and pushed past her to make the coffee. “I’m going over there to help him solve the problem and neither you nor Markag nor anybody else will stop me!”

  She snorted. “You can’t hide in a spacekabin without life-support for two stations.”

  “I’m not going to hide!”

  “Oh damn you, Aryan. I can read you like a partikel-wave.” She stepped into her shoes, walked to the door and opened it. “Okay, go, but don’t expect any help from me ever again.”

  He stood with the coffee in his hands wondering why she was leaving.

  “And if you need to talk to someone at two in the morning, go talk to the guards, because that’s all you’ll have left to talk to.” She slammed the door so hard it rattled the window.

  He listened to her footsteps going down the street before throwing the coffee onto the counter to go after her. Halfway across the room he stopped and rammed his fist down on the wave-unit so hard the pulseboard came off and shattered on the floor. He dropped down on his bed and cursed at everything. Now he’d made Maike walk out. She’d never lost her patience with him. He‘d seen her lose it with others, but she would just smile at his ranting when things went wrong. She would leave on the kabin. The kabin he had helped build. The kabin he could go and see on Fourthday and finally feel her; the kabin that would take him away from DJar, leade
rs and rules. If he’d only keep his big mouth shut for two more stations.

  If only Krakat hadn’t called to tell him of this chance. If he hadn’t known he might be able to stay and play their game, but to know Krakat would go up there, be the first to step inside, while Aryan would have to... No, he could never do that!

  He drank two cups of wine while packing. There would be only one flight to Minagua today. He would have to hurry or miss it. Damn Maike. Damn all of them. No way would he humiliate himself. No way would they be able to stop him going. Krakat wouldn’t talk. Nobody would know he was already up there. It would be a good way to test the emergency breathing equipment. He’d do Branag a favour.

  He finished the wine and walked out the door. The memory of her angry footsteps was echoed by his own. He wasn’t going to beg for his job; he was no coward! Especially not for some arrogant prick like Markag. They’d never find out… unless that same person who had leaked the information about the device told them. Whoever that was!

  At the depot entrance Aryan stopped and looked around. The street was quiet. “I’m no user,” he’d told Maike. Damn her, he felt like one now, worried the security alarm would go off on him. That they would find him on the base and he’d never get on that kabin. He’d never see Maike again… or any other woman for that matter. Could he live like that for another twelve years, knowing all the while that Markag was laughing at him? That Maike was on the kabin? His kabin!

  “Oh, damn this whole stupid planet!” he yelled down the stairs so it echoed back at him from the void. He kicked a stone and watched it tumble step by step. Then he turned around and walked home.

  Geveler City

  8/3/4/6184

  Since their visit to the island Brita called regularly but Daili didn’t know how to deal with the situation any more than she did. At Brita’s request she visited the city on the second-last freedays of Station Four. The girls went to play right away. This new friendship was doing Laytji a lot of good; she’d never had many friends.