by Tim Dennis
Myles couldn't deny that. As far as he knew the recovery was going well enough. "That's not protocol." He repeated.
"Is that important to you? Protocol?" Krykowfert took another tart, forcing the entire thing into his face in two bites. He seemed to be able to eat it without moving his jaw, and when he finished, filled in the answer Myles hadn't. "No. You requisitioned a Shuttle when Central Command was in lock-down. Was that protocol?" He paused again for Myles to answer, again he didn't. "Do you think that was a wise use of resources during this crisis?"
Myles felt alarmed. Was that a violation?
"Your Council has reasons for temporarily canceling the Shuttle services. Does that also offend your sense of - protocol?" Krykowfert reached for the last tart. Myles reflexively grabbed it first.
Two each. That's fair.
Krykowfert let his hand hover over the empty plate for a moment, then retracted it and relaxed back into his seat. Myles tried to decipher the man's body language.
"Well..." Krykowfert said. "You are here now. Perhaps I can provide satisfaction?"
Why were the Shuttles canceled? Myles thought, still attempting to gauge the man's intentions.
"You want to know why the Shuttles were canceled?" Krykowfert asked.
Did I ask that out loud?
No. It must have gone out through the implant
I didn't - I mean, can he open my implant without me knowing?
The internal debate showed on Myles's face. Krykowfert let it continue for a while, then interrupted.
"As an Advocate, Myles, may I call you Myles? You should have known that the General Meetings have been canceled. I can see you didn't. But then you're unassigned, aren't you. You don't bother with the General Meetings."
Myles was used to this kind of ribbing from other Advocates, but it felt different coming from the Director of Shield Guard. There was a tone, a needling that wasn't friendly but also wasn't judgmental.
"Well," he continued, "you are here, and you are clearly curious, and as you are an Advocate I am obliged to answer reasonable questions."
Did I have questions? I had complaints.
"OK." Myles ventured. "Why are the shuttle flights canceled?"
Krykowfert smiled, looking over at Myles's second, uneaten tart. He reached out and gently pinched it between finger and thumb. Myles watched as, with a twinkle in his eye, Krykowfert slowly lifted the tart to his mouth and popped it in. The Director of Shield Guard gave it a few chews, and stood.
"Come. I have someone I'd like you to meet."
Myles paused, stood, and followed.
A short elevator ride brought Myles, Krykowfert and his Guards to the suite of rooms making up the Shield Guard Executive offices. Krykowfert introduced Feric and left Myles with her in the outer office while he himself ducked into hiw own office, came back out, and looked quizzically at her. She tilted her head at another door and Krykowfert smiled, opened it and held out his arm to Myles in a gesture of welcome. Myles entered, Krykowfert followed. A tall, pale man sat at small conference table in an equally small space. Not pale in the sense that he's spent too much time on Central Command, pale as if he was meant to be pale, born that way. A complexion of clear white with a hint of pink.
"This man," Krykowfert indicated with a wave of his hand, "is the reason for this lock-down the Council has Central Command under. Says he's a traveler. From Earth."
The words bounced off Myles. He leaned forward to shake the man's hand.
"Hello." Myles said.
Krykowfert smiled. Myles looked back at him, his face a question mark. "Advocate Tugot," he said, "this man is a traveler from Earth."
"Oh, yes. That's wonderful. From Earth you say?" Not until he spoke the words himself did the fact register. The shock of it prevented embarrassing utterances, total speechlessness stopping the stuttering thoughts from dribbling out, leaving an expression easily mistaken for calm composure. Not even questions could form in his numbed mind as his view of the room tunneled, narrowing to a tiny point before slowly expanding again.
Legongs knew history, of course. It was only a few hundred years ago after all, not counting the relativistic speeds of the Arks during transit. Mostly they were taught of the diasporas, the wars, and the inevitable decline of their ancestral homeland. He should have wondered how the man got here, why he was so pink and pale, and what he wanted. Instead he wondered if he would be able to find another guitar and be back at Harry's Cafe in time for the promised lesson.
"Oh." He finally managed to get out. "Oh." He repeated.
On his feet when the introduction was made, Myles noticed he was now sitting, and Krykowfert and the Earth-man were chatting freely about casual, meaningless things which skipped across the tranquil seas of Myles's consciousness without getting wet. He absorbed little of what was discussed around him, only occasionally being brought back to attention by the peculiar probing way Krykowfert had of staring at him. It was as if he'd only been introduced the Earthman for shock value, just to watch how he'd react. The only specific point Krykowfert wanted to make was that the Council wished to keep the Earthman's visit a secret. At the end of it Feric reappeared and Myles was transferred to the sofa across from her desk while Krykowfert and the Earth-man discussed something in tones hushed only by the continuing numbness in Myles's brain. There was an Earth-man. On Central Command. Isn't that enough to absorb in one sitting?
After an excruciatingly long time, perhaps a minute or more, Krykowfert came out of the little conference room. "I'd like you to stay on Central Command for a couple days. Feric will make the arrangements."
"Yes. Of course." Myles said.
Krykowfert looked keenly into his face. "Good lord man, you're as pale as a ghost. Why don't you go finish your drink, Feric will find you when she's ready."
Myles didn't wait for a second offer. He rose immediately, mumbled a goodbye and headed to the elevator. Forgetting about the Bar, Myles requested directions to the Shuttle Nexus, which his implant returned without hesitation. In minutes he was through the maze of private corridors, back into the more public areas of Central Command where he quickly found an elevator. He used his Advocate status and his intermittently functioning implant to requisition a Shuttle to Caldera.
Twice? In one day? That's pushing it.
There is an Earth-man on Central Command. I intend to be elsewhere.
4
Still numb from his visit to Central Command, Myles stood inside the door to Harry's cafe, counting customers. A half dozen tired looking relief workers, probably from Broad-Plain, sat inside with half empty coffee cups. Myles nodded, the exhausted youths nodded back. Any locals would be at their homes, or homes of friends, tidying up after the wetting. He waited a moment, and with no sign of Harry, walked through the cafe to the double doors leading onto the deck.
There Harry stood, back to Myles, thick fingers gripping the railing. Myles watched Harry slowly bend his knees, then launch himself into the air, landing heavily, all the time gripping the rail. He paused, and then jumped again.
"New exercise routine?" Myles asked.
"Shit!" Harry spun to face him. "You nearly gave me a heart attack. No! Don't come out." He took Myles by the elbow and led him back into the cafe. "S.I. Div closed the deck, they think the wave might have weakened the cliff face."
Myles pulled away and took a few steps out. If the deck could hold Harry it could certainly hold him. He stood at the rail, looking over the lagoon. The low ring of islets looked much as they had that morning, a few less trees, a displaced building or two. A Skimmer cut into the lagoon between two of the keys, making straight for the narrow strip of sand two hundred meters below them.
"That's Bento," Said Harry. "She said you went up to Central Command to tear those Council hags a new one. Good for you!"
"Yeah. I wanted to talk about that."
"Oh, you know I don't get into politics. Bento'll be here in a minute..."
"I didn't see the Council. I saw Krykowfert."
Harry stopped. "Krykowfert? What for? No! Don't tell me. If it's Guard business, that's worse than politics." Harry disappeared into his kitchen, leaving Myles alone on the deck. The Skimmer was out of view, directly below them on the beach, and he could already hear the crunch of Cab-legs on the gravel outside. A few moments later Harry returned with guitar in hand and Bento close behind.
"I'm hot, sweaty, and my back is tense," she said, jumping on Harry's back and wrapping her legs around his waist.
"I promised Myles a lesson." Harry replied.
"Didn't you leave your guitar at the farm?" She asked.
"No. It was in the emergency buoy."
Bento felt the briefest moment of guilt. "They'll find it." It was clear she had plans for Harry, so Myles turned to excuse himself, but instead stopped, thinking of what to say.
"He met with Krykowfert." Harry said.
Bento slipped down from Harry's back and waved a finger at Myles. "Leave it alone, Myles."
"No. He was fine. He told me - showed me this - I mean he..." Myles struggled with just how much he could tell. Krykowfert had wanted him to stay on Central Command, he'd warned him that the Council was trying to keep the Earthman's presence hushed up, but no one actually said 'don't tell.'
That's a technicality.
Bento watched the familiar process of Myles' confused speech graduate into confused thought. "The Farm's doing fine." She guessed, wrongly. "If you hurry, Clark's taking another load of equipment out. He'll drop you. Take my Cab."
Myles thought once more about telling them about the Earthman, it was obvious they just didn't want to know, so he took Bento's Cab and fell into deep thought as it picked its way along the gravel path, past his own little row house on the terraces above the city, down through the denser neighborhoods and around the monolithic City-Center building itself to the beaches below. Clark had waited, no doubt instructed so by Bento, and in no time at all Myles was back across the lagoon to the little Key that held his parent's farm.
The beach looked little worse than before, the mangroves having done their job of keeping flotsam off the pastures and fields. An S.I. Skimmer from Broad Plain was still on the beach, and the Surface Infrastructure crews were busy righting trees and pounding sand. Those that recognized Myles as an Advocate saluted. Those that didn't just kept on with their work.
Up through the mangroves and between the fields, the water had washed away the gravel leaving only the sterile, reddish-yellow Legong dirt. He was pleased to see the jacarandas had survived.
What had caused the wave? He asked himself.
Ask your implant.
Another relief crew, mostly his neighbors from the Main Island, filled the farmyard, freeing soggy sheep from flotation gear and re-setting buildings on foundations. Those that recognized Myles ignored him, while those that didn't offered tentative salutes. An out-thrust hand stopped him.
"Stand back, we're re-Makering this foundation." A Guard said.
Myles stood and waited as a pair of workers played the crystalline blue beam from a meter-square box along the bottom edge of the cow barn. Krykowfert's self-reliance initiative was proving to be fast and efficient.
"Over here, Myles!" his mother called out from the slaughtering shed. "They're doing the shed next. Help me move the tools."
Knocked from its foundation, the displaced shed left the drainage ruts exposed where a glossy red liquid overflowed onto the sandy ground. Myles shuddered and stepped back, almost dropping the armload of knives and pulley parts Ma had slipped into his arms.
"I'd have thought the flood would've rinsed that clean." He said.
"That's not from the slaughtering shed." His mother tipped her head in the direction of a pile of cow parts lying on the ground beside a kneeling Cab. Things that were usually inside the cow lay outside on the dirt, and the sight, more so than any imagined smell, offended him.
"Myles!" A shout from Li, Myles's older brother, as a pig shot from the Cab past the cow-pile.
"Oh he's no use." Mallick, watching it all from his perch on the recently restored fence, dropped his aged bones onto the damp ground and pretended to chase after the pig, who had already been caught by Myles's father. Pa fought to control the beast, straining to give Myles an acknowledging nod. The man's eyes rolled back in his head and both he and the pig stilled for a moment. It looked like an implant-connection. Myles closed his eyes and concentrated. The pig looked up with curiosity.
Hello? Dad?
Nothing. I'm not getting anything.
"Myles." Ma said aloud. "Myles?"
He opened his eyes. "I thought Dad was trying to connect."
Ma had brought her tools over to the cow barn, now resting solidly on the repaired foundation. "We can leave these in the barn for now."
Mallick climbed up into the cab, surveying the work crews and taking credit for saving the pig. "Found him in an emergency buoy." He said. "They weren't even gonna check. 'No active implants inside' they said. They'd have just left the thing in the sea if I hadn't been there." In all likelihood Mallick had been nowhere near the rescue.
The pig attempted escape, Pa renewed his grip and the two wrestled. The action was clearly between Pa and pig, but all eyes seemed to be on Myles. His face flushed, he tried to check his implant.
Ma? Is that you?
She stared at him from the open door of the main barn. He looked down at his armload of slaughtering equipment.
Forget the implant. Just get the tools over to the barn.
Myles and his pig-encumbered Pa reached the pens outside the cow barn at the same time. Exhausted from the struggle, Pa heaved the pig off the ground and thought at Myles with considerable force. The animal stopped squealing and again all eyes fell on Myles.
Help? You want some help?
His father nodded awkwardly, the veins of his neck standing out like a marathon runner. Myles looked at the quiet pig, hind legs held tight by Pa, its forehead resting on the ground, neck and belly exposed. It tilted a little, not to free itself, but rather the better to see Myles.
Oh!
Myles selected a long, thin blade and dropped the rest. He fell to his knees and in a textbook perfect demonstration of humane slaughtering technique, thrust the knife into the pig's neck, twisting it side to side, neatly severing the important bits. As the blood pooled in the sand at his feet, Myles wiped the blade clean on the beast's belly. Pa stared at Myles, then down at the pig, then back at Myles. Mallick snickered under his breath.
"Oh." Ma looked away from the pig, fixing her eyes on Pa.
Myles looked from one parent to the other. The pig's final heart beats pumped its remaining blood onto the dirt. Pa waited for the bleeding to stop, then lowered the carcass to the ground. "That was a prize-winner, Myles."
"Yes, great! That should make a terrific feast!" He looked around at the relief workers, each looking away, busying themselves with some task.
"We breed the winners, Myles."
Myles's mind fell silent. His mother avoided his eyes but his Father looked back, expressionless.
"Oh." said Myles.
Another moment passed silently. Father spoke.
"I meant-"
"-the gate. Yes. I see it now." Myles replied. Behind him, the gate to the pig pen remained shut and latched.
Father took a deep breath and walked off the strain of carrying the weight. When he came back, he bent over the pig and examined the cut.
"Not bad. What's it been, ten years?"
"Like riding a bike I guess."
Pa turned to Ma and tried to put some cheer into his voice. "Well mother, I suppose we're expected to feed the relief crews anyway."
By the time Myles had the pig cleaned and gutted the relief crews had left and the farm showed little evidence of the morning's inundation. Alone in the silence, Myles counted the streaks in the darkening sky. Flashes of light erupted across the shadowy shape of an orbiting station and an instant later a meteor exploded into a thousand fragments, each smal
l enough for the atmosphere to consume before reaching the settlements below. To the north and south no such protections existed, and the skies along those horizons scintillated in response to the never-ending assault.
"Myles?" Pa stood in the open kitchen door, holding out a towel. "We haven't hooked the house back up yet. You'll have to wash off in the shed." The shifting light of his parent's second floor bedroom window caused shadows to dance around the courtyard.
"Look, I, um, I'm sorry about the pig." Myles said, reaching for the towel.
"I know. I should have just asked out loud... It's OK." They stood a moment longer, both holding onto the towel.
"There's something I wanted to talk about. Some work stuff. I wanted yours and mom's opinion on something."
"Let's leave that 'til the morning. Your mother's already gone up." His father looked at Myles's uncertain expression. "Um. We'll have the crews back tomorrow night, have a proper feast."
Myles nodded. His father let go of the towel and Myles walked across the farmyard to the slaughtering shed. He stripped down, adjusted the jets low and warm and stood naked in the converging streams of water, reaching out with a foot to drag his bloodied clothes into the spray.
Satisfied, or perhaps just bored, Myles shut the slaughtering shed off. Without the light from his parents' window the farmyard felt eerily dark, a damp warmth rising from the ground as he followed the sleeping noises of pigs and cattle toward the pens. Draping his wet clothes over a rail, he paused to stare over the ring of oaks at the distant glow of City Center, kilometers away across the now placid lagoon. The relief workers would all be home by now. That was where he should be, in his own little house on the terraces above the city. Another flash up above caught his attention.
How many actually reach the surface? He wondered, and in the quiet, solitary surrounding Myles's implant responded, pouring into his mind reams of statistics and reports of the few isolated incidents where meteors had actually slipped through and impacted Legong's surface. He tried to shake it off, hurried into the house and felt his way up the stairs to his childhood room. After quietly closing the door he slipped under the covers, fresh and clean thanks to a woman who was still his mother despite him being an adult, an Advocate and a misfit.
