by Tim Dennis
"You'd better eat something Tugot," Norte said, "We leave at dark." Peto was already out of the pilothouse, feeding. Norte dropped into the empty seat, Myles climbed out. "And take a crap," she added. "Once we hit the road you're glued to this viewer, you got that?"
Myles watched Peto scarf down a Legong-supplied fungus ration.
Eat.
Later.
He glanced back at the pilothouse, left Peto in the kitchen and went down the stairs to the basement. Dropping outside the hatch, he examined Norte's stolen car. Before they'd started the rotating watches Norte had queried the ship. The ground vehicle was a replica of one common almost a thousand years ago. It was of a period early in powered, wheeled transport, and as such was imperfect in its operation. It was not original, of course, and it was fully capable of anything a Legong Cab could do, except of course rise above the ground. As Myles looked it over it seemed that the curves and pieces could only have been formed by hand. There was nothing practical or efficient about them, they were simply elegant ways of covering up the structure.
Myles climbed the nearest ridge, giving him a clear view of the island city. Like that first night it was lighting itself, and Myles couldn't help but image the people it must contain. He imagined children being put to bed while the adult population prepared for play. He longed to be with them, to meet them, mix with them and know them. He felt certain he would be welcomed, that this whole nav tool nonsense was a mistake, a misunderstanding easily cleared up by calm discourse.
"Psst!" Came a sound from below.
He looked down at Peto, waved his arms and pointed to the easy route up the rise. Peto ignored him and climbed straight up the steep crumbling slope. He stood with Myles silently, watching the same city, perhaps thinking the same thoughts, perhaps thinking nothing at all. The moon appeared on the horizon as a mere sliver, to feeble to chase the sun from the sky. Myles watched it, figuring the mechanics in his head.
Peto looked at Myles, then at the sliver of moon, trying to be interested. Myles could stay and wonder about celestial mechanics, Peto had to go down there, across the water to the city, he had real work to do.
26
Norte drove carefully past the houses of their naked, dancing neighbors, past the vehicle storage property, and into the dark night beyond. Peto's head and shoulders rose behind her, his hands occupied in the abnormally small cargo compartment rearranging carts, bags and pistol. He took the latter and climbed into the more spacious front seat beside her.
"Give me that!" Norte took the pistol from him and tossed it back into the cargo compartment. The momentary distraction allowed the back end of the vehicle to slip off the solid roadway onto the gravel edge. Stones rattled on the bodywork and the engine raced.
"Hey!" Peto yelled. "You forget. We're actually touching the ground, this isn't a Skimmer!"
Cabs touch the ground, but with a normal, human pat-pat-pat of feet. Skimmers, as Peto pointed out, just skim. The rumbling and thrumming of the tires on the road unnerved Norte, nevertheless, she was reluctant to admit Peto was right, so she continued in her reckless manner. With every bump and slide Peto's fingers gripped the door and his feet jerked off the floor. The road ahead disappeared into the lake. Norte slowed, pulled the vehicle off onto the gravel, stopped, and got out.
Begining where the roadway ended a broad sheet of fabric ran off across the lake, caught in mid flutter, hopping into the darkness in delicate arches from islet to islet. Soft in texture but hard to the touch. Rigid. Unflappable. She looked back at Peto, fishing his pistol from the cargo compartment. A shadow suddenly appeared before her. Her own, created by powerful lights coming up behind her. She dove to the gravel leaving Peto to stare down the brightness, caught in mid turn, mouth agape and eyes unblinking.
Two lights rose up over the curve of the insubstantial bridge and swooped down on them. They passed quickly, revealing a vehicle, wheeled like hers, but of the slab-sided variety with swooping silver trim and two-tone coloring. Norte brushed off her knees and elbows, climbed back into her own vehicle.
"Get in!"
Peto shook his head and pointed at the paper-thin road. "We're ON THE GROUND. We have mass!"
Norte pulled back onto the road, leaned over and pushed the passenger door open. She waited a few seconds, reached back over to close it. Peto stopped her, grunted, and sat down beside her. She immediately accelerated straight at the delicate ribbon, hitting it squarely and flying out over the lake. Peto braced himself and closed his eyes. Instead of a splash, the sound of tire-on-surface returned, followed by another silent whoosh, and so on.
The arching cloth took them over the shallow waters from islet to islet, rows of small rectangular hillocks, a spindly tree at each corner, some unknown crop growing within. Almost a kilometer of this passed before they arrived on the island itself, and agriculture was replaced by increasingly dense housing. Those avenues that were broad and straight were also well traveled, so Norte kept to the narrow streets flanking them. The move was a mistake, and she spent many precious minutes reversing and hunting for a route to the complex of stone towers that marked their target. One last turn and before them spread a low, flat-roofed building. A glance to the left revealed the museum itself, four times larger than the building in front of them, a massive sprawl of stone. Norte drove right up to the steps.
"Out! Go! I'll be watching for you."
Peto carefully opened the door and unfoled an UpBuggy from the small cargo space, tossing into it a couple FloaterBags. He'd barely assembled his portage before Norte tore away, slipping the car into a copse of trees arranged in a little square across from the entrance. With neither wheels nor legs the UpBuggy wouldn't go up the stairs so he left it, took the FloaterBags and climbed to the tall wooden doors. He paused, glancing across at the western mountains, wondering which point of light might be the little village that hid his ride home. Imagining Norte's admonishment he huffed frustratedly, turned, and entered the building.
Peto stood in a high ceilinged vestibule, as deep as the exterior portico, itself opening into the middle of a long gallery which extended to his left and right, running almost the full breadth of the building. He cautiously stepped forward, tilted his head back and looked straight up at the ceiling. Something in the quality of light changed. Laid out on plinths to his left were a line of models of pyramids that reminded him of the vehicle storage property the night before. Some resembled the terraced stuctures surrounding him now while others were smooth-sided with pointed tops. To his right lay two rows of plinths, some supporting stone figures of crazy-eyed long-toothed monsters, others holding animal-headed human figures in un unknown material, black as carbon. It gave him the creeps.
Peto left the statues behind and walked forward into the central courtyard, trying to remember where the celestial mechanics exhibit was. The quality of light changed again. In the center of the large courtyard rose a smaller version of the stepped pyramids making up the corners of the complex. Faint shadows danced along its top.
"Welcome. We don't get many visitors this time of night."
Peto's heart raced, his vision tunneled. Right hand slipped into pocket. Empty. Norte had made him leave his pistol in the car. He tried to concentrate. His implant was useless. Count to ten. Pounding is just your heartbeat. He turned slowly to face the voice.
A man, as dark as the animal-heads and ugly as the carved monsters greeted him with a smile. "Is there anything in particular you've come to see?" asked Nafasi.
If this was an Earther it certainly didn't look like Traveler. Peto's lips tightened, his nostrils made a whistling noise. Hyperventilation combined with lack of sleep made him light headed. He tried to calm his breathing and forced himself to look the man in the eye. He was old, much older than Peto, and slight of build.
"Celestial Mechanics!" Peto blurted. "Technology. Late Diaspora. Celestial Mechanics. Celestial mechanics."
"This way." The man cheerfully replied. He turned and led Peto around the central pyrami
d toward the upper level gallery opposite the entrance. "I haven't seen you here before, have you come a long way?"
Peto grabbed again for his missing pistol. "Yeah. I'm not from around here."
"Are you interested in history generally, or is it just Late Diaspora?" The man offered Peto the lead up the steep stairs. Peto stood rigidly, eyes staring.
"I like lots of stuff." Peto's heart continued its pounding, his breathing quickened. The man continued up, Peto followed three steps behind. When they reached the top the man turned. He looked at Peto's floating bags.
"I can see you must have come straight to the museum. Would you like me to hold your bags while you explore?" He held his hand out.
Peto tightened his grip and didn't speak.
"My daughter has a spare room, I could bring you there after your visit, if you need a place to stay."
Peto's whole body shook. There had been so much focus on avoiding the natives Norte hadn't told him what to do if he met one.
"Celestial Mechanics," and then, remembering his mother's childhood admonitions: "Please!"
The man nodded, let his smile fall away and continued along the colonnade. Peto followed, always a few steps behind, always with hand fumbling in pocket. A row of small, high windows let in what little light the stars provided. This new gallery mirrored the one through which he'd entered. Rows of life-sized statues lined the walls, some fitting neatly into the style of stonework that defined the building, others invoking different aesthetics. Some of the displays held small statuettes, and in these cases he could see that the styles had been classified, as if each represented a differing style of human. Each group of similar size, exhibiting similar features. With every shift of light the statues moved, stoney eyes following him, halting as he turned to catch them. Peto swore under his breath that he'd never again let Norte take his pistol away. He snapped his head from side to side, knuckles white in the bags handles. Ten meters ahead of him the man stopped and held out his arm in a sweeping gesture.
"I believe this is what you came for."
Peto caught up and looked through the open doorway. Many small machines sat on plinths arranged within the room. None more than a meter square, most much smaller. Peto looked back at the man. From this point in the long corridor the statues lining the walls seemed all to be turned away, as if avoiding his gaze. He looked down at the two bags, then back at his guide.
"Are you feeling all right?" The man asked.
"I'm fine. I just want to look around."
The man smiled. "Let me show you our collection."
"I'm fine. I'm fine." Peto's heart was about to fly from his chest. Numbness traveled up his legs.
"It's no inconvenience, you may find you have questions."
The man stepped past Peto into the room. Peto followed him, his fingers let slip the floater bags and reached out for one of the little displayed machines. Hands grasped. Arms lifted. The machine came down on the back of Nafasi's head. A muffled thud echoed along the gallery as the old man's body hit the stone floor. Peto froze, listened.
Echo. That was an echo.
"This is Nafasi," said a woman's voice. "He is dead. If an ambulance is called now he has a ninety-five percent chance of recovery."
Peto spun, looking for the source of the voice.
"Do you wish to call an ambulance?"
"No! I'm fine. He's fine."
Peto suffered an eternity of absolute silence.
"That is incorrect." The voice said. "An Ambulance will arrive in two minutes."
The bloodied machine in Peto's hands chose this moment to shed a tiny switch damaged by the previous impact with Nafasi's skull. It rattled onto the floor.
Peto spun again and Nafasi's shadow shifted in the faint starlight. Peto hurled the machine down at his head, dropped to his knees and grabbed him, smashing his face into the floor over and over again until the cold smack of stone gave way to a crushing sound. Peto dropped the head and leapt to his feet. The FloaterBags had floated, remaining a half-meter above the floor but drifting down the dark corridor between the stone figures. Avoiding the stone eyes he took a few steps to retrieve the bags. Returning, he stepped wide over Nafasi's growing pool of blood.
Two minutes!? What are minutes? Why does everything have to be different?
Frantically he looked around the room, trying to decide which machines he could take.
How long is minutes? When is the ambulance coming?
"The ambulance will arrive in ninety seconds."
"Seconds? What happened to minutes? Shit!" A green glow appeared at Peto's feet. It stretched out along the floor, down the corridor to the top of the stairs.
"The toilets are at the base of the main staircase." The woman's voice remained calm and unwavering.
"Just leave me alone, you've got to leave me alone!"
Peto ran from plinth to plinth. Anything that didn't fit into the bags was tossed to the floor. He pulled the full FloaterBags over the body into the corridor.
Which way did we come?
Peto looked left and right, the statues gave him no clues. "Which way is out!"
The green glow re-appeared at his feet, stretching away along the floor back towards the broad open stairs down into the courtyard. Peto ran, careening down the stairs, around the central pyramid toward the entrance. The big wooden doors opened and a three meter long blue-glowing ellipsoidal capsule shot past him. Peto fell to the ground, the capsule missing his head by centimeters.
Peto stumbled down the stairs. The FloaterBags got away from him, sliding into the open avenue before rebounding and automatically attaching themselves to the UpBuggy waiting outside. Norte and he vehicle shot out from the reed garden.
"Wait! It tilts." Norte flipped the front seat forward and Peto crammed the bags in behind it.
"We gotta go. Now!" Peto cried.
"Did you see that?" Norte asked.
Peto wrestled with the seat, finally climbing in beside her. "Go! NOW!"
For the first time in her life Norte took an order from Peto. She floored the go-pedal. The tires squealed like the Tugot farm on market day and the vehicle slid a little to the right before hurtling itself forward. Peto turned and hysterically struck at the panel covering the cargo space.
"Why'd you take this thing, there’s so much stuff in the way!"
Quickly over the hump-bridged causeway, Norte calmed Peto and let the vehicle slow.
"There was a guy. He kept asking questions."
"OK Peto. It's over now. Take a breath, tell me what happened."
"That thing. I think it was an ambulance." Peto explained everything as they drove sedately back to the ship.
"What the fuck was that?" Said Myles to Peto as he climbed in the lower hatch. Norte got between them.
"What are you talking about?" Norte tried to play down how badly the mission had gone.
"I saw it all from the pilothouse. The first thing you do when you meet an Earth-man is bash his skull in?"
"It wasn't the first thing!" Peto's eyes moistened, his face flushed.
Norte pushed Myles up the stairs to the living quarters and called to Peto over her shoulder. "Unload the car. Go. Now."
When they reached the main level Myles shook off Norte's grip and climbed back into the pilothouse.
"What are you doing?" She asked.
"My job!"
"For Ark's sake, I can't handle both of you going off the deep end!"
Myles stared at the blank walls of the pilothouse.
Why did you even wait for their return? You could be back on Legong by now.
"And leave that animal loose on Earth?" asked Pig.
"Now come out of there," Norte called. "let's talk this out." She stepped over to the kitchen, pulled Peto's pistol from her waistband and placed it on the table. Myles took a moment to calm himself then joined her.
"We should make contact," he searched her face for clues as to how she felt about Peto's actions. "Explain the situation. Maybe he's not dead."
"The museum said he was dead!" Peto stood at the top of the basement stairs. "I just wanted him to shut up, he wouldn't stop asking questions."
"Downstairs Peto." Norte said. Then, to Myles, "If he was asking questions he was either passing the info along, or planning on doing so later. He was a threat, it was unavoidable."
Myles stared directly at Peto, skulking across the room to lean against the wall beside them.
"Unavoidable? UNAVOIDABLE?" Myles seethed. "All he had to do was NOT smash the guy's head in. I manage to avoid smashing people's heads in every day. It's not that difficult"
Peto crossed the distance in one leap, reached across the table and dragged Myles from his seat. "He wouldn't leave me alone!"
"I'm the only one who can fly this!" Myles lay half on the table, half suspended by Peto's fists.
Norte made an implant-connection with Peto and he let go. Myles grabbed Peto's gun off the table and hurled it, missing Peto's head, smashing against the wall, pieces flying off at random.
"That was a gift!" Peto cried, then looked over in an appeal to Norte, who was eying Myles with surprise and suspicion.
"You're outa control." She said.
"I- fph! That bucket of hammers kills an innocent man and I'M out of control?"
"Calm down Myles." Norte said. "We have a mission to complete. We're here to gather navigation equipment."
"Oh, no you don't." Myles said. "We're making contact. We're gonna clear this up."
Norte made an implant link to Peto and the big man came back around the table, pinning Myles's arms behind his back.
"It's been almost two cycles since we took the car." She said. "They've done nothing. I'm willing to gamble that it will take them just as long to react to this."
"I didn't steal the car," Peto pleaded. "You stole the car."
"Yeah, well you killed an old man!" Norte countered.
Peto let go of Myles, tossed his head back and covered his eyes with his hands. "He wouldn't shut up!"
