Traveler_Losing Legong

by Tim Dennis

  "We received an Encrypted Imperative, just said to meet you here." A dozen rough-looking S.I. troops lazed about in Cabs and on the picnic tables pushed up against the cow barn.

  "So did I." She said.

  Dr. Greenbro broke in. "Is there somewhere Myles could lie down for a while?"

  The attention in the room briefly returned to Myles, fatigue replaced by a drug-induced dissociative state.

  "His room is upstairs." Mother said.

  Myles felt it very important that he take his new guitar with him, so Bento passed it to him, then Traveler and Dr. Greenbro guided the wobbly Myles up the stairs. He didn't feel unwell, nor did he want to sleep, but he did feel physically exhausted and mentally numb. Letting them tuck him into bed, he tried, and failed, to speak. He could see the doctor dipping in and out of his implant, his eyelids fluttered and pupils dilated and narrowed. It was an advanced technique, and seeing it practiced so easily induced mild shame in Myles.

  "It's gone now. Won't have to fuss with it anymore." Pig spoke with uncharacteristic kindness.

  From Traveler Myles received an intense stare, making him slightly uncomfortable. Although he remained conscious, he couldn't stop his eyes from closing. His hearing became muffled and the dull thudding of his heart washed out the chatter coming up from the bottom of the stairs.

  That's not your heartbeat.

  The thudding increased and was joined by puffing and hissing. There followed a rattling of doors and windows and a pressure on his chest. This continued for a few seconds then fell to complete silence.

  Was that a knock on the door?

  Neither eyes nor ears cooperated. There were footsteps on the stairs, voices in the hall.

  That's my daddy. He loves me. So does my mommy.

  Bento loves you too.

  Bento loves Harry, but she likes me as a friend.

  That's nice.

  No, that's sad.

  Myles couldn't make out the words, or open his eyes, but he knew that Nod and three Shield Guards were in the hall with Dr. Greenbro and his father. He also knew what they were saying, but not the words, just the ideas.

  'my patient. me in power here, not you.'

  'demands from leadership. must comply.'

  'willing, agreement, but not medically possible.'

  'cannot make decision. must consult.'

  'fear. resentment.'

  'confusion. reluctance.'

  Myles could also feel a growing confidence, not within himself, but coming from the barnyard and oozing into the kitchen below. The feelings were matched by growing fear and uncertainty in the hallway outside his room. He experienced the sudden knowledge that Surface Infrastructure, S.I., had broad authority on the surface and that the troops in the hall were Council Guard.

  Too many rapidly changing emotions and too many conflicting concepts. It became too much. After a short time the muffled noises grew distant and the thrumming starting again. Myles felt a tingle in his nostrils.

  Sounds in the room resolved themselves into recognizable voices and Myles's eyes opened, Dr. Greenbro's face materializing from shadows. The Dr. reached down, Myles felt something being peeled from his face.

  Dr. Greenbro issued a command. "Speak."

  "At?" Myles answered.

  "Again." The Doctor's order was as firm as Krykowfert himself.

  The words came to Myles with difficulty. "What do you want me to say?"

  "You're fine."

  Myles was confused, and it showed. He knew what Greenbro was about to say an instant before he heard the words. Dr. Greenbro snapped his fingers in Myles's face, Myles slapped his hand away.

  "I said you've got to find yourself another doctor-"

  "I haven't seen you in fifteen years." Said Myles. "You're a pediatrician."

  Why is he so agitated?

  "Good. Let's make it thirty this time!" Without waiting for a response Greenbro hurried himself down the stairs, exiting the kitchen without speaking to Myles's parents. Myles sat up and turned to Traveler.

  You feel happy. Why did you feel angry before? I don't know

  "That was weird." Myles said aloud.

  Traveler smiled gently.

  Myles felt no fatigue, no soreness, no mental fuzziness, yet he couldn't explain to himself how Traveler could beam with such a kind smile without a muscle on his face moving. Bento poked her head around the opened door.

  "Are you OK?" she asked.

  "I think so." Myles answered.

  The three went back down to the kitchen where Bento's old S.I. crew was being fed experimental dishes by Harry. Both Bento and Clark figured out they'd been brought there by Krykowfert as a blind show of force to unnerve the Council Guards, just in case Dr. Greenbro's ruse wasn't effective. Clark was quite angry about this and wanted to protest, make sure the Council new he'd been used. Bento convinced him the Council was smart enough to figure that out on their own, and managed to dissuade him from rocking the boat. As the kitchen cleared and the S.I. crew headed back to the beach, Myles's parents filled him in on the mass destruction of Shuttle Stations.

  "They think Mallick is behind all this?" Myles asked.

  "Not by himself," Bento said. "The discontent has been there all along. The Council are blaming Traveler, er, Traveler's presence, for bringing it to a head. Krykowfert thinks the opposite, that by getting more exposure to Traveler people will calm down and Mallick's support will fade."

  Traveler had the unique ability to remain in a room without making his presence felt. "Do you believe the Council is right?" Traveler asked, "That my mere presence has disrupted the cohesion of your society?"

  Most of those present shrugged or tilted their heads indecisively. Harry spoke. "Well, it would be dishonest to say you've had a positive influence."

  Myles brought up the opening of a Rip to Eden, which shifted the conversation again. News of Eden had spread, and his trips to Earth were being rumored, so he decided to begin at the beginning, telling of his first trip to Eden and the second trip, which was meant for Eden, but for some reason he still didn't understand, went to Earth. He focused on the less agreeable activities of Norte and Peto, giving special attention to Peto's needlessly violent collecting of Eden species. He passed more lightly over his own actions, and entirely skipped the odd moment when the ship followed him away from the landing site.

  "Why skip that?" asked Pig. "It's a very interesting part of the story.

  They wouldn't understand.

  "Do you?"

  Regarding the third trip, Myles described in great detail Peto and Norte's theft of the ground vehicle. Without straying from the facts, he dramatized the event, feeling his audience's emotions shift and dart like a school of fish. He found himself wishing he was one of his listeners, sharing the emotional roller coaster instead of leading it. As he described Peto's murder of the man in the museum he felt a wave of shock and horror cross the room. He hurried the story along to the lonely stretch of road, Norte's car, and the moment of impact; adding that he'd seen it all from the ship's pilothouse.

  "Traveler knows that's bullshit," said Pig.

  Why do you think that?

  Myles looked cautiously at his family and friends. There was no indication that they doubted a moment of his story. He avoided looking directly at Traveler.

  During the story the sky dimmed and Harry served supper Myles faded into the background as the diners excitedly discussed the details of events amongst themselves. Night fell, Myles excused himself from the table to, as he claimed, "...feel the righteous dirt of Legong beneath my feet."

  Bento followed him out. Caldera's City Center lights reflected in the sky beyond the oaks, punctuated by the flashes of Bento's new Gun, frantically annihilating the increasing number of meteors making it in past the Council-depleted orbital defense crews.

  A light chill blew through the barnyard. Bento closed her jacket. "The Council has offered Traveler his ship back, I'm taking him up tonight to get it."

  Myles felt a pan
g of jealousy. "About time!"

  A large crack sounded high in the sky as one streak of light split into a hundred little fading streaks.

  "I was supposed to be installing those things." Bento nodded, indicating the gun on the main island. "Krykowfert passed my command down to Clark and made me Traveler's babysitter. We were in Broad Plain today."

  Myles felt another wave of jealousy, this time unable to cover it with words. After a moment he spoke. "It seems Eden and Earth aren't the only places that have been busy since I left."

  "Your brother is being assigned to Eden, Krykowfert is shifting farming resources in preparation for settlement."

  "But the Council hasn't made any decisions yet-"

  "It's going to be a penal colony."

  Bento gave Myles a moment to absorb the news. He looked confused. In reality, he was just coming to his senses. Up to know he'd been only reciting incidents and lies, providing data. Now he had to assimilate some for himself, and that required focus and attention.

  "He's making a list," bento continued. "Instead of incarceration on Legong he's going to round up Mallick and those like him and transport them to Eden."

  Myles didn't know what to say. None if it made sense.

  "I have to go." Bento huffed and turned her back. Myles grabbed her arm and pulled her back to face him.

  "I've been to Earth, Bento. Earth! I'm the first Legong to get out of the damn system and in the space of a week I've been to a mythical planet and the land of our ancestors. I've seen things, met people. There are worlds out there, places nothing like this."

  Bento didn't pull away. "I'm trying to tell you Myles, there's something going on here, something I can't access. While you were gone Krykowfert announced the Eden Rip, in the hours since you returned Council policy on the Earth man has officially shifted three times, and this transportation list, the names on it, it doesn't make any sense. Damn it Myles, why do I need to explain this to you?"

  "What? Politics are screwed up, Krykowfert's marching forward. What needs explaining?"

  Bento pulled away. "You're not an idiot Myles. If you could use a damn implant you'd know what was going on, it wouldn't be so easy for you to go off into your dream world-"

  Myles grabbed Bento and pulled her back to him. "It's not a dream world!" Myles took a deep breath and started over. "OK, it's a dream world. My dream world. A place I've wished for, a place where I belong. But it's not fantasy, it's real."

  Bento listened compassionately. "I've never heard you talk like this. I mean, you've never been religious before."

  "What are you talking about?" Myles expressed confusion.

  "Eden."

  "Eden? I'm talking about Earth! Earth, Bento. Forget Eden. In a few years it will be filled with Legongs. Oh sure, greener, safer, nicer place, but the same people. Come with me, come back to Earth."

  Bento didn't pull back. "Ten years, Myles. Ten years you just putter around, thinking your thoughts, dreaming your dreams, but never applying yourself, never working at anything."

  "That's nonsense."

  "No, I know, that's not what I mean. You could have done anything, been anything Myles. I couldn't wait forever."

  She stopped and looked at him, tears welling up.

  I've never seen her cry.

  "I can't just walk away." She said.

  "It'll be hard on him at first, like it was hard on me, but Harry will be OK." Myles said.

  "No. You don't understand. I'm pregnant."

  32

  Mallick rubbed his chin and listened, watching the images play across a stage that only two days before had been a home to amateur theatrics and children's dance recitals.

  "Situation is similar in most of the larger settlements we hit," said Cokely, "but the Council's resources are stretched, they've ignored the smaller settlements, they've not even done a flyby of Plateau."

  Images of shoppers and uniformed Council Guards alternated with still pictures of Broad-Plain's Launch Rail's empty cavern. The entire structure's mass had been turned into a fine silicone dust, carried onto the surrounding flat-lands as the steady winds that defined the region poured into the missing Shuttle Station and out through the skyward-pointing bell-mouth of the launch rail. The images dissolved, leaving Mallick, Cokely and a half dozen unfamiliar faces lined up behind the table at the side of the stage. Fernstrom climbed up and looked from Mallick to Cokely, not certain who to address.

  "We've disabled ten more rails, but with less targets it's getting easier for the Council to defend them."

  "Send in Cabs." Said Cokely, "We've got plenty of Makers, just set them on timers-"

  "No." Mallick interrupted. "Too dangerous. We've been lucky so far, no one's been injured."

  "What do you suggest? We stop?" Cokely asked.

  Mallick sighed and took a moment to think. The core group of patriots, the men and women Mallick knew and trusted, were mostly of his generation. The schedule of sabotage had been a little too ambitious so Cokely had taken over with a younger crew. In the days since, their numbers had grown tenfold, but without vetting. He looked around the full theater wondering which were Council spies and which were enthusiastic hangers-on. "We keep at it." Said Mallick. "Slowly. But only when we can do so without risking the lives of bystanders, and only when we can be assured of our own safe escape." Cokely agreed and Fernstrom left with Midgfet to continue working on the details. With those two gone Mallick was able to pick out five or six friends from a room of almost a hundred. These few he'd known for decades, mostly from the Polar Settlements. The rest of them were strangers. He shrugged. "Thank you Agent Cokely." He said. "Shall we move on the election of Council- er, Officers?"

  A lively discourse developed during which several persons were put forward, each making a point of expressing how they had individually stepped up to perform heroic acts, while of course working under the umbrella of Mallick's inspired and benevolent leadership. Mallick agreed with everything they said and supported each and every one of them. He'd wanted to make a point and he'd made it. He had no desire to engage in the struggle for control. Before the voting was complete he excused himself from the dais and made a move on the exit door.

  "Sir! The planning meeting is in the green room."

  A middle-aged fellow Mallick had never seen before wished desperately to be the one to accompany him to the planning meeting in the basement. Mallick sighed. He felt he'd done his part and would have preferred to head into town for a drink, but he was a public figure now and although he eschewed the mantle of leadership, felt he should at least feign commitment to the cause. So he dutifully followed the Fellow Patriot to the newly christened Board Room in the theater basement.

  Fernstrom and Midgfet felt similarly ambivalent, and once the Fellow Patriot had departed the three elder statesmen wandered off in pursuit of breakfast. They found an open restaurant on the outskirts of Plateau, took a booth in the corner and let the weight of what they'd done drift away into cups of spiked coffee.

  "Why haven't the Council come after us here, in Plateau." Mallick asked.

  This was a vexing one. Fernstrom knitted his brow and thought deeply. Mallick answered himself.

  "They think we're loyal here. Plateau is over 90% polar refugees. Krykowfert would have dispersed us all over the planet, but the Council insisted we have our own place in the sun."

  Fernstrom and Midgfet grunted agreement and stayed focused on their meals. It seemed no one wanted to continue on the subject so Mallick let it go and let everyone eat in silence. Fernstrom got up and headed to the counter to make payment by manual-link. As Midgfet rose to follow, a Shield Guard Troop entered. Mallick grabbed Midgfet by the wrist.

  "Cokely said there had been no drops in Plateau." She said.

  "Casual dress." Offered Mallick. "Might be off duty."

  Three more troops joined the first. Fernstrom stayed focused on completing payment as the Guards sat at the counter between him and the door. As Mallick and Midgfet walked slowly towards them,
Midgfet noticed the Troop's insignia.

  "Krykowfert's Shield Guard, veterans." She said it quietly, but one of the guards looked up, directly at Fernstrom. He froze. Midgfet pushed passed and slipped out the exit, Mallick turned and examined the display case full of pies.

  "Veterans," Fernstrom said. "Yes, yes. We thank you for your service! Mabel! Breakfast is on me, anything they like. Just, just charge it to my implant."

  Her name wasn't Mabel and she'd never seen Fernstrom before that morning. But her confused pause gave Fernstrom the seconds he needed to slip out of the restaurant. Two of the Guards fell into deep implant connections, the other two turned, waiting for a response. Mallick sat down at the counter, keeping the pie case between himself and the Guards. With his head tilted just so, the glass of the case reflected the view out the window behind him. All four guards stood and exited the restaurant. Not-Mabel addressed Mallick.

  "What was all that about?"

  "I don't know. Kinda odd tho, eh?"

  Not-Mable looked hard at Mallick. "Don't I know you?"

  "Maybe, I've been in here before, just followed these Guards in for a piece of pie." She handed Mallick a menu and left to check on another customer. Mallick went back to his reflections. All four Guards walked away in the same direction. Mallick exited and headed the opposite way.

  Krykowfert stood looking down at the refreshment cart in his outer office. "Have we any bergamot left?" He asked.

  Feric came over and took a small vial from the top drawer. As she turned back to her desk, Bento entered.

  "Ah! Welcome Lieutenant Urbo." Krykowfert said. "Please, come in." Krykowfert held open the door to his little office. Bento walked in and stood uncomfortably in the small room.

  "Would you like a tea?" He asked.

  Bento remained silent, staring out Krykowfert's window at the inactive nexus of Launch Rails high above.

  "Bento? Tea?"

  "Yes, sir," was Bento's automatic response to any question Krykowfert would have asked at that moment.

  "Good, good." Krykowfert poured two cups from a ready pot. "Milk? Sugar?"