by D L Frizzell
“There’s a trick to this,” Redland said. He dug around in one of his pockets and produced a strand of green baubles connected with silvery threads.
“That’s the key?” Hathan-Fen asked.
“Yeah,” Redland said. “Hold still.” He placed the baubles around Hathan-Fen’s neck. When she pulled back, he smiled. “I ain’t proposin’ marriage if that’s what you’re afraid of, sweetheart,” he smirked. “It needs to go around somebody’s neck, and mine’s too big.” She scowled but pulled the collar of her winter coat back to give him access. “Stand still,” he said.
As soon as Redland joined the clasps together behind the major’s neck, I felt a tingle of static electricity run up and down my arms. More than that, I felt it in my brain. It wasn’t painful. I could better describe it as musical. It had a cadence where the notes went up and down gradually, like someone gently running their fingers along a piano keyboard. The upper and lower ends of the sequence grew closer together with each pass of the notes.
“My head hurts,” Hathan-Fen said. She reached for the strand, but Redland pulled her arms down and held them at her sides.
“These beads are the only way out,” Redland said. “Everybody, stay close unless you want to get stranded in this damn tunnel.”
“Let go of me,” Hathan-Fen insisted.
“In a minute,” Redland said.
“Do what Redland says,” I told the others.
Brady and Traore hesitated, seeing the major’s discomfort. “Is this dangerous?” Brady asked.
“No, but it’s not going to last much longer,” I told the sergeants.
“How do you know?” Traore asked.
“The music is a countdown,” I said. “It’s going to end in about fifteen seconds.” I stepped in behind Hathan-Fen where I could keep an eye on Redland. Snaps of static electricity formed in the air around the circle overhead. Below us, a blue glow mirrored the big circle overhead, growing brighter at the edges. “We’re going to lose anything that isn’t inside this circle,” I added.
“I don’t hear any music,” Hathan-Fen moaned, rubbing at her temples.
“Me neither,” Brady said. Traore nodded agreement.
“Don’t worry,” I told them. Redland kept Hathan-Fen’s arms down, and now stared at me over her head. He smiled viciously while she squirmed in his grasp. Brady and Traore moved in close and made sure their gear was within the circle. Ofsalle squeezed in also, squeezing his eyes shut as the fur on Redland’s hood tickled his face.
A cloud of blue energy coalesced around us, taking on a distinct cylindrical form. It flowed upward, the top edges swirling around like a tall glass being filled with water. In ten seconds, the energy reached the circle overhead and thrummed audibly. At least, it sounded like that to me. The others seemed unaware of the sound. I felt a static charge wash over my arms as the music came to an abrupt halt and the cylinder took on the appearance of blue glass. I pushed my finger against it. “It’s solid,” I said.
“I’m going to be sick,” Hathan-Fen said, her voice quivering.
“We can’t have that,” Redland said in a pseudo-sympathetic tone while doing exactly nothing to help.
The floor inside the blue cylinder began to move upward. Outside, the electric light from the station shined through the energy cylinder like a prism, diffracting cobalt blue waves onto our small group of travelers.
“What’s going on?” Brady asked.
“It’s an elevator,” Redland said, “and it’s takin’ us to the surface.”
I examined the cylinder as we ascended. There were no pulleys, motors, or any other mechanical contraptions that might explain how we were moving, but we were. We kept rising, passed through the tunnel ceiling which had somehow vanished, and continued upward for long seconds. Were it not for the blue glow of the cylinder around us, we’d have been in complete darkness. That wasn’t much comfort in the cramped space.
“Somebody needs a breath mint,” Brady frowned, looking at Redland.
Hathan-Fen retched. She managed to keep her stomach contents a secret, but her eyes did fill with tears. “Shut up, Sergeant,” she moaned.
Another blue glow appeared above us. If the blue cylinder was the wall, this was the ceiling. It shimmered brightly, intersecting the cylinder at a right angle. When it was just a meter above us, the elevator stopped rising. We stood there, shoulder to shoulder, with no way out.
“Now what?” Brady asked.
“We pretend we’re a can of pork and beans,” Traore said, putting up a near-convincing façade of calmness.
“It’s about to open,” Ofsalle said, turning so he could open his eyes and look up. “It’s rather fascinating to watch.”
Concentric ripples appeared in the circle of blue energy overhead, alternating inward and outward, picking up speed until we all heard the hum of electricity. Where the ripples met in the middle, a luminous dot appeared, growing brighter as the hum increased in volume. Where it had been dark before, a circle of light irised open to reveal dark, fuzzy outlines moving back and forth. Muffled thudding sounds echoed in the cramped space around us.
“Damn cows,” Redland grumbled. “They ain’t never gonna learn.”
“Learn what, exactly?” Brady asked. “And why are there cows up there?”
“Something attracts ‘em to the elevator,” Redland said. “I dunno. Just watch.”
The shadows startled as if jolted by electricity and clamored away, slipping and stumbling over surface created by the energy field. When they were gone, the dot at the center of the energy ceiling began moving upward. The flat ceiling became a cone, growing taller until a steadier light shined through the center. As the tip went higher, I recognized a dark blue sky with glowing orange clouds overhead. Ripples danced around the base of the lengthening cone.
“That’s water,” I said. “We’re under water.”
“I don’t buy into the notion that energy fields can hold up cows,” Traore said, “let alone water. What are we looking at exactly?”
“T’Neth engineering,” Norio said. “It seems they can use electro-magnetism to make solid matter out of thin air.”
“Somethin’ like that,” Redland said. “It ain’t done yet, folks. Keep watchin’.”
“We’re going to get wet, aren’t we?” Brady said.
“No,” Ofsalle said. “Probably not. Not yet, anyway.”
“It wouldn’t mind getting wet if this went faster,” Hathan-Fen complained, quivering under some invisible strain.
The tip of the cone became a hole. The hole widened, and the swampy smell of fish and cow dung wafted over us. The cone stopped growing just above the water line where it became a mere extension of the cylindrical energy field. The elevator resumed its upward motion and stopped at the top. The cows turned to look at us, and then sloshed away through the water as if our arrival was just a little too bothersome.
“At long last, the Dreman Shallows,” Ofsalle pronounced. “My friends, we are on the outskirts of the town called Sunlo.”
“Oh, crap,” I said, peering into the thick fog that surrounded us.
“What’s the matter?” Traore asked.
“Alex grew up here,” Norio said.
Redland’s surprise turned into a wicked grin. “Welcome home, kid.”
Chapter Eighteen
“We’d better get off the platform,” Ofsalle said. “It will lower soon.”
“Won’t we freeze in this water?” Brady asked.
“Nope,” Redland said. “An underground hot spring keeps it warm.” He took the necklace off Hathan-Fen and hopped into the water. “Hustle, people,” he said.
Hathan-Fen rubbed her temples, looking dazed. I pulled her into the water with me and steadied her in the underlying mud. Norio and the others joined us just as the platform started moving downward again.
The energy field folded in on itself, resuming its cone shape and shrinking into the mud. Moments later, we stood in murky water up to our knees, listening to cowb
ells clanking away from us in the fog.
“Let’s get moving,” Redland said.
“This way,” Ofsalle said as he sloshed toward a pole jutting up from the water. Brady and Traore held their gear above the water as they trudged along, with Redland following. Since Hathan-Fen had trouble walking, I stayed with her, supporting her with one arm so I could keep an eye on Redland.
“I’m fine,” Hathan-Fen said angrily, shrugging me off and stumbling in the water.
I didn’t argue. Instead, I let her get back up on her own, now wet up to her midsection. She defiantly wrapped her parka tightly around her body and sloshed away from me after the others, not realizing the wet material would chill her soon.
Redland waited for her to splash past him, and then waited for me to catch up.
“We need to talk,” Redland said.
“No,” I said, low enough so that the others couldn’t hear me.
“Okay, then,” he said. “You talk. You got me over a barrel by tellin’ everybody about meeting Xiv. Why don’t you tell me what it is you want?”
I stopped in stunned amazement. “Are you going to try make a deal with me so I don’t tell them you’re best pals with a murdering T’Neth?” I growled.
“No,” Redland said. “You don’t know as much as you think you do, kid. Fair warnin’, here - You’re only goin’ to embarrass yourself if you try ratting on me.”
“Let’s see how much I do know,” I replied hotly. “After we learned you sold us out to the Jovians at the Crumbles six years ago, it occurred to me that you came by that kind of betrayal a bit too easily. After I put you in Ovalsheer Prison, I used my spare time to visit all the settlements where you conducted your investigations over the last twenty years.” I waited for a reaction from Redland but got none. “You are disgustingly repetitive, marshal. Almost everybody I met had a story about mysterious deaths, unexplained fires, and all kinds of vandalism. Only those crimes happened right before you showed up, and only stopped when you left. What’s really pathetic is that you convinced those poor suckers you actually solved those cases when you were the culprit.”
Redland adjusted the leather thong that held the wooden thumb on his left glove, stone silent.
“You have no response?” I hissed. I motioned to the titanium shackle encasing his right forearm. “You going to convince me you don’t deserve to wear that?”
“Oh, now I can talk?” he sneered. “You think I’m gonna plead my case so you’ll understand what a tender and compassionate guy I really am? Don’t hold your breath. I’m goin’ to ask you a question instead, Alex. How big is your jurisdiction? I don’t care if you count Celestial City or not, because you’ve been avoidin’ that town like a little sissy since the girl dumped your ass. What I want to know is: where do you draw the line between those who matter and those who don’t?”
It was my turn to be quiet. Let him bluster, I thought. It will fall on deaf ears. His manipulations worked on the naïve college kid I used to be, but they won’t work on someone who’s been there, someone who’s seen the world for what it is.
“You work for the Alliance Council,” he said. “That ain’t an accusation, but a statement of fact. You’ve worked for them since the minute I took you on as my deputy. Even now, they hold your leash.”
I held my tongue. The council was corrupt, and everybody knew it. I wasn’t guilty by association, regardless if he was insinuating exactly that.
“So, what is your jurisdiction?” He asked again.
It had to be a loaded question. The answer was simple, but acknowledging it would only play into whatever his mind-game was.
“Maybe you think it’s the entire Territorial Alliance,” he continued, “or maybe you think it’s just the Plainsman Territory. That’s how Colonel Seneca thinks, and his opinion still matters to you, doesn’t it? You work within the borders he defines and consider everybody outside those borders your enemy.”
“You’re living proof that those borders need defending,” I seethed, no longer able to hold my tongue.
“That’s the difference between you and me,” he said. “I don’t believe in borders.” With that, he turned and followed the others.
I could have shot him just then. He was splashing loud enough that he couldn’t have heard me pull my pistol from its holster. As I stood there aiming at his back, it would have been an easy thing to do. Hell, even the sound wouldn’t make it beyond the fog. Justice would be served. Except for the others in our group, none of whom would blame me, Redland could disappear in the Dreman Shallows without a trace.
Redland heard me, or rather he noticed that I wasn’t falling in step behind him. He turned around and looked down the barrel of my pistol. “You’re gonna miss out on a lot of answers if you pull that trigger,” he said, keeping his voice low so the rest of our party couldn’t hear.
“Maybe I don’t want answers,” I said.
“Most people don’t,” he replied matter-of-factly. He turned his back and walked after the others.
Dammit. I holstered my pistol and followed him.
Sloshing through the water toward Sunlo, the dread in my chest grew with each step in the dark mud. There were only a few places in the world I never wanted to visit again. This was one of them. Underground volcanic activity kept the ground plowable and the water warm, but any settlement sitting at the boundary of the Colderlands needed more of a reason to exist than a barely-tolerable climate. It turns out that the frigid temperatures provided a benefit that couldn’t be found anywhere else in the settled world. The hundred-meter high sandstone cliffs, which were named the Upright Meadowlands, receive direct sunlight around the clock. It’s a cold light, too cold for insects, but warm enough for certain plants to grow. Those two considerations made the region a veritable gold mine for agriculture. Sunlo farmers adapted to the permanently cold climate, while not having to worry about the pests that warmer climates have to endure. Consequently, Sunlo’s crops are among the most reliable, and expensive, delicacies on the planet.
The shallows finally fell behind us, followed by the mud, and finally the fog. I caught my first glimpse of the Sunlo Canopy. A kilometer-wide construct of aluminum girders, high-tension cables, and polished stainless-steel mirrors, it was the Founders’ last project in the area before their technology died completely. Mounted against a granite escarpment between the crop faces, the mirrors angled over the town at forty-five degrees, reflecting the horizontal sunlight downward to approximate overhead daylight for the citizens. It was a sound design, but after five hundred years it was getting creaky. A full third of the town’s population had no other duties than to prevent the canopy from flattening Sunlo like a giant flyswatter. My foster father, Donald Biedrik, was a supervisor on one of the crews.
I looked across the breadth of the Upright Meadowlands. The cliffs were covered with green vegetation, cobblegrape vines for the most part, that dangled from half a dozen tiers that had been carved into the stone. Ladders were attached at opposing ends of each crop face, with walkways built into the rock to accommodate foot traffic. I could see the giant purple grapes resting in their nests, even from this distance, and knew there would be harvesters going up there to collect them soon.
The bitter cold near the equator never bothered me, but just then I acted like it did. I adjusted my hat to cover my eyes and flipped up my jacket’s collar. The others were doing the same, so the maneuver went unnoticed and I thought I could get into town without being recognized. It was a hope quickly dashed as we entered town.
“Alex Vonn!” A voice called from a nearby storefront.
So much for getting through town without being noticed, I thought. I looked toward the store and saw a man in his mid-thirties running toward us.
The man stopped and shook my hand. “You’ve got a posse now?” he joked. “Your folks always said you’d be famous!”
“I’m with them,” I said, gesturing to the rest of the team, “not the other way around.”
“Either wa
y, you’ve got quite a reputation,” he smiled. “Your folks are very proud.”
I cringed inwardly but shook his hand and smiled. I certainly didn’t want to explain why I and six others were traipsing out of a muddy wetland, thousands of kilometers from our home territory. Yet, I didn’t want to be completely dismissive and trigger wild speculation about our presence. Better to be vague, but still sound official. “We’re looking for someone,” I said. “It’s a sensitive matter, so we’d appreciate it if you’d keep our presence to yourself.”
“Of course,” the man said. “The constable should be in his office if you need to see him.”
“We will,” I said. “Thank you.”
The man went back to his duties.
“You know him?” Hathan-Fen asked.
“I don’t,” I said. “Apparently, he knows me.”
“Local boy makes good,” Brady quipped. “I’d guess you don’t visit much these days.”
“Not for about ten years,” I said.
“Maybe now’s a little late to say it,” Hathan-Fen said, “but let’s try to keep a low profile.”
“The peach trees should provide sufficient cover for us,” Norio suggested, pointing to the frost-covered grove nearby. “I do not see any workers.”
“Good idea,” I said. “The constable’s station isn’t too far beyond.” I took the lead and steered our group into the trees nestled along the cliff faces. No one asked me about my adopted hometown, though I suspected they were wondering. They all knew I was an orphan. It was no secret that my mother abandoned me. My father, governor of the Plainsman Territory, died a few weeks after she left - also not a big secret. I was labeled a troubled youth after that, but in truth I had always been one. I spent six years in Sunlo, my anti-social ways only kept somewhat in check by the Biedriks.
