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by Unknown

  One of the natives noticed his movements and got up from the group, moving toward Kenta and finally getting on his knees beside him. The man was wearing a sort of leather cloth and had a pouch around his neck. He wore a band around his head. There was something about the man that Kenta recognized, but he dismissed the thought, as he had no dealings with these people.

  The man was smiling at him. He moved in closer. Close enough for Kenta to smell the sweat of the day on him. The smile took a menacing tone.

  “You do not remember me do you?” Chief Mogar asked the Colonel.

  In a raspy, slurred speech, Kenta replied, “Why should I know you?”

  Mogar gave a sigh. “One should always remember the face of his enemies,” he said. “I remember yours from many years ago, when you killed so many of my people here on this very spot.”

  Now Kenta began to struggle more, but the bindings bit into his flesh and held firm. There was only one time he had killed men at this spot. It had been so long ago, just as they had built the base. He had been forced to make an example, to show them who was stronger. And it had worked for several years afterwards. But there had been no survivors – or were there? He watched as the Chief got up and gathered up what looked like a spare can of gasoline from one of the trucks. It looked heavy.

  “You and your men killed and maimed many of those men that day,” the Chief said almost finishing the Colonel’s thoughts. “You didn’t bother to help those injured or to respect those that had died. But as you were gathering your flaming liquid, I was able to crawl away from the pile of men, some of them still crying for help. I watched from these woods as you poured the liquid from a thing such as this over the men where they lay,” he said sadly. Mogar then twisted the top off the can and began pouring it all over and around Kenta.

  Kenta’s eyes opened wide at the realization of what was about to happen. “You cannot do this! I am a soldier! I was following the orders of my commander!” he screamed out. “Let me up from here!”

  The other men had gotten up by now and formed a circle around the sodden area around Kenta. Mogar opened one can, then another, pouring the vaporous liquid over Kenta’s bound form while the others reverently watched. As Kenta continued crying out for them to let him go, finally begging for mercy, Mogar finished with the last can and stood back.

  “For many years I have remembered the face of the man who took a burning stick and set fire to my people. They were strong, good men, and many good friends,” he said. “It was your face I remember from that day - your face that I burned into my mind. For all this time those men have waited for justice. They have waited patiently for me to give them peace,” he said quietly now. Then he walked to the fire and pulled out a flaming stick. He walked back to the sodden ground and urged his men back from it.

  Then Chief Mogar looked directly at Kenta. His eyes were sorrowful, yet determined. All he saw were the eyes of an animal – a wild beast that would devour everything in its path. Kenta’s eyes suddenly changed. They were filled with hate – a fury at being treated this way. He lashed out with all his strength, but the strong bindings held fast. He finally cursed Mogar and spit in his direction.

  Mogar felt no fulfillment in what he was about to do. Instead he felt sorrow for the animal bound before him. He shook his head at Kenta. Even he knew that a mad animal deserved to be put out of his misery. He gave a silent prayer to honor the men that had died so long ago, and dropped the flame onto the edge of the moist ground.

  The gasoline erupted in flame quickly devouring Kenta as he screamed in anger and pain. The screaming lasted only a few seconds when mercifully, Kenta forever lost consciousness. The men stood around the flames and watched in silence. After 30 minutes, the flames had died back to only about a quarter of what they had been. Then the men silently gathered their things and walked back into the woods that were their home.

  Aboard the Catalina, little Timothy was sitting in his father’s lap in the co-pilot’s seat. In the last of the day’s light, he marveled at all the switches, dials and gages. In particular, he wanted to grab the wheel and fly the plane like his uncle Panor was doing. For him, everything was right with the world. Like most little boys, the problems of the past were forgotten. He was playing with his daddy and that was all he needed.

  Hadaie came up to the cabin. “We should reach the base in seven hours and twelve minutes at this speed,” he shouted over the engines.

  Mike nodded and went back to playing with his son. Panor grinned. “He could care less my friend,” he shouted. Hadaie nodded in understanding. There was something very good about seeing Mike with his son. He was not sure what, but similar to when he first touched the hand of his still unborn son.

  Ramey then stuck his head into the cramped space. He gave Mike a stern look. “You seem to have forgotten something,” he said.

  Mike looked at him puzzled. “We’re on our way home without getting ourselves killed. What else should I have done?”

  Ramey gave him a scowl. “And your poor wife is only just now starting that big concert you had at one time promised to be at. I guess you forgot about that,” he said sternly.

  Mike threw up his hands. “Well, since we won’t get back for another day and a half, mind telling me what I can do about it?”

  Ramey reached over and grabbed the headphones and the mike for the radio. Then he pressed the switch on the wire lead. “Ramey to Lexington,” he called out.

  Chapter 17

  The Concert

  It was the largest crowd Jo had ever seen. The amphitheater had been built to hold up to 20,000 people, seated in a semicircle. She knew the people in the back could not really hear anything played much. It would be a jumble. But the sound engineers had embedded speakers into the entire complex, so that everyone heard the sounds equally, and in a realistic stereo. The first test, Mike’s jazz and rock concert, had been a booming success. Tonight’s would be a more delicate sound of both instrument and voice. If the system could handle this, it could handle anything.

  She looked through the side of the curtain at the people in the seats. Her face broke into a smile. This concert had been advertised as a family concert – one for children as much as their parents. Looking at the faces, she could see that nearly half of the seats were filled with children. She felt a tap on her shoulder, and turned to see King Raterc and President Rapheli standing there. Jo quickly turned and curtsied, even though both men waved her on.

  “You know better than that, my dear,” the President said warmly. “We just wanted to bid you our best tonight,” he said.

  “We both know the risk you are taking,” the King added. “Are you sure this is what you want to do?”

  Jo smiled at them. “That is very sweet of you both. You have no idea how much I appreciate your support – ever since we arrived here,” she said. “But you can never give in to people like Brana. When you do, you’ve already lost. And I don’t like to lose,” she said with a weak smile.

  “I know, but with your son at stake…” said the King.

  Jo took a deep breath, almost as if it hurt to breathe. “Yes, it makes it hard. But if this will keep some other mothers from losing their sons, then I will take that risk,” she said.

  The two men looked at her sharing the same thoughts. They could see the hurt and pain in her face, the longing to see both her son and her husband again. They could almost feel the anxiety she was feeling. But at the same time, they saw her brave determination and her devotion to the ideas they shared.

  The King stepped forward and kissed her forehead. “Then as I understand they say in your culture, ‘break a leg.’”

  The King stepped back and the President kissed her on the cheek. “My wife wouldn’t understand,” he joked. That brought a smile. He smiled back at her broadly. “We are your biggest cheering section,” he said. “Good luck.”

  “Thank you both,” she said as they bowed slightly and left to make their official entrance.

  Sharon Ramey watched from
a distance, and then came forward. “Loyal fans, huh?”

  “Any word?” Jo asked as she watched them leave.

  “None,” Sharon said. Then she pulled her daughter into an embrace. “Don’t worry Jo. They’ll be alright,” she said into her ear. “I’ll be right back here with my radio if anything happens. You’ll know as soon as I do.”

  Jo began to sob. “How am I going to get through this?” she asked through her tears.

  Sharon chuckled. “You remember when you thought you would never find the right places to put your fingers to make your violin sound right?” she asked with a smile. “I told you that if you wanted it bad enough, it would happen,” she said pulling Jo back to look her in the face. “So just ask yourself. How badly do you want this to happen?”

  Jo began to smile through her tears. “Oh well, I guess I want it pretty bad,” she said, wiping away her tears with a handkerchief. Then the trumpet blasts from the side of the theater announced the arrival of the King or Nacerium and President of Oreupe. They turned and listened as the crowd got to their feet in respect and the talking ceased. Then as the two men and their wives were seated, the crowd began talking again. Jo looked at her mother. “It’s time,” she said.

  “I’ll be right over here,” Sharon Ramey said, holding her daughter’s hands in her own. Jo walked over to the stage manager for the evening, Mr. Davidson, who had his headset on ready to begin the performance. “All set?” she asked.

  Davidson gave her a wink. “We’re all set here. Just remember your husband has set up a lot of things in this program to go along with your music, and some of my staff added a few more for the fun of it. So my advice is to enjoy the ride,” he said cheerfully. “Don’t worry. We’ll take care of everything,” he said touching her arm for reassurance.

  Jo returned his smile and then turned toward the stage. As she came to the edge, the curtains pulled back to reveal the orchestra and the shell, illuminated in blue and red lighting. Jo was wearing a light blue gown that let her arms remain free with white gloves (a Theran style) and her hair pulled up, almost in a bun. The audience erupted in applause as they saw her while she continued her way to the podium, then turned, smiled at them and bowed. Then she had the orchestra stand and bow.

  After a few moments, the crowd got quiet and Jo stepped before the microphone beside the podium.

  “Good evening everyone and thank you all for coming tonight. As you may know, this is the sixth anniversary of the arrival of my husband, Mike, and I, to your world.” She was interrupted by rousing applause with the entire audience standing and cheering for her. They all knew what was going on, and this was their moment of support, if nothing else. Once they were seated again, she continued.

  “Since that time, we have come to consider this world our home and we have tried to share a little of our former home with you,” she said. Again the audience applauded. “Tonight, you know, my family is separated, hopefully for only a short while. But for our anniversary here, Mike and I wanted to celebrate those things that we have shared as families. For five years, you have been able to watch television programs, hear and see things together as ours did. For the first half of this concert, we will be playing music from a type motion pictures and television programming that you have all come to enjoy as we have - in particular, the stories of the American West. So for now, sit back and remember those thrilling days of yesteryear,” she said with a smile.

  Then, as all other lights dimmed, she took to the podium and raised her baton. With the first few notes from a portion of Rossini’s William Tell, every child’s eyes went wide and smiles began to appear. Of course, they had no idea who William Tell was, but they definitely knew the theme for The Lone Ranger. The program was one of the first of the Earth programs to be broadcast on the local television stations. Like on Earth, the children were captivated. As Jo led the orchestra, it seemed they were playing extraordinarily crisp tonight. Then she heard a noise behind her as the children, and even the parents, began to cheer. There on stage came The Lone Ranger and his faithful companion Tonto, on horseback, waving to the audience. At one point, The Lone Ranger even reared Silver on his hind legs and took off his hat. The orchestra finished the piece to cheers as the Ranger and Tonto dismounted and walked to the microphone. Jo shook their hands and was surprised at how much the men looked like Clayton Moore and Jay Silverheels. Then the Ranger indicated for the audience to quiet, and he spoke.

  “Hello Rangers,” he said. He even sounded like Moore. The children cheered. “Tonto and I just wanted to drop by and say hello. I understand there are a lot of new Rangers around here, and we wanted to give you all a good welcome,” he said. Again the cheers and then Tonto came forward.

  “Kemosabe and I proud to know you good Rangers. Remember, always do what’s right for anyone,” he said.

  “That’s right my friend. Always do what’s right. It will make our world a much better place,” he said “Good night!” Then the two men waived at the audience who were out of their seats and applauding. Cheers could be heard throughout the audience as they remounted their horses. Again Silver was reared and they waved again, then turned their horses and trotted off the stage. Jo watched as the men stopped, waved again at her, then disappeared as the program for their portion ended.

  Next, the orchestra played the theme for the motion picture, The Magnificent Seven. The film had shown only the last year to sellout crowds. As they played, the simulator placed them in various scenes of the American West to match the mood of the phrases. Again, the audience cheered.

  The theme from Bonanza brought the house down. Families from all over Thera had taken one day a week to sit together and find out what else would happen to the Cartwrights. Then, as before, the men came riding out on stage. Ben, Hoss, Little Jo and their brother Adam, got off their horses and waved to the applause, but then they led their horses to one side and stood quietly. This was a medley of television western themes and the next was Rawhide. Rowdy Yates (a young Clint Eastwood), Cookie and the others came onstage waiving and joining the rest, followed by the men from Wagon Train, led by Ward Bond. Then Marshall Matt Dillon rode in with the first few strands of Gunsmoke. When he got down off his horse, he raised his hand to someone off stage and Miss Kitty joined him along with his deputies, Chester and Festus. Finally, in a pause in the music, Chuck Connors stepped from the right side of the stage, leveled his trusty rifle and let go with nine rounds in rapid succession, just like in the television show. The orchestra then played the theme from The Rifleman, and ended the medley. With the last notes, all the men stepped forward again and greeted Jo and the orchestra. It was Matt Dillon (James Arness) that stepped forward for the group.

  “Folks we wanted to say how much we appreciate you watching our shows.” He was interrupted with applause. “But we all want you to know we’re just regular people - people representing a rough and wild time in what was the Western part of the United States. Sure, there were some that weren’t very good people, but there were always others there to set things straight. In that way, we are just like you, working to do what’s best for others, even sometimes ahead of ourselves,” he said glancing at Jo. “We all thank you for watching and we hope to see you again real soon,” he said nodding to the audience.

  Jo watched the characters wave and then leave the stage. She marveled at the likenesses and silently felt the presence of Mike in what was happening. He always knew how to please an audience. The next piece of music was from The Big Country, followed by How the West Was Won. Again the simulator seemed to transport the orchestra and the audience into scenes of the old west. Next came the old songs of the west. From Streets of Laredo, to The Old Chisolm Trail, to Shenandoah and even Home on the Range. Many of the characters returned to the stage and sang to the audience with other cowboys. They sang in English, with the words on the giant screen just above them showing the words in Theran. Jo swore she could hear the Therans trying to sing along with them.

  Just before the last piece, Jo
stepped to the microphone again. “I hope you have enjoyed the first part of our program for tonight,” she said to applause. “This last piece is from a motion picture you haven’t seen, and in fact came out several years after the ones you have had in theaters. But it is one of the most stirring of all the Western film scores. I hope you like it,” she said. She raised her baton and the orchestra exploded with sound with the horns and trumpets announcing the theme for Silverado. It was a rousing conclusion to the first half of the program and the audience was on its feet shouting its approval. But that wasn’t all.

  From the sound system came the strumming of a guitar and a yodeling voice. As Jo looked around, from the wings walked a tall man in a blue shirt with fringe, matching pants and a white hat. He smiled at Jo and waved as the audience cheered him on. He held his hand up a moment and the crowd got quiet. “Folks, I’m told that it just wouldn’t be proper if we didn’t end this part of the program like I have always ended my shows and Dale and I wanted to come by and lead you ourselves. Come on out here Dale,” he said.

  Jo watched as Dale Evans joined her husband onstage and Roy Rogers began playing his familiar theme song. Jo was surprised as the entire audience began to sing along.

  Happy trails to you,

  Until we meet again.

  Happy trails to you,

  Keep smiling until then.

  Who cares about the clouds where we’re together,

  Just sing a song and bring on sunny weather.

  Happy trails to you,

  Till we meet again.

  Then the orchestra behind Jo began accompanying Roy led by the Concertmaster. Jo smiled as he winked at her and listened as Roy and Dale sang the chorus again, finishing the song. The cheers drown out the good byes of Roy and Dale, but they took the time to turn to Jo.