Keene raised his eyebrows. “They seem to cooperate rather than fight. However–”
Rhona interrupted, “I know, I know. We have common ancestors.”
“My thought as well. If so, then who imposed the confusion on us, but not on them?”
“The Bible says it was God,” Rhona said.
“Hmm. I’m not exactly sure what you mean when you say God did it.” Keene absentmindedly scratched one of his sideburns.
The memory of previous discussions prompted Rhona’s next question. “Did Nanda’s first visit here come before the Tower of Babel incident?”
“Yes, several hundred years earlier.”
“Was there only one language then?”
“I don’t know,” Keene said. “But we can ask her.”
“Later.” Rhona turned away and then spoke over her shoulder. “I’ll bring you a dirt bomb.”
* * *
Rhona pulled her coat tight against the brisk January wind as she walked alongside Ralph’s motorized wheelchair across the parking lot of Jetmore Food Center. He repositioned his stocking cap and gestured at the handicap access door. “I barely remember what it was like to walk. The last time, other than the sessions with the walker yesterday and this morning, was almost 40 years ago.”
Rhona smiled while she punched the button to open the door. The feeling of pleasure from helping Ralph and Beverly regain their health was much more intense than she had expected. She wasn’t sure she could talk without crying.
“Hi, Ralph,” Beverly called out when they approached her station at the deli counter.
Another woman approached the counter pushing a half-full grocery cart. She nodded to Ralph in greeting and then stared at Rhona with one eyebrow raised. Rhona’s sense of pleasure faded into the background when she recognized the challenging scrutiny.
“Rhona, have you met Viola Koerner?” Beverly asked.
“No,” Rhona replied. “Pleased to meet you, Viola.”
Beverly continued, “Viola lives near the intersection of E 10 Road and T Road just north of the county line. She often shops here instead of up in Ness City.”
“I haven’t been here long,” Rhona said.
Viola flipped back her long brown hair. “I’ve seen you on TV, though. They keep showing your picture when they talk about this new embassy thing.”
“Hmm,” Rhona responded.
“I saw an embassy sign beside the road when I crossed the county line.” Viola waved her hand to indicate the store. “It still looks the same as always.”
Rhona nodded. “Except the signs we installed a few days ago.” She knew Sam and Trixie were currently out on dirt bikes, wearing protective suits to turn aside the cold wind, installing sensors along the county line.
Viola cocked her head to one side. “Senator Harper says the embassy declaration is illegal.”
“He’s not the only one,” Rhona acknowledged. “However, we are operating under the premise the president had authority to make the declaration.”
“I know,” Viola said. “My brother, Darrell Davis, works at TV station KSNC over in Great Bend. He says the Abantu won’t talk to anyone in the media. I personally met Laura Kesterson a number of times here in this store. I had no idea…”
“None of us did,” Ralph commented.
Rhona saw a crease line form between Viola’s eyebrows as she looked at Ralph. Viola looked at Beverly and the line deepened when she asked, “Did you dye your hair?”
“No.” Beverly shook her head without smiling. “I just finished treatments for kidney cancer.”
Viola tapped her fingertip on her lips as she studied Beverly. “People lose their hair or it turns white when they take cancer treatments. You look younger. Why?”
Beverly held up both hands. “I took a new treatment developed by the Abantu. It only took about a week.”
Viola immediately swung around and stared at Rhona. “Can I tell my brother?”
“Sure,” Rhona replied. “People can say what they want.”
“But he works for a TV station.”
“You’re talking to him, not me.”
“You really mean it when you say the Abantu don’t talk to the media, don’t you?”
“That’s right.”
“Can my brother visit here?”
Rhona nodded. “As a person, yes, he can visit. But not as a media representative.”
“How can you tell the difference?”
“Shoving a microphone in my face or carrying a big video camera is a dead giveaway,” Rhona replied. “Some of the alternative media people have already visited without acting like kindergarten children.”
Viola raised one hand in farewell and then pushed on her shopping cart. “Nice meeting you – you’re nicer than I expected.”
Beverly watched Viola head towards the checkout stand. She didn’t glance at Rhona as she spoke softly. “What happens if the media try to swarm the place?”
“We won’t let them in,” Rhona replied. “I found out Laura developed a defense plan just after World War II.”
“Why then?” Ralph asked.
Rhona grinned. “We can stop them all at the county line.”
Ralph guffawed and gestured at his feet. “They’d have to walk if they want to visit.”
“That’s right–” Rhona cut off the explanation when her earpiece signaled an incoming call from Keene. “Yes, Keene?” she said.
“There are a number of TV vans heading our way. Dulcis has counted about 50 on 283 or 156 Road, but more are coming on smaller roads. They’re coordinating the arrival time.”
“What are they trying to prove?”
Keene sounded cynical. “That they can improve their ratings. You were right about a ringleader.”
“Who is it?”
“We don’t know, yet. Do you want to go watch the antics at the county line when their vehicles shut down?”
“No.” Rhona paused after the single word slipped from between her lips. She actually understood very little about what motivated a member of the main-stream media. This could be a learning experience. “Wait, I’ve changed my mind and I’d like to go, but I don’t have my protective suit.”
“I’ll be there in ten minutes. I’ll bring your suit and one of the pilentum.”
Ralph looked up when Rhona finished the call. His face was pale. He said, “I saw enough crazy people in Iraq to last a lifetime. I’ll stay here.”
Rhona placed her hands on Beverly’s counter. “Can I have a couple of dirt bombs and four donuts to go?”
“Sure.” Beverly moved with practiced motions and laid the succulent pastries on a paper plate by the time Rhona could pull money from her pocket.
Beverly reached for the money. “Do you want something to drink?”
“Coffee,” Rhona said in a muffled voice around her first bite. “To go.”
“Coming right up.”
Rhona was standing outside the door sipping her coffee and holding a bag of donuts for Keene when the pilentum pulled into the parking lot. Another vehicle driven by Olga Booker pulled in at the same time. Keene got out, holding two small bags. He gestured at Olga’s car. “She’s coming with us.”
“Expecting trouble?” Rhona asked while she took one bag from Keene and handed over the donuts.
“Who knows?” he said with a shrug. He then turned to Olga and held out the other bag. “I suggest you wear this.”
Olga shook her head as she reached for the bag. She took it and then thumped her knuckle on her chest. “I’m already wearing a bulletproof vest.”
“This is better,” Rhona said. “It looks like clothes, but it protects against heat, cold, chemical and viral attacks, and any man-portable weapon. It even has an invisibility cloak.”
Olga raised the bag up and down a few times as if weighing
it. “All that in this little bag?”
“Yep.” Rhona jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “I’m going to put mine on in the employee break room. Are you coming?”
Her blue eyes were wide when Olga nodded. “Sure. I’ve heard rumors about these things.”
Rhona gave Olga a few pointers on the suit onboard systems as they were changing. They spent ten minutes inside and then headed back out to where Keene was waiting.
He gestured at the sky. “I didn’t read the weather forecast today.” The clouds had thickened over the last hour and a few small flakes of snow were drifting lazily down.
“Where are we going?” Rhona asked.
Keene opened the doors and slid into the pilentum. “Let’s go north on 283. Dulcis says there are six media vehicles at the county line.”
Olga took a seat in the back while Rhona got in the front. Olga looked back and forth between Keene and Rhona. “What’s going on? From what Keene said earlier, the media should already be here.”
Rhona looked over the seat at Olga as Keene pulled onto the road. “Their engines died.”
“All of them?” Olga’s eyebrows almost touched her hairline when she asked the question.
“All of them,” Rhona said. “All around the county border.”
“Did you…” Olga shook her head and jerked her thumb in the direction of the Abantu facilities. “Did they do that?”
“That’s right,” Keene responded with a grin. “Main-stream media are not welcome inside the Abantu Embassy. They’ll eventually learn.”
Olga shook her head. “There are going to be several really pissed off people. I can see why you wanted the suits.”
Chapter 20 – Media Swarm
The snow was coming down heavier when they approached the county line. Rhona studied the sensors and then glanced at Keene. “There are five vehicles on the shoulder just this side of the new embassy sign.”
“I see them,” he said as he slowed.
“Wait a minute,” Olga said from the back seat when a vehicle passed them going the other direction. “I thought you said the engines died.”
“Only on media vehicles. We’re not interfering with people who live here or have a reason to visit.”
“What about tourists?” Olga asked.
“Not a problem,” Rhona said. She then glanced at Keene. “Do you want me to do the talking?”
“Yes,” he said with a chuckle.
A variety of conversational paths passed through Rhona’s mind as she exited the pilentum. Olga got out and stepped up beside her. They could see faces in the windows of the dark vehicles, but no one was standing out in the snow.
Rhona approached the lead vehicle, a van with a KSNC logo painted on it. She smiled, remembering the conversation with Viola.
The van door opened and a man with an angry look on his face emerged. He took a couple of steps in Rhona’s direction.
“What seems to be the problem?” Rhona asked before the man spoke.
“The engines died and everything shut down,” the man barked. He looked closer at Rhona and his right index finger shot out in her direction. “You! You’re Rhona Lantier!”
“Correct,” Rhona replied in a cold tone. “Please turn your van around and leave the embassy grounds.”
“You didn’t listen,” the man shouted. “Nothing is working on any of our vehicles. Other people drove by without stopping.”
“Good approach,” Keene whispered in Rhona’s earpiece. “Dulcis will activate the vehicle engine for him.”
Rhona pointed north along the road. “You ought to try it again. It should work, provided you are leaving.”
An ugly look came over the man’s face. “We don’t have to leave. We have a right to be here.”
Olga stepped up beside Rhona. “You’re wrong. Technically speaking, embassy grounds are not part of the United States. They belong to the Abantu.”
“Who are you?” The man spoke so forcibly that spittle flew from his mouth.
Olga tapped her holstered gun with one finger. She hadn’t found any way to pin her badge on the protective suit. “I’m the county sheriff.”
“I don’t have to listen to you.”
Rhona sensed Olga starting to bristle and stepped in front of the officer. She waved her hands at the snow falling around them. Enough had fallen to cover the pavement. “It’s going to snow for a while. The walk back to Ness City could take you most of the night. Why don’t you try your vehicle again?”
The man paused momentarily and then spoke harshly. “Did you make our vehicles quit?”
Answering the question either way wouldn’t help the situation. Rhona gestured at the van. “I suggest you try your engine again and then head north.”
The man shook his head, put his clenched fists on his hips, and stood firm. The little tableau held for about twenty seconds and then Rhona looked at Olga. “We don’t have to wait for this buffoon to make up his mind.”
They had just turned to walk back to the pilentum when a car approached from the south. Rhona stepped to the side of the road when the car slowed and maneuvered around the stopped vehicles. She caught sight of a familiar face when the car stopped.
Viola Koerner, who had finished shopping at the store, stepped from her car, leaving the driver’s door open, and looked at the man. “Is that you, Darrell?”
“Who do you think?” Darrell barked. “What are you doing here?”
“I went shopping.”
“In Jetmore?”
“Of course,” Viola barked in return. “I shop there a lot. What’s your problem?”
“Our engines died.” Darrell indicated the other vehicles with an expansive sweep of his arm.
“Butting in where you aren’t wanted again?” Viola shook her head. “Why don’t you just go home?” She placed her fists on her hips in almost exactly the same pose Darrell was using. “I could even give you a lift.”
Rhona gestured at the van. “Please start your vehicle and head north,” she reiterated.
“Listen to the woman,” Viola snapped. “Even you might be able to learn something.”
Rhona snickered as Darrell slowly turned towards his vehicle. He was ready to snarl at strange women and ignore an officer of the law, but he couldn’t face his own sister. She watched as Darrell pulled his key from his pocket and slid in behind the wheel. Moments later, the engine started.
All three women stood on the road watching Darrell jockey the van around and then head north. Rhona stepped out a little further and pointed at the next media vehicle. She made motions like a traffic cop indicating it should turn around.
Viola turned to face Rhona after they saw the taillights of the last vehicle move away from them. “You were serious about not talking to the media, weren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Darrell can be a little stubborn.” Viola turned towards her car and then looked back. “I’m sure he will try to find another way to visit.”
“Thanks,” Rhona said.
Three hours later, Rhona arrived back in the Intelligence Center. Laura met her at the door. “This is getting interesting,” she said.
“Yes, but I’m not surprised,” Rhona replied.
“Me either.” Laura led the way to a bank of displays. Much of the center was still dark to reduce the computational load on Dulcis. “The media people are screaming that they were mistreated and the public has the right to know what is happening here.”
“Do they have any pictures?” Rhona asked.
“Not any from today. A couple of them are showing stock footage of Jetmore and of you.”
Rhona gave a wry smile. “Number one villain, eh?”
“It seems that way. They’re also complaining that other cars drove around them without any interference.”
Sam’s voice intruded on t
he conversation. “We have something new over here.”
“What?” Rhona called back when all eight people in the room headed towards Sam.
Sam pointed to a screen showing a dark sky studded with stars, one of them brighter than the surrounding ones. “This is a feed from NASA. They found a new nova today.”
Every person in the room went quiet as Sam continued. “It’s Polaris.”
“Oh.” Laura covered her mouth and stood motionless.
Rhona had seen the eyes of an Abantu glow yellow with anger or white with intense anticipation. Today, however, the eyes of all five Abantu in the room glowed red. “I’m sorry,” Rhona whispered.
“Yes.” Laura turned her back and took several deep breaths. When she finally turned around, her eyes were almost their normal color, but her face was pale. Her voice had an unusual sibilant edge. “The solar flares were getting more intense and some of our people predicted a nova within 500 years. It happened in about half of that time.”
“Sooner than that,” Nanda replied. “The nova must have occurred about 175 years after we left.”
“Wow.” Adara shuddered and wiped tears off her face. Her voice was subdued. “We left in the middle of the pack. The last ship was scheduled to leave nearly 100 years behind us.”
“Would you know if anyone didn’t get away in time?” Rhona asked.
“No.” Laura rubbed her cheek while she replied. “Other than the Star Portals, our equipment is limited by light speed.”
“I’m sorry about your home world,” Keene added. “But is that last statement totally correct?”
Laura turned to face Keene. “Yes.”
Keene took a small step backward under her piercing gaze. Yellow had replaced the red in her eyes. He held up both hands, palms outward. “I didn’t intend to question you. I was wondering whether you have a prediction when or if Sol will go nova.”
Adara and Laura looked at each other. Laura finally responded. “We collected a little data, but I don’t know if it is enough to make a prediction.”
A moment later, Adara raised one finger. Her voice sounded almost normal even though her cheeks were still wet. “I could make a prediction.”
“You’ll have to wait until the next processor comes online,” Laura admonished.
Variations on Humanity Page 16
