The Chronicles of Misty

by Ed Hurst

  Fortis followed him into the well-lit office. Through the large glass window on the opposite wall, one could see odd pieces of equipment. He decided the rounded ceramic object was a hydrogen tank, as it had a single ceramic pipe running to a large interior chamber with a wide flat opening along the side. The opening was dark. He caught just a glimpse of an old style hydrogen separation unit commonly used on some planets Fortis had visited. He thought to himself it was probably one of those expensive imports they managed to keep running here, since it was obviously mostly metal.

  He had to force himself to turn and pay attention at the mention of his name. It was another perfunctory introduction, and Fortis was quickly fascinated by the collection of items displayed on one shelf, running wall to floor and wider than his reach. Various pieces of raw silica mixed in among some of the previous products. Something utterly unexpected caught his eye.

  Glancing back from time to time at it, he tried to listen to the conversation. The man behind the table was embarrassed. George was saying, “Richard, I understand keeping reasonable business confidences. Nothing I say or do will serve to force you. But if the man has failed to deliver on a bargain, wouldn’t you like to know if something unpleasant has befallen him? Will you destroy all we’ve built just because someone is a little nervous about someone finding his secret mine?”

  Richard struggled for a few moments. Finally, he opened up his pocket device and showed George a picture with some information displayed below it. George touched his own device to this one, apparently copying the data. Then he reassured Richard, “My only interest is the village and our reputation. Indeed, you know I pointedly never got involved in your business as long as it was only your business.”

  Richard glanced at Fortis meaningfully. George replied, “He’s from off-planet. He has no interest at all.”

  “Except for one thing,” Fortis interrupted.

  Both men turned to him. He stepped over to the shelf, reaching up high to a flat gray rectangle about the size of his hand, and thick as the tip of his finger. Pulling it down, he turned it over in his hands. “This is at least the shell of a standard Imperial Era military individual communications unit.”

  Richard seemed to welcome the distraction. “This has been handed down in my family for several generations. We never really knew what it was, but we believe it’s all here.” He reached for the device, pressed on one corner and the thing opened like a book. Both internal faces were smooth, but dark and faintly translucent. He handed it back to Fortis.

  “I wonder if it still works.” Fortis began looking at it, tracing his fingers along the edges, faces, until suddenly it glowed and came to life.

  Richard looked stunned. George asked, “Do you know how to operate that?”

  “Of course,” Fortis smiled. “It’s like the one we have at the university computer museum.” He stroked and tapped on the one face, as images flashed on the other. The other two men watched as Fortis inventoried what was stored on the device. “Did you tell me there was once a military ship visited here?” he asked.

  “About three hundred years ago, just before the last rash of wars started,” George said.

  “This is a planetary survey log.” He turned it where they could see it.

  Turning it back, he tapped and stroked some more. Then he froze for just a second, until a smile slowly crept across his lips. “Who else has had access to this device?” He looked up.

  Richard thought for a moment. “My grandfather told me it had been stolen once by a distant cousin. The thief had it for a while when he was caught in possession. He was sent him to the North Islands. They never saw the man again.”

  Fortis turned it around to George. “Books. Books on warfare, of course, but also books on government and political theory. Many of them related to one of the ancient empires on Terra, which collapsed just before your people came here, George. I have a digested copy of them on my spooler. It’s all about rational political theory, republics, pluralistic societies, nuclear family households, capitalism, credit systems...”

  “Democracy,” George muttered, gazing at the screen.

  Chapter 32: Bits and Pieces

  They were on the road this time because, George said, it was the wagon route for the silica shipments. They met the wagons of their entourage at the junction where the road turned to Manley City. Everyone gathered in George’s tent that night while he recounted the events in the village. As promised, he left out the private business details. But he did mention they found the source of the pernicious democracy teaching. He explained it was critical he and Fortis pursue the leads.

  This meant going to the capital city to consult some officials. Lisa smiled at the idea of returning to her childhood home, where her parents had immigrated before she was born. The twins were happy to be back on their assigned duty, with possible adventure in the offing. As Lisa busied herself with domestic chores, the four men stepped outside.

  They climbed a nearby hilltop and sat in small circle in the tall grass.

  “So we have thus far,” George was counting on his fingers. “An apparent ranger captain trying to get off-planet. He spouts this nonsense about democracy and centralized government. But nobody knows who he is, and the rangers deny missing any captains.

  “Further, this fellow flew on a glider, and added a balloon fired with hydrogen cylinders. The glider included reeds, which we can’t explain, but apparently grow somewhere on Misty. We know there are some parts of Misty not too well explored except by the rangers who take prisoners out to the North Islands.

  “We have a fellow who has for quite some time been delivering the highest grade silica ore on the planet to a Manley glass plant. Richard says it was a family connection through some aunt, and has been going on for as long as he can remember, so that’s at least fifty years. None of the other mines come even close, and no new ores have been discovered for mining in over a hundred years.

  “Somebody previously employed at said glass plant was exposed in depth to the democracy garbage. Seems he got his hands on a military computer device left by the last foreign visitor to Misty before Fortis. The technician probably went to the North Islands, but we don’t know. We should be able to get something on him from the Sheikh’s archives.”

  They sat silently for a few minutes. It was Stanley who spoke, “Something in the North Islands is not what we have been told.”

  Fortis and George stared at Stanley, then each other.

  Three days later, George was earnestly explaining why it was so vitally necessary he access the clan archives without disturbing the Sheikh. The official in green and dark red robes was having none of it. However, he allowed there was no need for a formal introduction and so forth. He left George waiting a few minutes, ducking behind a curtain of the tent which stood as vestibule over the entrance to the one stone building in the city. A moment later he wordlessly motioned, insisting George follow him alone.

  Fortis replayed the known facts in his mind repeatedly, but nothing new would rise from his intuition. It was not simply gaps in the data, but very large gaps. There was no apparent pattern from which to extrapolate. The only thing was the obvious conclusion the rangers were hiding something. Somehow, it didn’t help to make the hour go by any faster, and the twins seemed almost asleep on their feet.

  When George emerged, he had bundle wrapped in dark green fabric. He paused, staring back at the curtain through which he had emerged. His face was a complete blank. After some moments, he turned without a word or gesture and walked back in the direction they had come from the outlying village for visitor’s tents.

  For the longest time, George sat staring at the bundle in his lap, sitting in a folding chair under an awning extension on his tent. Finally, he called Fortis and the twins to him. He motioned for them to pull their chairs up close. He rolled back a part of the cover, exposing a black fabric.

  “I’ve been commissioned to investigate the ranger station up the coast a ways. Evidently the Council had
planned for such a thing.” He covered the black fabric again. “Do you recall, Fortis, I told you I didn’t know all the Council knew?”

  Fortis nodded.

  “Part of that was no knowing why my own clan was under suspicion. It began to seem reasonable when I realized this strange business might be connected to our glass plant. What I didn’t know was the same fellow who brought the ore would then disappear with a ship load of food and other goods, but nobody registered his trading anywhere else.”

  “So he was the go-between for some secret supplier of the silica ore, exchanging it for food and common goods,” Fortis volunteered.

  “And” – with some emphasis – “he was the third generation doing this same thing,” George explained.

  “And,” Fortis mocked gently with a smile, “our thief was three generations ago.”

  George grinned. “The thief disappeared from the records when he was turned over to the rangers.” He paused a moment. “Along with a female prisoner shipped out at the same time.” After another pause, “A very naughty young woman caught in adultery. Her intended husband exercised his right to plea for clemency. Seems he was utterly smitten by this very pretty girl, and wanted her to have a chance to live. The rangers didn’t report them dead or lost or anything at all. No other clan received them on probation.”

  “A breeding pair. But does that justify auditing the rangers?” Fortis asked.

  “We have records of missing equipment. But the records we have for that ranger station don’t collate. It’s not at all rare to lose stuff on the rough passage between two ends of the desert belt toward the North Islands, but it appears someone has made changes to the equipment records to hide a pattern. Instead, we have a much larger pattern which is broken.” George held up one finger. “And some of it was recent.”

  “So maybe if we see the original records, it will help us clear up this disturbing business of flying rangers nobody knows,” Fortis smirked. More sedately he added, “Assuming I’m included.”

  George stood up. “Boys, the recruiting mission has been suspended. I still need some alien expertise,” looking pointedly at Fortis, “and our bodyguards.” The twins smiled, actually rubbing their hands in anticipation.

  Chapter 33: Judge George Manley

  Fortis looked at George riding on the courser beside him. “George, have you ever heard an ancient Terran phrase, ‘sneaker net’?”

  “No.” George was mildly interested.

  “Basically, computers always have been able to communicate directly via wires, then eventually with radios and now through galactic hyperspace signals. Aside from signal delays through whatever media, it meant instant sharing of data. But the same data carried via some physical storage by hand from one computer to another was called a ‘sneaker net’. I’m told it’s an obscure reference to footwear.” Fortis gave George a half smile.

  “And on Misty we have the bird net.” George smiled.

  “So a great deal of data is shared and compared periodically that way?”

  “Though the pace of our development might not be as fast as out there where you come from, we now get the entire Council archives on each bird chip with much room to spare. It’s encrypted pretty well, and various algorithms compare signatures and such. They meet physically every so often. Corruption, by accident or intent, is controlled that way, even if it does take awhile.” George laughed.

  “Does an updated copy come with the judicial robe?” Fortis asked.

  “With a key for decryption, Professor Intuition.”

  A moment later, Fortis asked, “What would induce a ranger to dishonest reporting?”

  “Discovering that is our mission.”

  Back on board the ship, the Captain was laughing in a most undignified manner. When he caught his breath, he stood up straight and said, “Give the order, Judge Manley.” Not just any judge, but George was a Special Magistrate of the Council.

  Out loud Fortis wondered, “Who outranks you?”

  The Captain gleefully jumped in, “Nobody!” He began laughing again.

  “It’s not permanent,” George reminded him with almost no humor.

  Fortis half smiled, not sure why the Captain found it so funny.

  “Great power, even greater headaches,” George noted. “Once I put this on, I have to give people the permission to breathe, for goodness’ sake. They are required to stop whatever they are doing and wait for me to order them to proceed. The whole purpose is to investigate without warning.”

  On the voyage to the ranger station, George asked Fortis to share the digest of some of the books. Fortis outlined the obvious differences he had come to understand between the types of political systems, citing historical examples. George was disgusted. “Of all the hideous things, an empire of people who quickly forged their own chains of slavery because they worshiped material prosperity. All it took was a few lies to take advantage of popular ignorance to win the popular vote. And all that assumption about being under attack when it was they who were attacking everyone.” He shook his head.

  Fortis nodded. “The worst part is all the clandestine services, which pretended to serve the governments who sponsored them, but actually served some shadowy alternative government. They were the ones who masqueraded as enemy and conducted all the supposed terror attacks on their own people. This continued until the end of the brief existence of that first Terran global empire. Your predecessors were lucky to escape alive before the next empire found itself facing a much bigger interstellar human space.”

  Turning to Fortis, George asked “You are sure that military computer won’t turn on again?”

  Fortis promised. “I reversed the polarity on the battery and it burned the circuits. You saw the smoke, smelled it.”

  “Depending on how many people are infected with that virus, it may take a full generation to rid ourselves.”

  “Well,” Fortis noted, “there were at least a dozen fools in Johnston.”

  It was ten days sailing in the strong easterly winds to reach the ranger station. George directed the Captain to anchor behind a low forested island until dark. There was a long wharf for larger vessels, and the ship slipped in quietly before dawn. The crew themselves tied up to the dock. George, Fortis and the twins simply stepped off the rear deck and marched up the dock. By the time the watchman noticed, it was too late to give notice. The black robes with white trim were unmistakable, and he simply froze.

  “Remain on duty and notify your watch commander if anyone else approaches, including your fellow rangers,” George ordered him.

  The man had been guarding the entrance to a large building not unlike the one Fortis remembered on Johnston Island’s southern approach. The stairs were in a similar location and they climbed without delay. The man slumped at the desk nearly fell into the floor trying to jump to attention.

  “You are the watch officer?” George inquired mildly. To the man’s nod, he continued in the same tone. “You will insure your harbor crew render due services for my ship at the dock. By no means will you interfere with the personnel aboard that vessel, as the Captain is your superior officer.” The man nodded vigorously. “You may speak when we have left the building.”

  And so it went, throughout the morning. The barracks troops were ordered to make ready for inspection, but George noted it was simply to keep them busy. The commander was marched into his own office in front of the quartet, and the door locked behind them.

  “Colonel, you may call me Judge Manley. Professor Plimick is my assistant. We will now conduct an examination of your records. Our particular interest concerns first a pair of prisoners I shall name. You will bring up the raw logs from the chain of custody.”

  It only took two hours to find it all. Roughly a century previously, the technician and the adulteress, among other prisoners, were on board the prison ship. The boat managed to make the crossing without incident, but upon clearing the northeast corner of the western continent, the woman created a disturbance. Apparently she u
ndressed partially. In the chaos, she managed to dive into the sea, followed closely by the technician. They climbed aboard the dinghy and cut loose the line lashing it to the ship, and then maneuvered it right in among the rocks at that location, disappearing in the direction of the shore.

  Assuming the pair would not do well without their supplies, the crew decided to resume their journey, taking the other prisoners to their assigned island exiles. Upon returning, they found they could by no means approach, neither gain sight of the area where the pair escaped. In both directions for some distance was this highly unusual rocky buffer holding the ship at least a half-kilometer from the shore. The matter was forgotten, until the ship returned and it was noted some equipment and supplies of the rangers themselves was missing.

  A month later, a different ship with a different crew passed the same area, as was the routine for such ships. Nothing was recorded, but the ship returned missing some equipment and the rations were unaccountably short. No action was taken. At first, this sort of thing was random. Monthly voyages on regular rotation would see a small loss with no apparent pattern, but no one bothered to investigate or report. Yet the basic facts of in and out were logged.

  This continued until the last voyage, which had returned a week ago. George checked the roster of crew members and ordered those men to assemble in the training yard.

  Chapter 34: Gentle Inquisition

  Eight men marched silently out into the yard. They came to halt in neat formation facing George, who waited as if utterly bored. Then he tilted his head to one side, smiled and spoke gently.

  “Have a seat boys.” They all sat rigidly on the ground. George hiked up his black robes and joined them. Fortis was sitting on a bench with his back against the building. The twins were stationed a couple dozen meters off to either side, arrows nocked on the strings of their longbows, but aimed down, held by one hand.

  “Relax.” He waited a few seconds. “Anybody married or engaged?” Four hands went up.

  He put his left hand over his chin and mouth and stroked for a few seconds. Then opening his hand in invitation said, “How many of you would go home right now if I found a way for you to be relieved of duty properly?”