Freedom's Myth, page 13
part #3 of Freedom Saga Series
“Of course he is. How could anyone not be?” whispered Rowan.
Ryan paused to lovingly pat the side of the Star Hawk. The action was so like the affection that Gunther, Rowan’s father, showed his old motorbike that she had to smile. “Little girls marry their daddies,” she muttered the old wisdom and smiled. “I could do worse!”
Ryan came down the ramp. Rowan, Kitoy, and Tim moved to his side.
“Loading the rack is simple. I’ll show you, then let you get on with it.” Ryan collected a pair of grav-lifts, slid them under one of the cargo boxes and levitated it up the ramp to the front of the tracks coming out of the port in the Star Hawk’s side. He decreased the intensity of the anti-grav field until the far end of the lifters rested into a pair of short troughs on the track, then pushed the container forward. The tracks on the container slid over the wedges, which centred them on the rails from the Star Hawk. After the E.S.T.C. was half on the rails, it vanished with a whoosh into the ship.
“That’s it. No flashes of light or talking computers,” said Rowan.
“Why make things complicated?” Ryan shrugged. “If we could link to a dock, it’s even simpler. I…”
There was a clang that echoed through the overcrowded hanger bay. “Captain Chandler, Captain Chandler. Are you here?” minced a voice. A buzzing sound came from behind the stacks of cargo.
“I’m here, and you are?” called Ryan.
A moment later, a being appeared in the narrow passage that circled the storage crates. It was the size of a horse, had translucent wings folded against its back and a segmented body that ended at one end in a mouth flanked by two long feelers. Its back end tapered to a point from which a long spike projected. It supported itself on four segmented legs and had two arms behind and to the sides of its mouth, each of which ended in a pincer. Its body and legs were covered in a blue shell.
“Stop!” shouted Ryan and Kitoy in unison. They looked at each other in horror. Kitoy gave a small swish of her tail.
Ryan continued to speak. “This shared area is set to accommodate Homo sapiens and felinezoid. You are in grave danger.”
The waspzoid flicked its wings, and the buzzing sound increased. “Thank you for your concern, but it is not a difficulty. I am Wizziminipzzy. You can call me Wispy. That’s what Saggal and Kate do at Wesnakee. I have had additions to my immune system so that I may enter your sector safely. Captain Chandler, I must speak to you.”
Ryan shrugged and spoke to his crew. “Start loading the E.S.T.C.s. Henry can handle the sort as they come aboard. Try not to make too much of a mess. This place is tight for space.” Ryan turned to Wispy and made a beckoning gesture with his arm.
“Are you a female Homo sapiens?” Wispy had a note of shock in his voice as he moved closer.
“No, male. Why do you ask?” Ryan led the waspzoid to a corner of the bay away from where the others were loading cargo.
“This is embarrassing.” Wispy swished his antennae. “In my culture, waving the forward mandible is an invitation to discuss joining in a reproductive cycle. I haven’t been in the shared area with Homo sapiens very long. I’ve heard that yours is one of those species that use sex as a social bonding tool. I thought you were being friendly in a way I cannot accommodate.”
“For Homo sapiens, the gesture is a way of saying follow me.”
“I appreciate your lesson. It is so difficult sometimes. I know I am the newcomer, and I must accommodate the species of this shared sector, but there is so much to learn, and so many sentients have no patience and are unwilling to tell you when you make a mistake. Why, just the other day a k-no-in became offended when I—”
Ryan held up his hand. “I’m sorry… Wispy. I do have a lot of work to do.”
“You have no time for me.” Wispy’s antennae drooped.
“I can spare a few minutes. Just please, tell me why you’ve come?”
“Oh, thank you for sparing me time. I will try to use it wisely. You see, I must ask you a favour.”
“You don’t even know me,” observed Ryan.
“I know, that is what makes it so difficult. If you were of my breeding amalgam, it would be easy, but you aren’t, and I am ignorant of the finer nuances of Homo sapiens’ culture. I mean, the Space Traveller’s Guide to Homo Sapiens is a nice start, but it omits much. Don’t you find that that series needs a good rewriting? There are so many details the books miss—”
“Wispy,” Ryan interrupted the waspzoid. The sentient emitted an odd buzzing noise that was irritating.
“Of course, I am sorry. The point is, I am scheduled to be one of the relief workers you are taking to Murack Five. I’m an exosociologist, junior grade. I’m supposed to catalogue kangazoid cultural norms so that when they are reintroduced to a more natural environment, we can start them back to a society approximating the original core society disrupted by the accident and social contamination during the rescue. It is going to form the basis of my dissertation to obtain my advanced standing degree. In any case, I contracted to do this relief rotation nearly a year ago, right after I received the immune system enhancements.”
“Wispy, I need to get all this cargo loaded. Please, what do you want from me?”
“Oh… Well… As you know, the relief mission’s departure has been delayed several times. This has led to the lease on my living space running out. I have had to vacate to make room for a felinezoid couple who have paid in advance to take possession of the space. He is an EVA technician working on—”
“I’m sure they are lovely.” Ryan resisted the urge to raise his voice.
“Of course. I have no place to live until I leave on the mission, and it’s just about time for me to moult. It would be so nice of you if you’d let me move into the room I will be using during the journey early.”
Ryan sighed and muttered, “Long trip for a short drink. I have no problems with that. I haven’t configured the berths for the comfort of our passengers yet, but you are welcome to stay.”
“Oh, thank you so much. And I am easy to accommodate. I like Homo sapiens ’ beds. I’ve always liked a soft sleeping platform. I’ll pick up my own shell fragments after I moult. That will probably happen on the voyage, but it’s better to not leave these things to the last moment, don’t you think? I’ll just go around and get my things. I left them on a grav-sledge by the hangar’s entry door. It was just too awkward to manoeuvre it into that narrow passage. There are a lot of supplies. If you like, once I drop off my possessions, I can help you load them. I like to keep busy. It makes the time pass—”
“Wispy!” Ryan kept his voice short of a shout.
“Yes?”
“Go get your things. I’ll have Henry, my ship’s operating system, guide you to your quarters. Henry is a full AI, so manners matter.” Ryan smiled, showing teeth, hoping that the waspzoid would understand it as a pleasant gesture while also hoping it would have the common instinctive reaction of it being a threat display.
Wispy waved his antennae, then happily flounced away.
Ryan leaned against a crate feeling like he’d just done heavy labour.
* * *
Greg settled his hulking, bald-headed form in the Freedom’s Run controller’s chair and scanned new data that had come in from the Switchboard Station. His emerald-green skin lightened, and his yellow, slit-pupiled eyes dilated as he watched through Ryan’s perspective as Rowan collapsed after telekinetically restraining a batzoid that was trying to kill Pikeman. A slender, forked tongue flicked out of Greg’s mouth. Ryan’s readings were bordering on panic, but he still did what was necessary.
“If I didn’t know they are both sstill alive, I would be sscared,” Greg remarked to himself as he watched Ryan’s thumbs press against the artery that supplied the batzoid’s brain. “Gene, placse an editing marker with note. Third persson will carry the action better here. CsGI sshould be conssidered.”
The console to his right chirped, and Greg pressed a button, pausing the playback. He looked at the side screen, then, with a key tap, shifted Medwin and his friends to the main screen. “Gene, pleasse confirm that the ssatellite feedss have been diverted.”
“Only this board is receiving S.E.T.E. satellite feeds of the eastern set region border,” replied the computer.
“Good. We wouldn’t want the sshow to end before it beginss.”
* * *
Medwin scuttled forward, keeping to the cover afforded by some large rocks by the river. He peeked over the boulders, then waved his friends forward.
Kendra led the others in a sprint and skidded to a halt beside Medwin.
“I can’t see anybody,” remarked Obert.
“Me neither. Still, we should wait until dusk. Use the long shadows to our advantage,” said Medwin.
“How are we going to cross the river?” asked Armina.
“Swim.” Medwin stared at the fast-flowing water.
“Won’t it look suspicious if we go into town soaking wet?” objected Kendra.
“People know we had a raft. Just tell them it got swept onto the Wolf River and sank. Everyone knows the Wolf is treacherous. We had to swim to shore,” suggested Obert.
The group looked at him with incredulity.
“What?” asked Obert.
“That’s a good idea,” observed Armina.
“And this is surprising because?” Obert rolled his eyes.
“Remember, don’t fight the current. Swim across it. We have a long way to go before we’ll be past Sun Valley… the set region. Going downstream won’t be a problem.
“Take your shoes and pants off before you get in the water,” said Kendra.
“Why?” asked Obert.
“Lifeguard here. It’s really hard to swim in shoes and pants. We can stuff them in our packs. Empty your canteens and close them tight and anything else that can hold air. Make the packs as light as we can. Then we can hold them. They’ll help us stay up as we kick across.”
“Right.” Medwin opened his pack and began sorting through its contents. The others followed his example.
* * *
“Clever girl, Kendra.” Greg’s hand hovered over a control. “No, I’ll wait and ssee if they can do it without enhancsement.”
* * *
The sun had almost set when Medwin and his friends bolted for the river. The tree planters had been gone for nearly an hour. They hit the current, clutching their packs ahead of them. One stride, two, then their feet were off the bottom, and they were kicking across the flow towards the far bank.
“It’s cold,” complained Armina.
“Keep kicking. Stay together,” ordered Kendra.
“They’ll see us for sure.” Armina kept kicking but started falling behind.
“Keep going. Once we’re on the other side, we’re just out for a camping trip that went wrong,” reassured Medwin.
The current dragged them downstream. Obert and Armina fell behind.
“Look for the light,” shouted Medwin before he focused all his energy on getting across.
Kendra moved ahead of him and moments later was scrambling up the far bank. Medwin reached the shore fifty strides down current from her and scrambled out. Shivering, and with cramping muscles, he stumbled up the bank. Finding a rise of land, he clambered to its top. In the twilight, he thought he saw one of his friends crawl from the river.
Pulling the can of camping heat from his pack, he pried the lid off and set it on the rise of land. His fingers were trembling and stiff as he dug the lighter out of his pack and flicked it. Several tries later, it sparked. He ignited the camping heat. The fire grew, sending out a wavering light and warmth.
Taking his pants and boots from his pack, he wrung the water out of the former and pulled them on. He was trembling with cold.
“M-M-M-Medw-w-win,” Kendra’s voice called from the base of the hill.
“H-H-Here.” He pulled off his T-shirt and wrung the water out of it before putting it back on.
“C-C-Cold.” Kendra climbed the slope. Her clothing was damp, but she had obviously wrung the worst of the water out of it, and she wore the light jacket that had been in her pack. Her black hair was plastered close to her face.
“I k-k-know.” Medwin pulled his jacket from his pack and pulled it on despite its dampness. He huddled close to the canned heat, warming his fingers.
Kendra sat beside the small fire. “O-Others?”
“D-D-D—” Medwin took a breath, forcing his lips to stop trembling. “Downstream.” He swallowed. “I think Obert made shore.” His fingers warmed a little from the fire, Medwin pulled on his battered hiking boots and clumsily did up the laces.
“We n-n-need to find t-them.” Rising, Kendra pulled her sleeping bag from her pack. “Help me wring it out.”
Taking one end of the bag, Medwin and Kendra twisted it until it was mostly dry, then repeated the process with Medwin’s bag.
They draped the damp bags over their shoulders.
“Ready?” asked Medwin.
“No, but Obert and Armina can’t wait. Cold kills,” remarked Kendra.
Nodding, Medwin put the lid on the camping heat, extinguishing the flame, then wrapped it in a damp towel. He put it in his pack. Pulling out the electric lantern, he turned it on and, still shivering, he and Kendra stumbled downstream.
“I never knew the Wolf River was so cold,” remarked Medwin.
“Another reason for people not looking past it,” observed Kendra.
Medwin nodded and focused on scanning the riverbank. Minutes later, they found Obert on the bank huddled in a fetal position and shivering.
Kendra rushed to his side and wrapped him in her sleeping bag.
“How bad?” asked Medwin.
“Bad. I’ll look after him. Leave me the camping heat. I have the cooking rig. You look for Armina. We need to get everyone warm and dry.” Kendra opened Obert’s pack, pulled out his pants and started wringing them dry.
Medwin extracted the still warm camping heat, pulled off its lid and sparked it. Wrapping himself in his damp sleeping bag, he started downstream, silently praying that Armina had made it to shore.
* * *
Greg watched the screens, his forked tongue flicking in agitation.
“Nova blasst policsy.” Reaching for Armina’s controls, he released epinephrine from her control pack and boosted her metabolism. Her core body temperature crept up.
“Mike issn’t John. He won’t mind,” Greg told himself.
* * *
Medwin stumbled along the bank, then he saw Armina lying on the barren rock. He raced to her side and fell to his knees beside her. Her pack was gone, and her skin was icy. Swallowing, he pressed his fingers into her neck. Her pulse beat slowly against his fingers. Wrapping her in his sleeping bag, he sat and gathered his strength.
* * *
Greg smiled. “A hero scsene will appeal here.” He adjusted Medwin’s biology.
* * *
Medwin found the strength to stand, then picked up Armina, still wrapped in the sleeping bag. Somehow, he managed to carry her. Step followed step, as his exertion drove the cold from his body and the damp evaporated from his clothes.
He stumbled towards the light emitted by the camping heat.
“Kendra,” he called.
The dark-haired girl staggered to his side. “I’ve spread out Obert’s sleeping bag. We should put them together on it so they can share body heat, then cover them with our bags.”
Medwin grunted, carried Armina to the spread-out bag, and laid her down.
“Obert, get over her,” Kendra ordered.
Obert crawled to lay beside Armina, clutching a sleeping bag around himself the entire time. Medwin noticed that Kendra had stripped the wet clothing off their friend and left it to dry on a rock.
Kendra draped the sleeping bag over her friends, then went to the camping heat and took a small pot off the wire cooking frame she’d erected over it. “Eat this.” She passed the pot and a spoon to Medwin.
Medwin carefully dug into the gloppy oatmeal in the pot. The warmth descending to his stomach was the most wonderful thing he’d ever felt.
Kendra warmed her hands over the camping heat as Medwin ate. The pot empty, she put it over the heat and filled it with water.
“How dry are your clothes?” asked Kendra.
Medwin felt his clothes with his hands. “My socks and boots are a swamp. The rest are okay.”
“Good. Take your socks off so they can dry and get under the covers.”
“I—” began Medwin.
“Spoon Armina. She needs the body heat. I’ll heat the water and try to get Obert to drink it, then I’ll spoon him. It’s going to be a long night.”
Chapter Eleven
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“Then I told her that we needed to understand other cultures because of the time we could save not reinventing pottery.” Wispy walked beside Rowan, carrying what she understood to be a dichrostigmazoid shipping container as large as himself and twice as heavy into the Star Hawk. The clutter extracting their cargo had caused had forced them to alter their loading to clear space in the hangar. Tim and Kitoy focused on the E.S.T.C.s and Wispy and Rowan on the containers from other species. Ryan moved from duty to duty as need called.
They’d been loading constantly for eight hours and hardly put a dent in the supplies in the hangar. In the Star Hawk, the old ground forces barracks and its associated rooms were half full, floor to ceiling.
Reaching the Star Hawk’s elevator, Rowan paused. “You go first. It will be a tight squeeze with both of us.”
“Oh, all right. I’ll tell you about what my father-sister said when you get up to me.”
Wispy scuttled into the elevator with his load and the door closed behind him.
“Does he ever stop talking?” asked Rowan.
“At least you can leave the room,” observed Henry from the wall speaker.
“Even when he’s alone?” Rowan sounded incredulous.
“Pardon me,” interrupted a shy-sounding voice.
