Dominion (7 page)

Ten

It was two and half days before the Savior docked at a long stone pier in a cold nation accurately named the Frozen North.  By the time the ship had reached their destination, it had been repaired to a presentable condition.  Much of the hull repairs were merely bandages to at least maintain some interior warmth during the journey through arctic waters.

Once the ship was tied down, a walkway was laid out and the bell was rung to announce the crew’s liberty to leave the ship at will. 
Hawke was already waiting on the main deck with Kashuba at his side.  Night Rain and Sky Listener had brought their bags with them and also waited nearby.

“In spite of what the Shomani would have you believe, we do have access to technology and we do enjoy the advantages of motorized vehicles,” Night Rain offered, “I just wanted to let you know in case you feared it would be a cold journey to the fictional village of the Frozen North.”

“Fictional?” Kashuba asked.

“Surely you know that no one lives in the Frozen North or as some call it, the Frozen Continent,” Night Rain said.

“Yes, I have heard of the stories,” she replied.

“Welcome to that very continent,” he said, waving his hand across the snowy landscape.

Indeed, it was an industrialized and very inhabited place.  Smoke rose from the rooftops of the many buildings and homes that not only littered the nearby landscape, but also dotted the roads visible along the mountainous horizon.

“We will be residing at the Star Village n
ear the Iron Rainbow.  Your spacecraft probably arrived a few days ago and should already be at the village,” Night Rain stated, “On behalf of the people of the Frozen North, I welcome you to our land.”

“Thank you,”
Hawke said, “I’m ready to see this giant buried ship as soon as you’re ready to take me.”

Sky Listener laughed, then lifted his bags from the deck beside him.

“Patience, my friend,” Sky Listener stated, “We don’t even know if we’ve gained access to this thing yet.  Let’s get settled in first and give Night Rain and me a little time to greet our families who have awaited our return.”

“Indeed,” Night Rain stated, lifting his own bag over his shoulder, “One step at a time.”

. . . .

The vehicle awaiting them at the end of the pier was like nothing he’
d ever envisioned.  The truck was something very reminiscent of a backwards steam locomotive with a rectangular boiler tank responsible for two thirds of its size.  Steam was being released periodically through an exhaust chimney at the rear of the vehicle.  Unlike the locomotives from Earth, this one did not drive upon tracks and its passenger cabin was situated in front of the tank and engine.

The driver, seated in the center at the front of the cab paid his passengers no heed as he navigated the vehicle down the snowy highway. 
Hawke gaped at the populous villa passing by at a relatively slow twenty to twenty-five miles per hour.  He was amazed most of all by how much foot traffic there was in the arctic environment.  A man was selling what resembled crabs and fish at a roadside stand.  Two women were perusing through some various furs offered at another roadside stand.  An elderly woman carrying a bag and a steaming mug was exiting what appeared to be a coffee shop or a diner.  Children chased each other, throwing snowballs with no regard to others around them.

The villa could have been transplanted from anywhere on Earth and he’d have been none the wiser.  Throughout it all, he saw many animal-drawn carriages as well as the odd steam-driven vehicles.  For a fictional society, the place was very much alive and populated.

“It’s a fishing village,” Night Rain offered, “Some cities thrive on coal, others on oil, and others on farming.  This place doesn’t have a lot to offer beyond that which we take from the sea.  Commerce here is driven by seafood and bane ore.”

“And while you might emigrate to the North with a healthy appetite for affordable seafood, you will most likely lose that taste before long as it’s the only meat available in the North,” Sky Listener added.

“Yeah, but there’s such a variety of seafood that we’ve got more to choose from than those countries who dine on summer fowl and oklen calf all the time,” Night Rain argued, “Even oklen calf gets old after a while.”

Sky Listener shrugged, forfeiting the argument, but he still didn’t seem to agree.  The
villa gave way to an industrialized area where the buildings were larger and the smoke stacks higher.  Windmills were as common here as they were in the village, but these ones were significantly larger in size. 

The journey took about a half hour before they found themselves in what appeared to be a newer village.  This was evidenced by the abundant presence of tents and open fires.  The buildings that did exist were newer and cleaner in appearance than those of the previous cities. 
Hawke worried for a moment that they would be spending their evenings in cold tents, but even so, those tents had tiny chimneys that suggested heating was hopefully available inside.

“Welcome to Star Village,” Night Rain said as the vehicle finally came to a stop, “Home to the world’s finest astronomers, physicists, and cosmologists.  We offer the best equipment
for stellar studies which isn’t even available at the universities in Komasch.”

“Indeed,” Sky Listener said, “If there’s one place a spaceman such as yourself would feel comfortable, it would be at Star Village.”

The door opened, greeting them with a biting chill.  Kashuba drew tighter the blanket she had turned into a makeshift shawl.

“I promise to see that you two receive the proper attire,” Night Rain said by way of apology.

Their hosts exited the vehicle first, then waited as Kashuba and Hawke stepped down.  The wind was angry and cold, easily sinking beneath their blanket shawls.  Hawke held his own blanket tighter as his eyes searched for a refuge from the cold.  That was the moment he saw the enormous iron rainbow stretching across the span of the horizon.  He was immediately awestruck by the implied size of the buried ship.

“An amazing feat of engineering, wouldn’t you say?” Sky Listener asked, appreciating the expression on
Hawke’s face.

“For centuries, people assumed it was
just a giant metal arch built by some ancient race.  Legend told of it being part of an ancient celestial calendar and it was once thought to be a monument to some long forgotten god,” Night Rain added.

Kashuba shivered, equally
enthralled by the sheer size of the metal arch.  She tucked her chin into the blanket, trying to keep the chill from her neckline.

“Forgive me,” Night Rain said, concerned suddenly with his guest’s welfare, “I forgot my manners.  Let’s get you two out of the cold and I will see to it immediate
ly that you receive the proper attire.”

Eleven

Their permanent quarters for the time being would indeed turn out to be one of the many chimney-topped brown tents they’d spotted earlier.  Unlike the thin vinyl tents found on Earth, these ones were all
made of a very heavy fabric that was clearly sturdy enough to stand up against the arctic winds.  The tent was fully large enough to stand up in and offered about a hundred square feet of living space.  While merely ten feet by ten feet wouldn’t seem like much space for two people to call home, it was perfectly suited for its most important amenity – the small iron furnace in the center of the room.  The tent was already warmer than any room Hawke had had the pleasure of sleeping in on Rain.

“These tents are usually home to four people,” Night Rain said, pointing to the cots at each wall, “For now, this will just be home to the two of you, but don’t be surprised if you end up with roommates at some point in time.
  The showers and restrooms are only twenty yards to the east like I showed you and you’ll find all the food and drink establishments along the roadside where we were dropped off.”

“What about wood or coal for the furnace?”
Hawke asked, nodding to the black stove.

“This isn’t Komasch, my friend,” Night Rain laughed,
lighting one of the three oil lamps for him, “Coal and wood are hot commodities here in the North, so we prefer to use bane for heat instead.  We won’t need to refuel that thing for about a week.”

“Bane?”
Hawke asked.

“Cheronook magic,” Kashuba explained, waving him off, “T
he same stuff that operated the steamer we rode in on, I’m sure.”

“Yes, the steamer
does use bane as a source of heat,” he replied, “Though it’s anything
but
magic, my dear.  We’re not the ones who dabble in the mysterious arts and religions.”

Hawke
was already trying to peek inside the grill of the furnace.  Night Rain retrieved a hooked tool from the chimney flu and used it to open the furnace door.  The base of the stove was filled with glowing violet pebbles that gave off a significant amount of heat.

“Please tell me this isn’t radioactive,” he said, backing away, “Do people ever get sick or do they end up with swollen flesh from being around that stuff?”

“Well, they definitely get burned if they get too close,” Night Rain replied, “But no, I’ve not seen anyone get sick from it.”

“What is it, then?” he asked.

“It’s the magic stuff they sell in the marketplaces,” Kashuba replied, “Some of the Shomani buy the Cheronook’s witchcraft, but you won’t find them welcomed into any of our churches.”

Night Rain merely shook his head and closed the furnace door. 

“It’s sad what the Shomani have done to you, young lady,” Night Rain said, “Perhaps you will learn enough amongst us to be able to break free from their lies.”

He reached down
into a wooden chest and brought out some folded furs.  He tossed one to Hawke and the other to Kashuba.

“These blankets will help to chase away the cold at night.  I will have an associate bring you some clothing and other necessities in just a few minutes,” he said, turning to the door, “You will find
various soaps in the showers if you wish to wash up.  Otherwise, I highly recommend checking out some of the local establishments and meeting some of the locals.  I highly recommend The Comet or perhaps the Fisherman’s Grill.”

He reached out an
d took a gentle hold of Kashuba’s wrist, then turned her hand palm-up.  He dropped several small gold coins into her hand and smiled at her warmly.

“You are not my enemy, Kashuba, and I hope that one day you will learn to accept that we are not yours,” he said, “This is more than enough to take care of any of your evening adventures in town.”

“Thank you,” Hawke said, realizing Kashuba wasn’t going to say anything.

Night Rain nodded, then left them to the silence of their fabric home.  Kashuba was still looking down at the coins in her hand. 
Hawke came over and put an arm around her.

“Looks like real gold,”
Hawke said, lifting one of the coins, “This is valuable where I come from.”

“It’s valuable where I come from too,” she said, “Especially since this is Shomani gold.”

“What?” he asked, examining the coin.

“It’s almost like he wanted to show me that I wasn’t the only thing he’d stolen from the Shomani,” she said, “This is our currency.”

. . . .

He lifted the glass mug and examined the speckled beverage it contained.  On the other side of the yellow and red beverage was a lanky young man with beady eyes and a long thin nose. 

“Try it, my favored guest,” the bartender said with a smile, “If you don’t like it, I won’t charge you for it.”

Hawke
lowered the glass then took a cautious sip.  His tongue was bathed in a cool mixture of sweetness and a spicy heat reminiscent of cinnamon.  He set the glass down and swallowed.  Breathing in afterward, his whole mouth felt the effects of the cinnamon, but it only lasted about a second before the sweetness was all that remained.

“We have a candy where I come from,”
Hawke stated, “Atomic Fireballs.  This reminds me of it in a way, but thankfully, it’s not as painful as the candy.”

The man laughed.  Hawke
lifted the glass and raised it in toast.  He took another drink, then set it down again.

“My name is Radio Star – named after the very same Radio Star that never shuts up,
of course,” he said, “My mom said it’s because I talked too much as a child.”

“Hmmm,”
Hawke took another drink, then watched as two furry beasts entered the bar, “Never heard of a star that never shuts up.”

The two furry beasts transformed into a couple of sturdy men as they removed their thick coats and hung them on the coat rack.  They greeted the group of gentlemen at the end of the
bar and then proceeded to a table where two women had apparently been waiting for them.

“Of course you have,” Radio Star stated, “There are some of the more obscure ones throughout the galaxy, but Radio Star is the galactic king of all noise.”

“Seriously, what are you talking about?” he asked, returning his attention to the bartender, “Let’s not forget what I told you earlier.  I’ve been asleep for a couple centuries.”

He nodded in response, then motioned for him to hold on while he took care of something.  Radio Star refilled the drinks of
two ladies nearby, thanked them and then returned to the lonely “spaceman.”

“I don’t care if you’ve slept since the Shomani invaded Lopanica.  Even way back then, you’d have known about the Radio Star,” he said,
pouring himself a foamy beverage in a frosty blue mug, “But nonetheless, I’ll offer you a free course in modern cosmology.  The Radio Star was the first of the noisy stars that had been discovered.  Sadly, that particular star was discovered by a Shomani astronomer named Poe.  But, being a typical ignorant Shomani, nothing much came of that amazing discovery.  At least not until the Cheronook mimicked their telescopic ear and tried to duplicate the results.

“They not only rediscovered the Radio Star, they located two other stars a lot like that one.  Over the years, seventeen stars have been discovered that are speaking in one way or another.  Of those seventeen stars, fourteen are speaking Cheronook.”

Hawke choked on his drink, then took a moment to catch his breath.

“You are picking up human… uh… Cheronook communiqué from the stars?”
Hawke asked.

“Yes, and oddly enough, the most obscenely active is the star that’s the furthest away,” he replied.

“Dear Lord!  Can I hear that?  Do you have a telescope here that I can use to listen to the star?” he asked, “I’d love to know if my world still exists.  Since you are hearing the language of the Cheronook, I have to believe it really does exist somewhere out there.”

“You’re the honored spaceman,
Hawke,” he replied, “If any guest is going to have the freedom to use our telescopes, it would most likely be you.”

He stared at his glass, pondering the implications.  The group SETI had been devoted to listening to the stars for decades
before Hawke’s journey.  Their sad and continuous revelation was that the universe was disappointingly silent in all directions. 

Another furry patron entered the bar, b
ringing in a snowy gust of wind before the door closed.  The bartender leaned on the counter and pointed subtly toward the end of the bar.

“Someone who isn’t real thirsty seems quite interested in you,” Radio Star said, “It wouldn’t be so obvious if he was at least drinking something.”

Hawke took his eyes off the door and glanced casually toward the end of the bar.  There indeed was a younger man, perhaps even adolescent, who was seated there staring at the folded hands in front of him.  A set of crutches was propped against the bar beside the boy.  The kid turned to him and upon meeting Hawke’s gaze, quickly looked past him in an effort to pretend his attention had been drawn elsewhere.

“Do you know him?”
Hawke muttered, taking a drink from his glass.

“One from
the scientist pack that came in about a week ago,” he replied, “Maybe he’s family or a scientist himself.”

Hawke
nodded, then scooted off the barstool.  He ambled over to the boy and feigned interest in the crutches.

“What are you drinking?  I’m buying,”
Hawke said, placing a coin on the bar.

The kid smiled, looking down at the small gold coin.

“Shomani currency in the free world?” the boy said, his focus still on the coin, “Its value is universal, though.  Much the same as water, air, and of course land.”

“Doesn’t matter what language is on the coin,”
Hawke said, lifting it from the bar and then spinning it, “I guess that as long as it’s made of a precious metal, it’s worth its weight anywhere.”

“Anywhere indeed.  Even other worlds,” he replied, turning to
Hawke and offering his hand, “I am Wind Passage and I believe you are the spaceman called Good Weather Hawke?”

“Meriwether,” he
corrected, shaking the kid’s hand, “Meriwether Hawke.  And to answer your question: yes, gold has value on my world as well.  I hope you’re not suggesting I’m the forerunner to an alien invasion of your planet.”

He laughed, then picked up the coin and handed it
back to Hawke.

“I saw your ship and I’m part of the preliminary evaluation committ
ee to determine what we can glean from that ancient hunk of metal,” he replied, “I’ve no doubt that you are not a scout sent to annihilate worlds.  The ones who sent you would have forgotten you long ago.”

“Where’s my ship?”
Hawke asked, “I’d love to see the thing.  Maybe I can figure out why the pilot died.”

“It’s here – not even fifty yards from this bar.  And it’s no mystery why the
other person died.  His sleeping chamber went offline most likely in order to conserve energy to maintain yours,” he replied, “I’m sufficiently intrigued by the lack of any visible means of propulsion.  I’d love to pick your brain on this.”

“I assume it’s one of the reason
s I’m here.  I’d be glad to show you how it works, but without the means to build replacement batteries or to replenish the reactor, I doubt I can bring it online again.”

“Understandable,” he replied, “I’m one of the few however that is just excited about the concepts of such an advanced race.  Would you like to see the ship?”

“Yes!” Hawke blurted a little too quickly, “It’s getting dark out though.  Is it at a lit area?”

“Definitely.  Come with me.”