Threshold Shift (6 page)

“Hey,”
Paul’s vocoder flicked up in volume. “Turn off the
lights.”

“You’re
lucky I don’t turn off the heating,” Jacob said, and was
gone.

Returning
to the office, he sat back in his chair, touched the console, and
absently read Roe’s report about the mining dispute. He felt
angry, frustrated, and switched the console off before he was more
than a paragraph in. There was definitely no sleep to be had, and
with an experimental thought, he tried to estimate how much time he
had before the watered down Jopo H deserted him. It would not be
long, and he concentrated on preserving the effect, relaxing his
mind, turning his emotions down to a minimum. As he did so his hand
wandered again to the memory disc hanging around his neck. The man he
used to be was on that disc, a recording of the fearless young
Marshal, before he had grown too slow, and too stupid. He had not
arranged a new scan since Eleanor’s funeral, and he always wore
it or kept it close. Always frightened that it might end up in the
wrong hands and all his history, all his secrets would be revealed.
Interplanetary Central rules dictated that it should be locked up in
the vault at all times and a new recording made every six months. He
had disobeyed those rules for years, even faked the logs so that he
could get away with it. He had not wanted an evolving picture of
himself to be kept on the database. He wanted to preserve the man he
had been before.

He
poured himself a cup of coffee and sat behind his desk, there were a
few hours until sun up yet, and he just sat there soaking up the
silence. He examined his feelings and realised he felt at peace for
the first time in ages. The Jopo may have been watered down, but it
helped, just as his contact with Jon had helped. But some things were
inevitable, and as he sipped his coffee, he wondered what it would be
like to be finally dead, to never think again. He realised that in
becoming a Jopo H addict he had simply realised an ambition for
self-destruction. In the near dark, sipping his coffee, he almost
felt happy.

I am
Jacob Klein, husband of Eleanor, father of Jon.

*

The
morning came, and Jacob was awoken by the rhythmic scrubbing of Jon
cleaning the weapons from the gun cabinet.

“What
time is it?” Jacob asked wearily, stretching himself within the
chair. It was not the first time had slept in his chair. The aches in
his joints were unpleasantly familiar.

“It’s
just gone eight,” Jon said.

Jacob
was alarmed. “You should have woken me,”

“You
looked like you needed the rest,” Jon said as he stripped down
a concussion rifle to its component parts.

Jacob
felt a moment of admiration. “It has to be a few years since
you’ve done that.”

“Hard
to forget,” Jon replied. “Plus you don’t have
anything new here. It’s all pretty old stuff. The newest gun
here must be twelve years old.”

“Well,
I don’t think much of the new guns,” Jacob said. “You
want some coffee, breakfast?”

“Already
eaten,” Jon replied. “But I’ll have some coffee.”

Jacob
poured two cups of stale coffee, and then let himself out to take in
the morning air. He could see Main Street was busy. A heavy mixture
of Threshians and humans thronged the sidewalks and the road. It was
if all the residents, merchants, farmers and miners had arrived at
once. Jacob smiled to himself. It was funny how news travelled in
Threshold. They had come to witness Michael’s visit, and
judging by the number of Threshians milling about, they wouldn’t
have to wait long.

Leaning
against the parapet support, He saw Roe in the distance, threading
her electrocycle slowly between humans, Threshians and immobile
electrocarts alike. Finally she parked up next to the Jailhouse,
dismounting and plugging in her charger.

“Morning
Roe,” Jacob greeted.

“I
was just ahead of him,” Roe said.

“Michael?”

“Michael
and at least a dozen Threshians, they parked their vehicles at the
recharge station at the other end of town.”

Jacob
put down his coffee on a windowsill. “Well, you’d better
get inside,” he said. “I don’t know what’s
going to happen.”

She
nodded, and marched up the steps and into the Jailhouse. Jacob
waited, reaching across his belt to remove his gun with his good
hand. He did not have to wait long. Michael appeared at the far end
of the street, limping forward in long brown robes like some ancient
Franciscan Friar. He was flanked by four Threshians either side, all
dressed in trousers, boots and a mixture of red and blue shirts. The
inhabitants of Argon parted before them, retreating to the shade of
the surrounding buildings.

Jon
appeared at Jacob’s side, a concussion rifle in his hands.

“Today,
he’s a holy man,” Jacob said.

“The
Threshians think of him as their Messiah,” Jon commented. “He
who has come to free their people from enslavement and lead them to
freedom.”

“A
student of human history,” Jacob said. “He uses it to his
advantage.”

“There’s
a man with him,” Jon noted. “I don’t think I’ve
ever seen him before.”

Jacob
squinted through the morning sun and saw that there was a man, a
human, walking beside Michael. He wore expensive brown boots, a
matching pair of trousers and a long brown overcoat, the shadow of a
wide brimmed hat obscuring the features of his face. The man halted
when he noticed Jacob’s gaze, nodding to Michael before
disappearing into a nearby supply shop. Something about the man’s
manner had been disturbingly familiar.

No,
Jacob thought, dismissing the notion. He turned to his son. “Be
on the lookout, Roe said he had at least a dozen men, I only count
eight.”

Jon
surveyed the scene, turning from side to side. “They could be
trying to take position around the back.”

“Tell
Roe, to get downstairs and keep a gun trained on the prisoner at all
times. If anything happens she’ll know what to do.”

Jon
nodded and retreated inside. Jacob scratched at his chin with the
muzzle of his gun. It was itchy after his shave.

Michael
limped to the foot of the Jailhouse steps as Jon returned. Jacob was
pleased his son was there. The gun he held was not so reassuring in
the wrong hand.

“Hello,
Michael,” Jacob said.

The
Threshian in brown robes removed his hood to reveal a long reptilian
snout, his hourglass eyes impossibly deep and black. Jacob could not
read those eyes.

“Good
morning, Marshal,” Michael replied with the clearest vocoder
enunciation Jacob had ever heard. It was obviously better for public
speaking and also a testament to Michael’s technical resources.
There weren’t many engineers that could so skilfully modify a
vocoder module.

“What
can I do for you, today, Michael?” Jacob asked.

“As
a member of The Town Council, I convened a special session which has
cleared my nephew of all charges. I now ask that you release him into
my care.”

“Michael,”
Jacob replied. “You know as well as I, that the Marshal’s
office is outside Town Council jurisdiction, we have Interplanetary
Central authority.”

“I
thought you might say that,” Michael said. “Perhaps we
can talk inside. I would like to see my nephew.”

Jacob
nodded. “OK Michael, but just you, not your… followers.”

“My
entourage go where I go.”

“Not
today,” Jacob replied.

“What
if we just come in anyway?” Michael asked. “Regardless of
what you say.”

“Well,”
Jacob said. “You could. There are more of you than us. But I
promise you Michael, I will shoot you first, and my deputy downstairs
will deal with Paul. Your ‘entourage’ may get us, but
what do you gain?”

Michael
nodded solemnly. “Very well, Marshal, we’ll do it your
way. “ The robed Threshian nodded to his companions as he
mounted the steps. They did not follow. Jacob accompanied the
Threshian into jail, leaving Jon at his back by the doorway.

“OK,
Michael,” Jacob said. “I think you probably remember the
way.”

They
descended into the basement where Roe sat on a stool before Paul’s
cell, a concussion rifle aimed on the prisoner.

Michael
limped unevenly towards his nephew, putting himself between Roe’s
rifle and Paul.

“I
would have thought this below you, my dear,” he said.

“Hi,
Michael,” Roe replied, shifting a little on her stool. “I’m
just keeping him safe for you.”

The
old Threshian snorted and then turned to his nephew. “How are
you, Paul?”

“I
need to get out, uncle,” Paul replied. “I do not belong
in here like some caged animal!”

“What
about the man you murdered?” Jacob asked. “What about his
widow and children?”

“Mrs
Miller has received compensation, Marshal,” Michael said with a
backward glance. “Enough credit for her to leave Threshold and
begin a new life on a human colony.”

“Buying
her off doesn’t excuse the crime, Michael,” Jacob said.
“Paul will have to stand trial.”

Michael
rounded on Jacob. “What of all the Threshians murdered by
humans, Marshal? Will you bring them all to justice as well?”

“There
hasn’t been any of that since the January settlement,”
Jacob said. “Amnesty was agreed for all, human and Threshian
alike. This is a new crime.”

“And
what of yourself?” Michael asked. “A Jopo H addict, isn’t
that illegal? Shouldn’t you arrest yourself?”

“Don’t
worry, Michael,” Jacob said. “I will pay the price very
soon.”

“You
should, after all you’ve done.”

“Uncle,”
Paul said. “You’re wasting your time talking with him.
Just force them to release me.”

“Be
quiet,” The older Threshian ordered. “Marshal, I have a
proposal for you. Release my nephew, rescind all charges with
Interplanetary Central, and I will make sure you have an indefinite
supply of Jopo H.”

Jacob
grinned. “No thanks, Michael.”

“You
are suicidal then?”

“I
willingly became a Jopo addict,” Jacob replied. “Of
course I’m suicidal.”

“Then
we have nothing more to discuss,” Michael said.

Reaching
between the bars he clasped Paul’s hand in his. “You’ll
be free soon, nephew.”

“Oh,
I don’t think so, Michael,” Jacob said. “He’ll
be off-world soon, far away from here and you, and if try to stop
that happening, well, accidents happen all the time.”

“What
would you gain from that?” Michael asked.

“I
wouldn’t gain anything,” Jacob said. “You might, I
suppose. If your nephew dies you could use it as an excuse for
another uprising.”

The
Threshian was silent for a moment, and Jacob wondered if Michael was
actually considering doing just that.

“No,”
Michael said finally, his eyes on Paul. “Some prices are too
high to pay.”

“Good,”
Jacob replied. “Let me see you out.” He motioned to the
stairs, and followed Michael up to the office.

“You
are a strange human,” Michael said.

“I
am just enforcing the law,” Jacob replied. “That’s
all I’ve ever done.”

“Paul
is young, foolish. He only wants what all Threshians want, for
humanity to leave our planet.”

“It
will happen, Michael,” Jacob replied. “I have no doubt
about that, eventually it will have to happen, but until then I will
not tolerate murder.”

The
old Threshian bowed. “Please, Marshal, do what you believe to
be right. I will do the same.”

Jacob
watched as Michael limped down the Jailhouse steps to rejoin his men.

“What
happened?” Jon asked.

“He
asked nicely, I said no.”

“So
what happens now?”

Jacob
could only shrug.

Chapter
Four

Jon
watched Michael and his followers march back the way they came. His
hands curled tightly around his rifle as the man in brown rejoined
the group from the decking of the supply shop. As he looked on the
man turned to face him, and although Jon couldn’t make out his
face, he felt his gaze. For a moment the stranger was immobile,
simply standing there staring, until with a casual wave he turned to
depart. Jon blinked and shook his head.

“What?”

“It
is him,” Jacob said, kicking the ground beside Jon. “I
always knew he’d turn up on Threshold one day. Just knew it.”

“What
do you mean?” Jon asked. “Who is he?”

Jacob
turned away. “Trouble,” he said. “Big trouble.”

“Dad?”

“Don’t
press me, son,” Jacob warned, retreating into the Jailhouse. “I
have to think.”

Jon
followed his father. “He was with Michael.”

“Well,”
Jacob said. “That’s his way. Look, just leave it Jon.
Please. Go and see how Roe is doing”

Jon
frowned. His father had revealed little about his experiences prior
to his arrival on Threshold. It was a chapter of his life he had
declared closed long ago. Now a face from that hidden past had
appeared and Jon was understandably curious. He had always wondered
where Jacob had come from, and what that silence had denied him.
Surely his father realised that time was short? Unless they found
more Jopo, he wouldn’t last long. There shouldn’t be any
secrets.

The
old man was logged into his console before he had even sat down at
his desk. Jon peered over his father’s shoulder at the display.
Shuttle manifests? And he was scrolling through the names of the
passengers of the most recent inbound flights.

“Dad,
who is he?” Jon asked again.

Jacob
switched off the screen and swivelled his chair to meet Jon’s
eyes, pointing a finger firmly at the staircase. “What did I
tell you?”

“You
can’t keep things from me,” Jon said.

The
old man frowned. “Roe has been by herself for a long time.
She’ll be thinking the worst.”