Alpha Rising (24 page)

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Authors: G.L. Douglas

Tags: #speculative fiction, #science fiction, #future, #action adventure, #futuristic, #space travel, #allegory, #sci fi adventure, #distant worlds, #space exploration, #future world, #21st century, #cs lewis, #space adventure, #visionary fiction, #believable science fiction, #spiritual science fiction, #sci fi action, #hope symbol, #star rider

BOOK: Alpha Rising
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He questioned her further. “Can we come out
later and spend time with you?”


When Alpha’s airborne and
your monitor is clear, you’re welcome to come to the flight deck
operations area.”


I’ll come there with Ivy.
I want to see how this big ship operates,” he said.

Ivy smiled. “He loves instruments and
mechanical things.” She patted Star’s arm. “And you don’t have to
explain why we can’t leave the ship when we get to the other
planets. We understand. You have a short time to search, and lots
of territory.”

Star nodded. “That’s right.”

 

 

*****

 

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

 

 

Star opened the journal to the bookmark and
read, “‘Intersecting paths of the daystars create a wide range of
temperatures on Colosse. At times, it’s the brightest of all the
planets. Colosse supplies grain and seafood to the co-op effort.
Enemy manipulation ruined the more delicate crops, resulting in
seafood as the staple.’”

Passing through sky the color of molten
orange, Bach measured ground temperature minutes before touchdown.
“We get the hot weather,” he said. At landing, he put protective
eye drops in his and Star’s eyes to counteract the bright
environment. When they stepped out, a dry, hot breeze greeted them.
Bach grimaced and said, “Like facing a giant hair dryer.” He looked
ahead with dread at the densely populated area. “A big place to
search.”

They’d walked a short way to the city limits
and found three roads leading through the business and residential
areas when Bach saw something else of interest. He pointed to a
fenced area on the right. “There’s a wildlife sanctuary over there.
Let’s check it out.”

A sign on the gate read “All species on
exhibit,” and listed the animal’s zoological names.

Star smiled with relief. “All species? We
can get our animals here.”

His face lit up for a moment, then he
grumbled, “Seems too easy.”

A clickity-clack sound at their backs grew
steadily louder and they both turned around. A young, black-haired
man with narrow eyes approached pulling a rickshaw. He stopped,
nodded, and motioned for them to get in.

Bach helped Star into the carriage.

The rickshaw runner’s route wound along a
curved seawall where dozens of old fishermen, who looked like they
hadn’t moved from their prime spots in years, stood shoulder to
shoulder along the wharf. Tanned and weathered, the anglers reeled
in flipping catches from the salty water and tossed them into large
baskets and barrels along the walkway.

The runner stopped on the main road and
helped Star from the rickshaw. After Bach stepped out, the man
bowed and trotted off into the crowd.

On busy Main Street, scores of noisy
residents socialized, ate, and shopped for handcrafted jewelry,
electronic gadgetry, and colorful clothing. Open-air fronts on
several stores and a dozen portable kiosks in the middle of the
road enticed passersby. Off to one side, people gathered around
benches and tables in a grassy park, telling stories and
participating in games while a band played and performers
entertained on a stage.

Pungent aromas of seared meats and spicy
seasonings, complemented by the sweet smells of honey and cinnamon,
wafted through the air. Bach walked to a food concession and
checked out the fare. After a deep, pleasurable breath, he smiled
at Star with big eyes. “I’m hungry. How about we eat something good
while we have a chance.”

She nodded. “I’m hungry too.”

Mouths watering, they headed to the kiosk
with the shortest line and, while waiting their turn, watched the
perspiring, dark-haired vendor as he hovered over red-hot cookware
with knife blades flashing. The man had no time to look up, yet
managed to joke with his waiting customers.

They’d almost reached the counter when
Star’s anticipation went flat. She pulled Bach aside. “How will we
pay?”


Oh, no. Didn’t think about
that.”


Maybe he’ll
barter.”


For what?”

She patted Bach’s chest pocket where he’d
put the storyteller doll.

The vendor glanced up as Bach pulled the
doll from his pocket. The man watched as if he couldn’t take his
eyes off the toy. He mopped his greasy hands on his food-stained
apron and came from behind the booth to touch the doll.


Can we trade this for
food?” Bach asked.


Yes!” the vendor answered.
“I’ll give you all you like.” He pushed trays into their hands and
piled steaming rice, seafood, and orange-flavored rolls onto wooden
plates.

The ravenous two balanced their trays while
the merchant filled two mugs to overflowing with a frothy amber
liquid. Anxious to calm their growling stomachs, they hurried
through the crowd to a bench facing a row of storefronts. Bach
balanced his tray on his lap and rubbed his hands together with a
wily grin. “The heck with etiquette.” He stuffed a jumbo shrimp and
half a roll into his mouth. “Good stuff,” he mumbled, spewing
crumbs as he spoke.

Star smiled at his antics.

Bach wrapped both hands around the big mug
and took a couple of swigs of the foamy brew. He popped his tongue
off the roof of his mouth. “Ahhh.” His nostrils flared. “Tastes
like beer.”


It’s philo. Made from
grains.”


Beer!” he said,
chuckling.

A female street mime dressed in a black and
white bodysuit sashayed to the bench and took a long sidestep in
front of them. Three painted black tears fell from each eye onto
her chalk-white face. The mime looked first at Star, then at Bach.
She stuck her fists into her pockets and dramatically withdrew her
left hand, opening it slowly. Empty. She withdrew her right hand
and presented three gold coins in her outstretched palm. Bach
reached out. “Am I supposed to take the coins?”

The mime looked at him with a disconnected
stare and fisted her hand. Then she unfolded her fingers one-by-one
to display her empty palm. She shrugged and strolled away to Bach
and Star’s applause.

Bach slugged down more philo and leaned back
on the bench with eyes closed to savor the cool tingle. Then he
jumped up all at once, pointing with hands flailing. “Star, those
coins … that mime’s coins had symbols on them.”

She looked at him strangely. “I didn’t see
symbols.”

He looked around impatiently, took the food
tray from her lap and set it aside, then pulled her from the bench
by the hand. “Hurry. Where’d she go?”


I didn’t see anything on
the coins. Are you sure?”


Yes, yes. When I watched
her perform they didn’t register. But now I know I saw
them.”

Star pointed toward the crowded street. “She
went that way.”

They left their food on the bench and
searched through a mass of faces, colors, and sounds on Main
Street. But the mime was nowhere to be found.


This can’t be happening.
They can’t make
themselves
disappear,” he complained.


Maybe she went down by the
seawall.”

The two searched both sides of the wharf’s
cobblestone street, and the alleyways, rest areas, and bait stands.
Star caught up with Bach, who had moved ahead. “I’m going to ask
someone,” she said. “This is a big area. The mime might have a
performance schedule.” She approached a dozen men fishing
shoulder-to-shoulder on the dock. One man, his face tanned and
wrinkled like a Shar Pei dog’s, turned to look at her. She moved to
his side. “Will you help us? We’re looking for a mime we saw on the
street. Does she perform on a schedule?”

The man’s slanted brown eyes narrowed.
“Mimes disappear. It’s part of their act. No one controls a
mime.”

Bach yelped from behind
Star, “
Their
act?
You mean there’s more than one?”


Certainly there’s more
than one.”


And you’re saying we have
to wait until they feel like showing up again?”


No one controls a mime,”
said the man. He turned back and focused on his fishing
rod.

Star pushed Bach along. “Keep looking.”


This is making me mad,” he
said with a snort. “What if we have to wait another day for her to
reappear?”


If we go back to where we
were, maybe she’ll come again, or if another mime performs we can
check her coins.”

They wove through the crowd and neared where
they’d left their food when Bach spotted a mime behind a nearby
vendor’s booth. “Look! Maybe that’s her.” He rushed to the mine,
clenching and opening his hands as if performing the coin trick.
“Are you the one who did that excellent coin trick for us—the one
with the three coins? Please … do it again.”

She stared.


Oh, please … come on,” he
pled. “Say something. Do something. I want to see your coin
trick.”

The mine’s unblinking eyes seemed glued to
her mannequin-like face.

Star stood back, watching. They were looking
for a mime with three painted tears under each eye. Bach had found
her. Now it was time for a little reverse psychology. Star elbowed
him. “Let’s go, Bach. That’s not her. The one we saw had different
face paint.”

The mime leapt in front of Bach in a
confrontational stance. She shoved her hands into her pockets and
stood motionless with a blank look on her face. Bach’s anticipation
seemed a pressure cooker about to blow. Finally, to the sound of
his heavy breaths, she pulled her clenched fists from her pockets
and, with slow, agonizing moves, held both downturned fists
straight out.

Bach knew he was supposed to choose, but
didn’t want to play. “Just show me what’s in both hands,” he
snapped.

Her face seemingly set in stone, the mime
poked her hands back into her pockets and walked away.


Stop!” he called out.
“Don’t go. I’ll choose.”

The girl stopped, but didn’t turn around.
Bach stepped in front of her, stared at her blank face, and fought
to control the irritation in his voice. “Your coins are sacred,
unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. There’s a reward for their
possession. I’ll help you receive it.”

The mime seemed made of stone.

Star pulled on Bach’s arm. “Come on. She’s a
poor performer. Let’s find the one who worked magic with her
coins.”

The mime’s poker face
twitched. She stuck her hand into her right pocket, then threw a
nonexistent coin onto the street. She repeated the move with her
left hand, but this time flashed a coin at Bach before forcefully
throwing it to the ground. The coin rolled under a booth. Bach
flattened himself to the pavement, retrieved the coin, and
hurriedly turned it over and around. Then he realized that
an
x
spanned the
circumference.


An
x
!” he groused in exasperation. “It’s
not a symbol at all, it’s a dumb
x
.” He tossed the coin onto the
vendor’s counter, grumbling, “I’m going back for my
philo.”


We should move on and
check out the residences,” Star said.


If our lunch is still on
that bench, I want to eat the rest of it. We don’t know when we’ll
get fresh-cooked food again.”

Their meals were still on the bench, and as
soon as they finished eating, Bach took the trays to a receptacle
alongside the door of a jewelry store where several people had
stopped in front of the picture window to watch goldsmiths working
inside. He stood with the spectators for a minute or so, watching
two male artisans set colored gemstones into bracelets, and a
female, with black hair reaching halfway down her back, working at
a buffing wheel.

The lady polished a gold piece, turning it
over and around before holding it up for final inspection. The
crossed-circle icon sparkled in her hand.

Bach rushed into the store. “Please, may I
see the piece you’re working on?”

The sloe-eyed woman handed him the gold
piece. “It signifies reverence for land, wind, fire, and
water.”

Star had seen Bach enter the jewelry store,
but when he didn’t come back out after a few minutes, she got up to
find out why. When she stepped inside the store, he handed her the
symbol.


It’s beautiful,” she said
to the woman. “Is it your own design?”


No. My future husband,
Yang, designed them. We’ll wear matching ones.”

Bach looked at the two male goldsmiths,
wondering which one might be Yang, but the woman pointed to the
vendor’s booth where the pair had bartered for food. “Yang’s
concession is outside.”

Bach stammered for the lady’s name. “Uh,
Miss….”


Yin,” she said.


Yin?”


My name is Yin,” she said
again.


Yin? You’re Yin and he’s
Yang? Oh, my gosh,” he muttered. Pointing to the symbol in Star’s
hand he asked Yin, “Can we take this to Yang’s booth? We’d like to
talk to him.”


Yes. I’ll go with
you.”

When they arrived at Yang’s kiosk, Yin said,
“These people want to talk to you about your artwork.”

He nodded with a half-bow and noticed Star’s
necklaces at the same time. “We anticipated a sign from the
Creator. We are ready.”


Excellent!” slipped from
Bach’s lips. “We have far to go and must hurry.”

Yang abandoned a line of hungry people and
wove his way through the crowd to find a rickshaw. Yin, Bach, and
Star returned to the jewelry store for the second symbol. Within
minutes, Yang pulled up with the rickshaw and the four were on
their way. They would gather animals at the sanctuary.

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