Authors: Phil Geusz
Tags: #adventure, #guns, #aliens, #space, #first contact, #postapocalyptic, #rebellion, #phil, #geusz, #artemu
"Robert Herman Byrd," Rapput declared in his
native tongue, "and Timothy Scott Byrd have ceased to exist. In
their places stand Nobleyouths Robertherman Gonther and
Timothyscott Gonther." He cupped a hand on each of our skulls. "You
now share our privileges and you share our birthrights. You share
our property, our glory, and our most sacred bloodline. Share also
our dangers and obligations, and together we shall fear nothing."
He turned to Dad as if expecting something.
For a long moment our father sat motionless,
his features ice-cold. "May God bless Robert Herman and Timothy
Scott wherever they go, and may their lives and accomplishments
serve His highest purposes," he finally said.
Tim and I looked at each other. We weren't
church-people. In fact, neither of us had ever heard Dad pray about
anything before. Rapput didn't seem to take it well either, though
he couldn't show offense because of the Atremu hands-off policy
regarding local religions.
Perhaps that was why Dad's blessing had
taken the form it had?
Rapput covered his emotions by draining the
last of his orange juice before standing up from the table. "You
are now Gonther," he reminded Tim and I, "and therefore expected to
excel in all things. Pack up your personal belongings and weapons
at once. You have two human hours, which is plenty long enough for
any self-respecting member of the most noble of all clans." He
nodded at the robe bearers. "You each will assist one of the
hum—one of the children. See to it that everything is stowed in a
shipshape manner." Then he turned back to Dad and smiled. "We are
now family as well, you and I. The proper terminology is
'quasi-cousin by adoption.'"
Dad nodded, his eyes still icy.
"Which means the social rules regarding
mixing business and pleasure are relaxed between us. Yesterday you
spoke of hunting and I was forced to turn you down. Today, however,
circumstances are different." He smiled again. "Come! I know how
painful this must be for you, and believe it or not I empathize.
Perhaps we can ease the tension by shooting a few rabbits together
while we wait for my new nephews to pack?"
5
It didn't take us anything like two hours. We found
enough alien-made cargo containers waiting for us in the hallway to
hold everything we owned. Nor, apparently, were we expected to soil
our own hands with domestic work. Our assistants hastened to pack
everything we pointed at, growing noticeably agitated whenever we
attempted to stash some particularly beloved item personally. One
special container was devoted to nothing but guns, boxes and boxes
of ammunition, and the trophy-pelts that hung from our walls.
"Tim!" I cried out as I was overseeing the casing of our beloved
lever-action Marlin. "Look at this!"
He came dashing over. In the bottom of the
case were half a dozen more rifles and four handgun sleeves. There
was a note attached to one of the rifles, and I snatched it up.
"You're growing up fast, boys," it read in Dad's handwriting. "Soon
you'll need bigger and better guns. These were all I could dig up
on short notice. I'm so terribly sorry that I can't be there to
teach you how to use them." Our eyes met in disbelief—guns were one
of the costliest items anywhere these days, the supply being as
short as it was, and it looked as if he'd nearly emptied his own
cabinet for us.
Mom did sort of the same thing, in her own
way. She'd stayed up all night making her special corn dodgers and
chocolate chip cookies for us. Tim and I agreed they were the best
food anywhere on the planet, though he had more of a taste for the
cookies while I favored the sweet, crunchy cornbread. Before we
even began packing, we found pounds and pounds of the things
wrapped tightly in plastic and spread out among the containers in
such a way that even if some were lost the rest would make it.
"Think of me when you eat these," her note read, "as I shall
constantly think of you. Always be proud of who and what you are.
That's all I'll ever ask."
I wasn't sure whether these parting gifts
and notes made things easier for us, as they were probably intended
to do, or harder. But they were obviously important to Mom and Dad,
so we wiped our eyes on our sleeves before the guards noticed we
were crying again and got on with business.
When we were done, we'd practically emptied
our rooms to the wallpaper. Only the furniture, sheets, and
curtains remained. I felt terribly empty inside, and so must've Tim
because before I knew it he and I were hugging each other. It was
pretty weird, and not at all the sort of thing we normally did.
"This is awful," he whispered in my ear.
"Yeah," I agreed. "I don't want to go
either. But we gotta. They say it's important." Then we released
each other, tugged the ill-fitting and hated red robes into place,
and practically marched back to the living room.
We were much earlier than expected, it
seemed, because there was no one there to meet us except a short,
thickset, and extremely muscular Asian man sitting bolt upright on
our couch with a large suitcase at his feet. For an instant, he
glanced our way and his eyes widened.
Tim and I were accustomed to unexplained
strangers showing up at our house, what with Dad being a
congressman and all. Because our situation was so unusual due to
his job, our father had explained to us a long time ago, the normal
rules about not talking to strangers and such didn't apply so
strongly to us. "If you see someone waiting for me," he'd said,
"please, go out of your way to be nice to them. While they may just
want to talk about the usual political nonsense, you pretty much
already know everyone in that crowd. If they're a stranger, then
more likely than not they're a constituent with a problem. It's my
most important job to take the best care I can of that kind of
visitor, and you can help me best by showing you care about them
too." So it wasn't surprising that both of us smiled and spoke up
practically at the same second.
"Hi!" I said.
"We're Tim and Robert," my brother added.
"Congressman Byrd's sons. Can we get you something to eat or
drink?"
The man turned to face us again, his eyes as
blank and cold as the barrels of a side-by-side shotgun. Then, very
slightly, he smiled. "My name is Li, and it's a great pleasure to
meet you both." He bowed his head, and so powerful was his sense of
presence that our necks bent in reply. "However, while my pleasure
is sincere, it's my guess that certain others intended we be
introduced more formally. It might be wise, therefore, for us to
pretend we've never met."
I pursed my lips. "How could it matter when
and how we meet?"
"I'm not entirely certain that it will," he
replied, still smiling. "Yet in a situation dominated by unknown
variables it's best to cede as much control as possible to those of
the highest status."
Tim and I looked at each other, confused.
Then we turned back to Mr. Li. "So, we should go somewhere else and
pretend we never saw you?"
"It'd be wisest, I judge," our guest
replied, again half-bowing from his still-seated position. His
English was perfect and carried a Midwestern accent. Yet, there
also seemed to be something deeply foreign about him.
"Okay," I agreed reluctantly. "There's
coffee in the kitchen. And tea as well, if you drink it. Dad loves
green tea."
"I know," he replied. "I'm the one who first
introduced him to it, and I still send him a box every year at
Christmas." He smiled again. "I'll be fine waiting here, thank you.
Run along, and don't waste your last moments at home on
hospitality. This time is yours and no one else's. Use it as best
you can."
6
After that we went out to the stables to say goodbye
to the horses and Patch the cat, whose job consisted entirely of
keeping the horse's quarters rodent-free. We didn't have any dogs
because Mom was allergic, so Patch was
our best animal-friend. Then we went
to the
bunkhouse to say goodbye to the help. Some of them had lived on the
ranch longer than us and were almost like aunts and uncles. But
they were all out working, so we wrote a note saying we'd miss them
and left things at that. By then we were expected back in the
kitchen to meet Rapput and, we guessed, fly away to wherever it was
that our new life was going to be. I clenched my hands into fists
at the thought then looked down and saw Tim had paralleled both my
thoughts and action. "Come on," he said. "Let's get this over
with.
Everyone was assembled in the kitchen,
waiting for us. At first I was afraid we'd be in trouble for being
late, but the clock ticked off the last second just as we stepped
in.
Rapput nodded. "Excellent! You're both
perfectly on time.
A good
omen."
"How was the hunting?" Tim asked, looking at
Dad.
"Excellent!" Rapput replied for him, nodding
at a pile of small field-dressed carcasses lying on the
butcher-block awaiting further processing. "Your rabbits are a
remarkable quarry indeed! While we of course have ecological
analogs, none move half so swiftly or cunningly. Among our kind
it's a shameful thing to take an herbivore as a totem, yet here
it's commonplace. I begin to see why. Even your lowliest game
species are possessed of hidden virtues." He smiled again. "When
asking about the success of a hunt—or for that matter, any topic
involving bloodshed—one should always first address the highest
blood-ranking participant present. To do otherwise is grossly
impolite."
I looked at Dad, whose face once more was
hard and cold. "We won't do it again," I promised.
Rapput nodded, satisfied. "A child must
learn all things, and I imagine it's even more difficult for an
adoptee. Your errors are both inevitable and eminently forgivable.
Continue to strive to improve and all will be well." He smiled
again, but I felt all funny inside even though I wasn't sure quite
why.
"Now," Rapput continued, "allow me to make
an introduction." He pointed to Mr. Li. "Boys, meet your new coach.
Mr. Li, allow me to present your sacred charges, Nobleyouths
Robertherman Gonther and Timothyscott Gonther."
Mr. Li nodded soberly, and I realized he'd
been right about pretending we hadn't met. To do otherwise would
have—however slightly—diminished Rapput, and already it was growing
obvious this wasn't a Good Thing.
Rapput turned to Dad. "Mr. Li was chosen
from tens of thousands of other potential coaches and drafted to
serve as a physical fitness instructor and educational consultant.
We Artemu as yet have little idea of what to expect from human
children in terms of physical limits and capabilities, you see. Mr.
Li is a well-known authority on the matter. He once won a silver
medal in your Olympic games as a wrestler."
Mr. Li bowed deeply. "I'm honored to be
called upon to serve in such an important cause."
Rapput smiled again. "Far too few humans are
so open-minded and cooperative, at least as of yet. Perhaps in
time, if we all work together, we'll be able to change that. In the
meantime, I hereby declare that as of this moment you're under the
protection of the House of Gonther. Upon arrival on the homeworld
you'll be assigned quarters, privileges, and rations equivalent to
those awarded our highest-ranking and most beloved slaves. This is
no mean allotment, I assure you." He bowed again then turned to
Mom. "Human mothers, I'm informed, tend to coddle and infantilize
their young to a remarkably advanced age. Perhaps it'll relieve
your maternal passions somewhat to know that a fellow human will be
present to advise us regarding your offspring's physical
limitations?" He smiled awkwardly—Artemesians were always knocked a
little off their stride when addressing females because their own
weren't sentient.
Mom blinked. Then her face grew hard and
angular in a way I hadn't seen since Tim had accidentally fired a
twenty-gauge slug through my bedroom window while I was making
faces at him from the other side of the glass. "Greatly relieved,
sir," was all she said.
"Excellent!" Rapput replied, not picking up
on her anger at all. Then he turned to Dad. "Mr. Li is well
qualified for his role. We employed your finest people to assist us
in the search."
Our father nodded. Then he looked at Li
before meeting Tim's and my own eyes. He seemed to be trying to
communicate more than his words alone contained. "He's the finest
man available for this particular job, I'm quite certain. I've
looked into his background. Perhaps he'll be able to advise you
regarding the boys' academic development as well. After all, he
holds three doctorates." Then he turned to Li. "Sir, I'm deeply
grateful to you for the sacrifice you're making."
"Human children journeying into the unknown
deserve no less," he answered with another half-bow. "You should be
proud of your boys. They're brave indeed, and I humbly swear to do
my best by them."
I blinked but said nothing. Dad and Mr. Li .
. . They were pretending to be strangers when in fact they knew
each other quite well. Or so Mr. Li had claimed, and I had no
reason to doubt his word. Why on earth . . . I looked at Tim, but
he just shrugged as well.
Then Rapput was on his feet again, and it
was time to leave. "I'm going out to the shuttle. You may hug your
parents goodbye in privacy. Immediately after that, we depart."
Then even his fearsome, arrogant features softened. "Make them long
hugs, if you like. My schedule is a tight one, yes. But not
that
tight."
7
Rapput seemed to think Tim and I ought to be excited
as could be about riding in an Artemu courier ship. But of course
we weren't, even though for most kids it might've been really
something. Dad traveled in them all of the time, being on the North
American Interspecies Subcouncil. He'd explained to us that it
wasn't really much different from riding in a jetliner, which we'd
already done lots of times. Sure, shuttles were equipped with twin
blaster cannon and bomb-racks and all that—Rapput even showed them
off to us. Tim and I took turns ooh-ing and aah-ing at the things,
but they didn't actually test-fire them or anything. If they had,
well . . . Yeah, that might've been pretty cool after all. But as
things were, it was just a small jetliner with funny seats and
fittings and warning signs printed in alien script.