Swallow the Sky: A Space Opera (22 page)

BOOK: Swallow the Sky: A Space Opera
3.89Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

“Honor to the Covenant” Carson replied stepping forward. “My name is Carson, and this is my wife Aiyana.”

“Delighted to meet you
Mr. Carson, Mrs. Carson”

“We just landed” Carson explained, ignoring the spluttering noises emanating from behind him.

“Er, yes” the official
said. He glanced around. “I’m afraid I don’t see your
aircraft
.” His
Universal was supplemented with Old English.

“I returned it to orbit.”

The man took an
involuntary step back.

“Oh goodness, you are
Outsiders. Please forgive me” he smiled “I’ve never met any before.” He stepped
forward again, inspecting them for tentacles and eye stalks. Finding none,
bureaucratic protocol took control.

“I am Assistant
Controller Carruthers, welcome to, ah, Falk. If you come this way please I will
check on the procedures for Outside visitors.”

They picked up their bags
and trudged after the official.

“May I inquire where you
are from?” said Carruthers as they entered the building. It was little more
than a single cluttered office. Large windows ran the length of the walls
affording a panoramic view of the airport.

“New Earth, I am a
Commonwealth mailman.”

“Really, mail from
Outside, who would have thought?”

Carson sighed. Usually
his arrival at an isolated world caused a sensation.

Carruthers took out a
binder and leafed through it.

“And yes! Standard
procedure is to contact the Consulate. He’s our sole foreign resident, you
know.”

He picked up a
horn-shaped piece of plastic tethered by a cord – presumably to keep it from
getting lost in all the clutter – and placed one end to his ear. After a pause
he said “The New Earth Consulate in Wurlington please” speaking into the other
end of the device.

As they waited Aiyana
opened a private channel to Carson.

“So what’s with the wife
routine,
darling
?” she sub-vocalized.

“Playing it safe – some
backward societies are very conservative”

Carruthers began talking
again.

“New Earth Consulate? Honor
to the Covenant and good afternoon. This is Assistant Controller Carruthers at
the Ferndale Airport. I am calling to announce the arrival of two
Outsiders
.
Yes, yes, I’ll wait.”

After another pause he
straightened his back.

“Honor to the Covenant to
you too Mr. Consul. Yes, a mailman. Mr. Carson and his lady wife”

He turned round.

“He wants to speak to
you”

Carson warily put the
offered device to ear.

“My dear man!” a distant
voice cried. “Welcome to Falk, you actually have mail? You must come straight
to the Consulate.”

“I’m delighted to be here
Sir” Carson replied. “Can you send a vehicle?”

“No need, put that
official on the line.”

He handed the device to
Carruthers who, after listening to the Consul, placed it in its cradle and
pulled out a large printed pad.

“I am preparing a government
travel warrant” he said as he carefully marked the pad’s surface with a
scribing device. “Here” he tore out the top sheet and handed it to Carson. “Present this at the Ferndale Railway Station.”

Seeing Carson’s confusion
he went on “There’s a train to Wurlington” he consulted a small disk strapped
to his wrist “in one hour. I say, why don’t I drive you there?”

They followed him outside
to where a wheeled vehicle was parked. After loading the luggage Carson and
Aiyana were placed in seats behind Carruthers who turned his attention to an
array of joysticks, buttons, and handles. Moments later there was a small
explosion, provoking a scream from Aiyana.

“Sorry about that” the
official said “the old girl is running a bit rough.”

The vehicle lurched into
motion, growling and coughing. Carson leaned forward, fascinated by Carruthers’
skill with the controls.

“What’s the power
source?” he shouted above the din.

“One liter flat four”

“Ah yes” said Carson. He had no idea what one liter flat four was, but after a disconcerting encounter
with another vehicle as they left the airport he was reluctant to distract
Carruthers again.

As they headed north
along the narrow road the flat landscape gave way to wooded hills and open
valleys. Neat rows of cultivated plants appeared in fields clustered around
rural dwellings. The red sun climbed higher warming the air. It appeared to be
springtime and the roadside was lined with tangles of fragrant wildflowers.

Aiyana was entranced. “Isn’t
it the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen?”

Carson smiled and held
her hand; how exotic the scenery must have seemed to someone raised in the
arcologies of an asteroid belt. After half an hour they entered a small town of
sturdily built stone houses. Eventually their vehicle spluttered to a halt in a
plaza featuring a statue of Adhiambo Cissokho at its center.

They unloaded their bags
and followed Carruthers up the steps of a building bordering the square. A
painted sign announced
Ferndale
Railway Station.
The travel
warrant was inspected by an attendant and they emerged out of the other side of
the building onto a long platform decorated at each end with beds of flowers. In
front of the platform and a meter below it, two parallel strips of metal curved
away into the distance.

“I wonder what those are”
Aiyana said.

“Primitive
superconducting cables” Carson replied.

“The train will be here
in five minutes” said Carruthers. “I will make my farewells now – I have to return
to the airport. Pleasure to meet you Mr. Carson, Mrs. Carson. I wish you a safe
journey home.”

“In other words, leave my
planet as soon as you can” Carson said to Aiyana as the official hurried off.

“Oh, he was just shy.” She
peered into the sky searching for the train. “It’s so
quiet
here! No
chatter on the net, no valet service, and those advertisements – they just sit
there.”

But the next moment the
silence was broken by an amplified voice announcing the train’s imminent
arrival. They both stared upwards, squinting against the sunlight.

“Still can’t –” Aiyana
was cut off by a shrill whistle that roused their fellow passengers from the
benches on the platform. A column of smoke appeared in the distance. Moments
later they saw a huge black whale of an object following the path of the twin
metal strips. Behind it was a set of red boxy containers. As the extraordinary
procession came closer it became apparent that the entire assemblage was
running on wheels. The cavalcade slowly lost velocity and finally came to an
asthmatic halt in front of the platform where they stood. The voice announced
the arrival of the morning train to Wurlington with stops at Balcombe, Crouch
End, and Flitwick.

“Oh my God” Carson yelled as he rushed forward to get a closer look.

He caught the eye of a
man who was presumably the pilot leaning out of the lead vehicle’s cabin.
“What’s the power source?” Carson asked him “One liter flat four?” The man
laughed but did not reply.

Aiyana pressed her hands
against the huge cylinder.

“Oh, it’s hot! I think
there’s some form of combustion taking place.”

The pilot showed more
interest in Aiyana than he had in Carson.

“Bless you, Miss, you
carry on like you’ve never seen a steam engine before.”

“I haven’t” she said
beaming. “I think it’s wonderful! And those steel wheels, it’s all so
manly!

She definitely had his attention
now.

“Would you like to ride
in the cabin with me and Alf?”

“Would I!” Aiyana cried
and went to mount the metal steps. This caused much hilarity.

“Sorry Miss, I was just
joking. Hurry up and get into a carriage, we’re leaving in a couple of minutes.”

She waved goodbye and
followed Carson into the first
carriage
.

“That is an amazing piece
of early engineering” she said as they sat down.

“It is” Carson agreed. He
was already thinking about what he could trade for it, and how the hell he
would transport it to New Earth.

“Why were their faces and
hands painted black?” Aiyana asked.

“It’s a symbolic expression of brotherhood with the machine.”

“How do you know all this
stuff?”

The train lurched,
lurched again, and then they were off following the path of the metal strips. They
soon left the town and puffed through the countryside parallel to a fast-moving
river. Once she discovered that the windows of the carriage could be opened
Aiyana leaned out to get a better view.

“Darling, there is a
notice here expressly forbidding hanging out of the window while the train is
in motion.”

“Why is that?” She grew
more excited “do you think we’ll be going underwater?”

But they stayed on dry
land, passing woodlands, meadows, farms and an occasional village. After a
while the tone of the steam engine became stronger and the air flowing through
the open window colder – they were gaining altitude – and in the distance they
saw mountain peaks. Half an hour later they arrived in the small town of Balcombe. More passengers climbed in then they were off again, the metal wheels squealing
as they descended once more to sea level. Following two more stops they entered
the outskirts of a large city. Finally, three hours after leaving Ferndale, they arrived at Wurlington’s main station.

 

 

The terminus was a
smoke-blackened semi-cylinder of steel and glass that spanned a dozen railway tracks (“superconducting cables – hah!” said Aiyana punching Carson’s arm). As they passed the front
of their train the engineer pulled a lever that sent a shrill column of steam
up to the roof.

“Come and see us again
darling” he called out as they passed.

“I think he’s talking to
you” said Carson.

They hurried on to a line
of taxis – wheeled vehicles similar to the one at the airport – and asked for
the New Earth Consulate. Their driver was not shy.

“Where you from then? New
Earth? Good grief I do get all sorts in this cab! Mailman are you? Who would
want a letter from Outside? Let everyone mind their own business is what I say;
no offense to you and your lady wife.”

When the reached the
Consulate, an elegant row house in the center of the city, Carson presented the
taxi driver with his travel warrant.

“Oh Lord, that’s only
good for trains. Don’t you have any real money?”

“I’m sorry, no. But I can
offer you these.” Carson held out a handful of gold coins.

“Oh dear, sir” the driver
said “one of those is more than enough.”

Carson insisted he take
two. In fact he felt something of a fraud. While they were indeed gold in the
sense that they were made of atoms of the seventy-ninth element, he had
purchased a kilo of the metal for a hundred Ecus in an industrial arcology
orbiting New Mars. Long ago he discovered that gold was more acceptable when
fashioned into coins, and had created handsome examples with a relief of the ship on one side and his face in profile on the other. Using synthetic bullion in a primitive
culture was ethically dubious and he kept the coins strictly for emergencies. He
resolved to get his hands on some local currency as soon as possible.

Renshu, the Consul, was
overjoyed to see them. “You cannot believe how good that feels” he said as they
touched palms. Like many of the Falk men he wore a neatly-clipped moustache. His
clothes too reflected the local style; Carson suspected he had gone native.

They met in the Consul’s
office at the rear of the row house. The room was elegantly appointed with
local furniture and large windows overlooking a private garden. It was an
unexpected oasis of tranquility in the bustling metropolis. The posting may
have been lonely but it was not uncomfortable.

“And you have brought
mail!”

“Yes, can you tell me how
I contact the Postmaster?”

“My dear boy, you’re
looking at him! And the cultural attaché, and the diplomatic affairs officer,
and anything else you care to name. As far as I know I’m the only Outsider on
the planet.”

He took them down to the
basement where they found a dusty mail console. On the other side of the room
was a medical tank. “Only one on Falk – if you ever get injured drag yourself to
the Consulate.”

“The locals are that set
against modern technology?”

“They abhor it – that’s
why I hide everything down here.”

He loaded Carson’s mail packet into the console.

“As I expected: not a
large yield. Thirty thousand items, and half of them for me!”

“How do you distribute
the rest?” Aiyana asked. “There’s no local net.”

“Hard copy” said Renshu
nodding at a printer. “We print them out. The identity of the final location is written on the front of an envelope, the correspondence placed inside, and it is
physically carried to the recipient.”

BOOK: Swallow the Sky: A Space Opera
3.89Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

Besieged by Rowena Cory Daniells
Water Song by Suzanne Weyn
Emma Blooms At Last by Naomi King
Wild Thing by Dandi Daley Mackall
Emma's Treasures by Rebecca Joyce
Boda de ultratumba by Curtis Garland
Apprehension by Yvette Hines
Swamp Foetus by Poppy Z. Brite