Pilgrims Page 5

  “That’s all?” Utz’s disappointment was obvious. “What about Tokyo? Or Cape Town? Or Jerusalem?”

  Jake shook his head. “Those were all the way around the world from where I was. It would’ve taken days to travel to any of them. And lots of money.” He hesitated. “Utz. Isn’t that a family name from way back?”

  “Of course, you would know that bit of history,” Utz said with amusement. “I’m supposed to be just like my great-grandfather.”

  The Bo-See Coalition was ruled by a monarchy. Succession wasn’t a strict inheritance from father to child; instead, within the ruling clan, they fought for the throne, sometimes brutal violent fights. When the Seehafer and Boadan families cross-married over 100 years ago, one ruler could claim the throne through both families, and he named it the Bo-See Coalition after the two families. That ruler, Utz Seehafer, had a Boada mother, Didi Feeney Boada, and a Seehafer father, Hedley Seehafer. It was whispered that Hedley had won Didi in a game of chance, but she’d slit the throat of any who dared repeat that tale. The original Utz’s legacy was to unite the two sides of the throne and bring a reign of peace that lasted over 100 years. That was until five years ago when the threat of planetary extinction brought violence back to the forefront.

  In those explosive five years, three rulers had been called out and forced to battle—and had lost their lives. The current ruler was Pharomond Seehafer who was both tall and broad, almost a giant. He terrified everyone and had already fought off two challenges to his rule.

  Of course, Jake knew the bit of history about Utz’s name. He was a Quad-de.

  “We are honored that King Seehafer has come to this council,” Jake said formally. “Your presence is also appreciated.”

  “Do you really think this Earth doctor can find a cure for the illness caused by the umjaadi?”

  The question didn’t surprise Jake. Surely the Seehafers would have spies everywhere and knew what was going on. In the last twenty years, they’d lost the political advantage because they didn’t support technology, including spaceships. If not for the Quad-de family pouring their fortunes into spaceships and the Moon Base, Risonians wouldn’t even have that limited option for saving a fragment of their world. Most of those on the Cadee Moon Base were Tizzalurian, although Swann had tried to bring the best of other countries—space was just too limited. And prejudices limited others from accepting Tizzalurian help.

  “Dr. Mangot is a Phoke doctor, not a human. It’s only the Phoke who are affected, but they control the seas, and therefore, we must gain their trust. It’s crucial that she gets what she needs,” Jake said. And silently, he added, she must cure Em. Sometimes, when he was alone, he pulled out his smart phone from Earth and flipped through pictures of Em, or he watched a video of her winning a swim meet.

  Utz took the last piece of cheese and golden wolkev from Jake’s tray. “You know, they won’t go for it. Too much to swallow.”

  Jake stared at him in dismay. A dozen replies came to mind, but he rebutted each himself. In the face of extinction, the only thing the Bo-See had left was dignity. And the ability to play one last card. Did the Bo-See realize what their refusal would mean?

  “And if it was you who decided,” Jake said softly, “would you let our doctor in your waters?”

  Utz took a step closer and spoke softer. “Let me ask you a question. On Earth, how will the alliances go? Will Phoke and Risonians be united because they are both water creatures? Or will the Phoke and humans be allies?”

  “That’s the burning question of the hour,” Jake said. “No one knows how it will turn out. But of course, Dr. Mangot’s research will help determine that.”

  Utz nodded slowly. Even softer, he asked, “And when Risonians reach Earth, will they scatter across the planet? Or will the Bo-See and Tizzalurians remain united against Earth?”

  Jake sucked in a breath. “You’re going to Earth?”

  Utz gave a curt nod and watched Jake work it out. If the Bo-See’s prince went to Earth, he’d be a natural leader of that Risonian faction. And if Jake’s mother—and maybe eventually Jake himself—led the Tizzalurians, then they needed to be allies. Risonians needed a united front.

  “Does your father know?”

  “Not yet. I’ll find a time to tell him soon.”

  “And what do you want from me?”

  “A promise that you’ll listen, that you’ll always remember that we are the same species,” Utz said. Passion filled his voice and made Jake step back slightly to think.

  It wouldn’t be a binding alliance, not without hashing out details. There would be many, many details once they reached Earth. But Utz was right; they were the same species, with the same needs. Somehow, they needed a united front against the humans and Phoke.

  “We’ll be united,” Jake said. “But I think we need the Phoke, and Dr. Mangot is one of their senior leaders. What if, despite what the council decides, we go to the southern seas?”

  “That would not be wise,” came the flat answer.

  Utz’s body language shifted, and he seemed to tower over Jake. Utz wasn’t taller, but certainly broader, and his arms came far down his leg and would have a long reach. Jake didn’t want to face him in a street fight or on the fight floor.

  Jake sighed in exasperation. It was clear that the Bo-See and Tizzalura should remain allies. But Utz wanted allies when he wasn’t willing to give something in return. I’m not good at politics, Jake thought with disgust

  “Excuse me,” Jake said abruptly. “I must fill up my tray and play the host.”

  “Of course.” Utz waved a path toward the kitchen.

  Jake was glad to escape and decided that he didn’t want to ever spar with Utz, not even verbal sparring. But clearly, everything had changed in their relationship, and they were reluctant allies. Now they just needed to figure out how not to kill each other.

  That night, after the party for officials, Jake returned to find the Earth team gathered in Swann’s study room, the one with steps down into the water. Dr. Mangot walked along the bookshelves studying them and occasionally touching one or another. Captain Bulmer and Blake were seated in chairs that automatically adjusted to their body-shape. The chairs were so comfortable that a person was tempted to try to read everything in Swann’s library at one seating. Books had evolved since the Risonians had met Earth, with its historical passion for print books. Earthlings had had access to digital books for forty years, but still the print books still ruled.

  Rison, of course, had gone to electronic books and documents long ago, except for ceremonial things like birth and marriage documents. But after Rison met Earth, there had been a slow retro-print movement. The Quad-de estate was old enough to have seen print books, moved to electronic books and was now back to print. The library held storage banks of electronic data, along with old and antique versions of digital readers to be able to access even the oldest of digital documents. However, it also had shelves for print books. Swann’s father had even collected some print books—through smugglers—from Earth.

  “We must talk about what to do next,” Jake said.

  Dr. Mangot sat in a chair right beside the water, and her bare feet splashed playfully. “I’m worried about Risonians coming to Earth. We don’t know how their body’s chemistry will affect Earth’s environment.”

  Blake leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “If we allow Risonians to evacuate to Earth, it’s the lesson of the book and movie, Jurrasic Park: life will escape! You may try to quarantine everyone who’s ever swum in the Risonian seas, but you can’t do it. Cross-contamination will eventually happen. It will force an eco-system upheaval that combines Earth and Risonian systems into something new and different. Earth—as we know it—will die. But it’s already happening because of Seastead. Our fate is now tied to that of Rison.”

  Captain Bulmer said, “You’re right. However, on Earth, ecologically, I don’t think we’re at the point of no return. No one knows. But it’s certain that if thousands of Risonians
evacuate to Earth, it will soon reach that point.”

  “But I swam in the oceans,” Jake said. “And Mom swam in the oceans.”

  “Hmm,” Dr. Mangot turned to look at him. “That means you are both living petri dishes of organisms that live on Earth and on Rison.”

  Jake waded into the water and went down a step. Bending to splash his knees, he said, “I get what you’re saying. Once we swam in Earth’s oceans, we were contaminated by the water in which we swam. Mom is an example of a Risonian who has swum in both.” Straightening, he shook his head, “But what we really need is a Phoke who has swum in both.”

  Dr. Mangot stared at him. “Say that again.”

  “What? That we need a Phoke who has swum in both?”

  “Yes. As soon as I swim here on Rison, I’ll have to be quarantined, too.” The color drained out of her face. She pulled her legs up out of the water and hugged her knees to her chest. “I’ll be contaminated. But I can’t find the umjaadi and understand it without swimming.”

  “Wait,” Blake said. “You mean that if you swim here, you won’t swim again on Earth for—well, till you find a cure, even if it takes years?”

  Captain Bulmer stepped forward and put a hand on Dr. Mangot’s shoulder. “Bea, you don’t have to do it. I can.”

  She looked up at him with gratitude. “I know you’d spare me. But I have to do this.”

  “It’ll kill you to never go back to Aberforth Hills.”

  “It’s not forever. It’s just for a time, while we do the research.”

  Captain Bulmer bent to consider her face. “Bea, it might be forever. You must weigh the odds. Are you willing to take the risk of never seeing Aberforth Hills again?”

  Dr. Mangot spun toward Swann’s empty desk and then turned back to the water in front of her, as if looking for a way out. “What if I wore eye goggles and kept my mouth shut?”

  She looked from one to another, but each person turned away.

  “Aberforth Hills,” she moaned softly to herself. “I’ve always put you first.”

  “Bea, you don’t have to do this. Let me do it,” Captain Bulmer repeated softly.

  “Don’t you see? I’ve never had my own life; it’s always been at the beck and call of Aberforth Hills. She has my loyalty and always will. But if I do this, if I dive into this water—” she waved at the waves lapping at the steps and shook her head. “I may never see her again.” She was bent over in despair.

  Blake stepped forward, took Dr. Mangot’s hands and pulled her upright. They stared at each other, tears running down Dr. Mangot’s cheeks.

  Blake said, “These are desperate times for many of us. And I suspect we’ll do even more desperate things than this before it’s all over. Yours isn’t the first or the last of the tragic lives that will result from the destruction of Rison.”

  Dr. Mangot stood even taller, her determination growing before their eyes. “Come,” she said harshly, “Let’s go swimming.”

  The room was silent, and then Blake nodded, followed by Captain Bulmer. It was decided.

  Jake waved toward the far corner and said, “There are spare bathing suits in the changing rooms. Blake, will you swim, too? Do you need to get your scuba gear?”

  About ten minutes later, everyone was lined up on the steps.

  Dr. Mangot wore a black one-piece suit, showing her age with her stocky figure. Blake wore swimming trunks, along with his scuba tank, mask and breathing regulator. Captain Bulmer wore swimming trunks like Blake’s.

  Jake handed out slates and writing tools so they could communicate underwater. “I’ll take us on a tour of the house and then out for a quick swim in the deeper water. Thirty minutes and we’ll be back.”

  Everyone nodded.

  Jake motioned for them to enter the water, but no one took a step.

  With a sigh, Jake went down a couple steps and looked back at Blake. He held out his hand and when Blake took it, Jake jerked him hard, making him his fall forward. Blake roared up out of the water and leapt for Jake, submerging them both. They came up laughing.

  “Come on in!” Jake cried.

  Captain Bulmer and Dr. Mangot held hands and walked stoically down the steps. Dad stood up to adjust his face mask and breathing regulator, and then submerged again.

  It was done. Each person—human, Phoke, and half-Risonian-half-human—was a petri dish, a living laboratory of how Rison would interact with each species.

  One World, One Galaxy

  January 15

  United Nations, New York City, northern hemisphere of Earth

  On a calm, cold winter day, Colonel Lett and Colonel Barbena snapped to attention as Ambassador Dayexi Quad-de stepped out of her limousine. Wearing dress whites, the Risonian officers were far more than just ceremonial. They scanned the crowd for suspicious activity, and through earpieces, they constantly talked with United Nations’ security. Earth had a long history of dealing with difficult people by assassinating them. The Ambassador’s body guards took it seriously.

  “Barbarian,” Dayexi had told Colonel Lett. If an argument arose on Rison, the feuding parties would meet on the fight floor. Decisions would be finalized in a fair knife fight. What Earth called guerrilla warfare was unthinkable on Rison. It would be considered ultimate cowardice to assassinate a leader.

  Head high, very aware of the video cameras, the Ambassador Dayexi Quad-de—known across Earth as the Face of Rison—strode into the United Nations building, followed by her bodyguards. She wore a red pants suit that emphasized her slim figure and curly hair, and lent her an air of authority.

  Built in 2030, the new UN building was made of bullet-proof glass and reinforced steel that would resist anything short of a nuclear bomb. Its many layers of security made it as safe a place as possible for politicians from around the world.

  Everyone in the Assembly Room stood when she entered. The room was packed with shrewd representatives from virtually all the countries on Earth. From conservative black suits to colorful ethnic costumes, the diversity was astounding.

  I should be encouraged by the diversity, Dayexi thought. Instead, it made her think of the political struggles on Rison when such a group gathered. She’d have to be wary today. This would be a tough crowd to convince of anything.

  She paused, uncertain where to go, but an assistant was there to point the way to an aisle that led down to the front. The room shimmered with colored light from the stained-glass maps.

  Maps. Of the world. Of the oceans. Of the solar system. Of the Milky Way. Reproductions of ancient maps. Slick contemporary global maps.

  Dayexi had loved this room from the first time she came to speak on behalf of Rison. The maps spoke of how the different countries and societies were connected. That’s what she had to emphasize today.

  She climbed the steps to the podium and shook the Secretary General’s hand.

  Dayexi waved at the motto on the wall behind her. “One world. One galaxy.” She said, “That gives me hope.”

  “Hmmm,” replied the Secretary General.

  Dayexi understood. The building’s architect had etched the words in stone without asking permission. To remove it, they’d either have to grind down the stone or replace the stone. Neither was happening soon. She knew that most people hated the words. Still, they were there, and her speech would be given underneath that motto. She’d never met the architect, but she said blessings on his name.

  Looking out at the assembly, there were men and women of literally every size, shape and color. Career diplomats, they were among the most cynical of people. And this was it. News from Rison was grim; only days left before the planet died. The United Nations Assembly must give permission today to evacuate her people.

  Dayexi shivered. If she failed today, then she had failed her people.

  The Risonian International Council

  At the stroke of ten, the appointed time, Swann Quad-de, Prime Minister of Tizzalura, rose from his place at the conference tables. They were arranged in a square to av
oid the appearance that anyone actually led the council. Translators were stationed carefully so they could translate back and forth from Tizzalurian, Boadan, and other minor languages.

  Some members were still absent, but Prime Minister Quad-de always started on time. He began, “Esteemed leaders—”

  The musicians positioned in the room’s corner struck up the Risonian world song, a recent addition to the Council’s ceremony. No one knew the song, a mishmash of cultures and mangled words. Last year, Jake’s mother had insisted he learn the words, but he detested it. Still, he joined the throng and obediently stood while the music swirled.

  In the midst of it, His Majesty Pharomond Seehafer entered, along with his retinue. Colorful, flashy, barbaric—the Bo-See always went for a grand entrance. King Seehafer strode confidently toward the table, singing at full volume.

  Jake winced. He recognized now that the song sounded like a Bo-See ballad, a musical form that he didn’t like. It explained why Seehafer could sing it so lustily.

  Just as the song ended, Seehafer arrived at his chair, which was opposite Swann’s. Seehafer wore a sparkling diadem, and strapped to his waist was a huge golden thron, a hefty battle-axe. Some said it had been handed down to Bo-See leaders for a hundred years. Others believed it was wielded by the original Utz Seehafer himself. The king’s bodyguards drew out the heavy chair, and Seehafer sat. Tall, he was a head above everyone else except Swann. Clearly, this was a ruler to be respected.

  Swann crossed his arms, frowned, and nodded to Seehafer.

  King Seehafer crossed his arms, nodded back to Swann, and sat back with a wide grin. “Shall we begin? Meetings should always begin on time.”

  Swann motioned for the rest of the assembly to sit. His tight mouth told Jake that he was aggravated. Somehow, he managed to keep his voice calm and steady. “Esteemed leaders from around our world, we are here to consider weighty matters.”