Pops stepped out on the Veranda and squinted briefly up the hill towards the fields of Gold, and imagined he could see the beginnings of a purple tinge to the upper leaves, as the glistening tops strained towards the twin suns of the 49 system.
A good example of the bicameral nature of the universe, thought Pops. The plants craved the solar rays, and at the same time had to shield themselves from the rays, or wither from the intense heat. And due to this dichotomy, a complex molecule was produced. A molecule which had the unique ability to change the primate brain function for brief periods.
Pops took an old, curved meerschaum replica from the pocket of his ratty farm coveralls, clamped it between his teeth, and headed for his favorite rocker.
He began to read from the flimsy which had emerged from his comms unit just moments ago from Malaclypse; who was still somewhere out in Baffin where he had been for almost a week now.
Reggie,
I continue to be amazed by what I am seeing here. It is still too early to share with anyone until we have a final report from the CRI blokes, and do a thorough review of the data.
Pops shook his head. Only Mal could make a blunder like leaving a line out while in space, and end up snagging something which could set the entire Sirius Sector on its collective ear. This is right out of science fiction, thought Pops. A saga to rival Niven or Varley.
Meanwhile, CRI has sent me some interim findings on the scrubber. It now appears that scrubbing space of anything remotely digestible is the least of the creatures properties. Theyve discovered that immediately after eating a sufficient quantity, its body temperature drops sharply. They were stumped by this, until they found that the ambient temperature of the air surrounding the creature also experienced a dramatic increase in temp. Of course this wasnt discovered until they took the creature and placed it in a thin, rudimentary, primitive atmosphere. Before that, they suspected it was mere bioluminescence, and had not a clue it was thermal radiation from the exothermic process!
The thing seemed to thrive in that soup! ..and.. Process it. And there are even traces of base nucleotides.. The basis of all DNA, including ours! The mixture of byproduct gases runs out to roughly 78%.
Pops read on for a very long time, with the help of regular puffs from the old meerschaum. Eventually, he let the flimsy drop from his hands to his lap, and stared off again at the ripening fields of psychotropic sacrament.
Goddess, you shall have your fill of Chaos when this becomes known. The markets! The monopolies shattering! Crumbling finances for the war effort. Well have to be ready to respond to every sort of crisis imaginable!
But then a smile escaped Pops weathered face..
Mal, you may be a Fool, but you are Eris lucky Fool. First you stumble across the seeds and soil to produce these fields, which can be used to create mental freedom and knowledge of the Fnords. And now you have also stumbled across a dumb, heretofore unknown space fish, a distant ancestor perhaps of the feared Nomads we know today; but which may very well be used to create habitable worlds.. To create Life itself.
Thank you for the unexpected gift of the beautiful runabout! I promise to keep the [FSFP]Flaxrunner in the same excellent condition as the day I received it.
I am sorry that your tenure with 1st Flax had to end so abruptly. You held promise. An emerging Pineal can sometimes be a contrary critter, offering more "tricks" than truths.
I truly hope that the Coronas at Cabo are just as excellent as the ones served at Arecibo.
I'll be putting feelers out this week to see about some of our operational supply issues. I would like to clarify our shopping list before I depart though.
I know we need engine parts, but what else? I imagine we will need piles of Dueterium as well for fuel...
Perhaps we can kill to birds with one stone. I'm getting haggled by the Liberty police to help them ship prisoners down to Vierlande-would be a good chance to bring cheap parts back up.
We need to deside on a warehousing location as well.
The ever-increasing tilt of Gran Canaria's axis towards north polar maximum had put the smell of fall in the air.
And the smell from the Fields of Gold was overpowering. The fields had not been watered for a week; forcing the sacred plants to produce even more of the potent resin to protect their sun-baked leaves.
Squads of harvest bots roved the fields, cutting the tall plants and placing them on motorized carts for transport to the drying sheds.
There, the plants would be hung from the huge pithy stems, forcing the last of the alkaloids to obey the will of gravity and inhabit the leaves and purple buds of the plants.
An air of silence permeated the busy hum of the bots, and seemed to blanket the nearby Villa as well.
On the veranda, dust covered the decking, unmarred by footprints or other signs of habitation.
Between two large wooden rocking chairs, a small table sat.
On the table sat two glasses, with dessicated sprigs of mint at the bottoms.
A slight breeze, wafting the pungent odor of the fields up to the veranda, suddenly gusted sharply.
The gust caught the two rocking chairs, causing them to rock slowy back and forth..
..as if beckoning to absent but expected friends, to return and be comfortable again.
The figure moved slowly across the veranda, from the direction of the drying sheds. The boots leaving fresh
prints in the dust.
A hand reached down for one of the flowerpots next to the french doors and moved it gently to retrieve a key
hidden underneath.
The doors slid slowly open, and the figure headed for the large beer fridge deep into the corner of the room.
The cooler opened and a couple of cold ones slipped out and into pockets. He turned back to the veranda ...
Dust carefully knocked off the chair and table, the man sat and popped a bottle, put his feet up on the
furniture. His head moved back and he tilted his hat forwards, and took a long drink.
Time to chill and watch the sun go down ...
A small pipe appeared and the kallisti was loaded
"Ah well." He said to no one in particular. "Shame to see all this go to waste, what can you do though."
"Good old Eris, always gets her way in the end."
The lighter flared and a large cloud of smoke drifted away on the breeze ...
Some say he is a proud member of: "The most paranoid group of people in the Community."
The Outcast Destroyer edged slowly between the huge doors built into the hillside.
On the command deck of the Destroyer, a four armed maintenance droid controlled the ship, beeping and whistling to itself as the ship entered the hangar bay. Through the screens, an automated repair facility could be seen working on a Large Train to one side of the hangar.
A scarred, tough looking man, wearing an Armed Forces style flightsuit watched the droid expertly control the landing of the fully automated cruiser.
As the droid brings the ship in to a soft landing next to the large train, it swivels it's sensors towards the observer and starts beeping and whistling.
The man's grey eyes read the translation on a nearby screen and he shakes his head at the colourful language before replying.
"Watch it you little scumbag...that kind of talk is likely to get you vaporised if you don't watch it."
The droid beeps and whistles again.
"Er... right. I'll be getting my bag."
He turns to leave, looking over his shoulder at the still beeping droid as it makes obscure gestures at him with two of it's arms.
As he disembarks from the Destroyer he is met by a dark haired man who smiles in greeting.
"Ah, you must be Lieutenant Harris. Welcome to Gran Canaria."
"Thanks. Call me Spike. Alan Kell right?"
"Call me Al. Come this way and we'll see if there's anyone who can help with your expedition."
As they leave the hangar Alan gestures to a wooded valley.
"Down that way is a creek if you want to try some fishing. The local lakes and rivers have been populated with various species."
"Sounds interesting. Might take you up on that."
"I heard rumours of some attacks on various planets. It must feel bad when they get past the defenses."
Spike Harris looks down. "I...I'd rather not talk about that thanks."
"Oh...right. sorry to mention it."
They walk in silence for a moment, before Spike looks up and speaks again.
"It can get tough out there."
"Well anyway, how's the ship charter going so far? Any problems since pickup on Pittsburgh?"
"The ship seems fine. Flew here through some hostile systems no problem. Wish we had something like that in the Armed Forces actually. Slides between asteroids really nice."
"Yes, I was rather lucky on getting the YTC. I'll have to tell you how I came by it sometime. I think the Liberty Rogues and Outcasts are still a bit miffed at losing it.
I'd like to enter it in an upcoming race meeting but it's unlikely to be eligible.
XM giving you any problems?"
"The robot? It seems a little...well...unstable."
"Ah yes...XM seems to work far better at piloting and maintenance work like that. It got itself shot a few times after some misplaced comments so I had to install the swear filter. I've tried reprogramming it not to swear but it just doesn't work as efficiently like that."
He gestures at his glasses. "These have a built in translation unit now so I can understand what it's saying. As you've probably noticed, the swear filter seems to pick up on almost everything the droid says as requiring filtering. Maybe trying to reprogram it made it develop a worse glitch. At least it's not getting shot all the time now anyway. That got to be a little expensive."
"Wouldn't mind blasting the little creep myself after reading some of those comments."
Annoyed sounding beeping comes from behind them.
"Ah, it appears XM has followed us in the hopes of an upgrade...or something. I'm not sure if it's possible for a maintenance droid to have emotions, although the comments it makes seems to suggest that's the case... there's a rather intriguing droid around here that uses some kind of antigrav unit to get around."
Alan grins and glances at the droid.
"If XM were human I'd say it had a crush."
A long series of beeps follow with wild gestures from all four arms.
"You want to do what? Maintainance on the hydraulic system and power couplings? well...er...
...anyway, here we are...Veranda Incognita.
Hopefully we'll be able to find some help to get you started on your fishing expedition, perhaps with recommended systems to visit and how to go about it.
They have a rather sophisticated defense system here. I'll just do the eyescan...there we go."
Spike Harris glances around.
"Nice place."
"Isn't it just. We might as well go around the front and enjoy the view for a while I suppose."
High above Gran Canaria, a Kusari Battleship lumbered into view, eclipsing the moon. From it, a single landing ship, elegant and beautiful, launched, and began the decent planetwards.
The Kusari Craft, built in the traditional dragon-esque theme that all of its kin had, was made of a material akin to ivory in color. The ship gracefully landed on the planet's surface, not 50 yards from the Veranda.
With a hydraulic hiss, the doors opened, and from it came a woman dressed in a flowing gown. It shimmered in the light, the silk it was woven from gently fluttering in the breeze. As the woman descended the ramp, the gown scraped the planet, trailing out behind her.
As she approached the gate of the Veranda, the metallic voice of the sentry sounded.
"Halt, intruder! This is the private property of the Warbucks LLC! Do not trespass! Trespassers will be dealt with swiftly!"
The woman looked at the sentry, its mechanical head swiveling to see her. She went to the retinal scan, and allowed the device to search for her identity. After a few seconds, it had found what it was looking for.
"Welcome! Mr. Warbucks has been expecting you! Please feel free to peruse the Veranda and its fine ventures. However, Mr. Warbucks requests that all visitors remain away from the drying stations. Also, Mr. Warbucks has informed me that there are currently seventeen thousand, six hundred fifty nine hot dogs prepared, so please enjoy."
Nodding, the woman entered the gateway into the courtyard.
"Amazing... so much good and evil in a single plant. And the dichotomy is only paralleled by the aroma! My my, I feel lightheaded already... I must speak to Pops about that," she said, looking over the fields. Her eyes traveled across the entire Kalisti fields, and she continued on to the mountain range far away in the distance... perhaps she would go there someday.
"But not today. I am here on official business. Yes! Can't get dragged into this! Not someone of my stature! Certainly not!" But deep within her soul, she knew that she would stay here for a while. No one would miss her; not after that disastrous and futile attempt. No, she would stay here and enjoy every moment of it.
As she walked on the Veranda's patio, her gown's tail swept the dust up, leaving a trail from the stairs to the chair she now sat in. Slowly, she raised the glass of julips up, and gave it a tentative sip. Deciding Pops hadn't spiked it with Kalisti Gold, she sipped some more.
And she waited there, on the patio of the Veranda, the fragrance of the fields washed over here, and she felt truly relaxed for the first time in weeks. Raising her glass, she said, "to the Prettiest!" and settled into the wicker chair.
Pops was seated with Alan and Spike at the rear of the Villa, where they had been eating their nth hot dog, and were starting to wish for some of the tasty trout that inhabited Arts small brook, up and over the small ridge above the fields.
Pops received a tickle from the implant behind his right ear. The laser defenses had gone to code Boo!, and had immediately de-activated when the retinal pattern offered to the scanner was found acceptable.
Pops broke into a broad grin. And very acceptable indeed! he mused to himself. Even though our guest has a strange idea of what being right down means, she has finally arrived to visit, and to shed some woes, I should hope.
Gentlemen. Pops nodded towards his friends. I shall take you up on that fishing jaunt in the morning. Eris can keep her bloody dogs! Im glad Mals mysterious cohort Fin decided to take five dozen along.
However, I have another belated guest to greet. Ill put lasers into down boy! on the way inside. And take some of those bloody dogs as well!
Pops walked across the rear veranda and into the kitchen. Almost as an afterthought, he clicked on another implant embedded in a rear molar, and whispered white tornado. As commanded, dozens of house bots immediately began to scurry about in a gargantuan effort to return the Villa to something approaching the female standard of sensibilities.
Pops walked briskly through the Villa, only to slow and quiet his steps near the screened front entrance. He stopped, and quietly peered through the screen onto the veranda.
Only the second time he had actually seen the deLuna woman in the flesh, and weeks since the first time. So much had happened since then. And, much more to come.
Pops saw the exhaustion in Fionas face. He noticed once again the distinct Rheinlandic features to her face; the strength of them somehow gentled by her rather wistful look, and her tendency to break into a smile unexpectedly.
Well, Madam Ambassador, you have come a long way in a short time. You have learned the truth of our existence here in this new home for humanity. We have brought our bad habits with us, as well as our good intentions. I am sorry the process you envisioned has not been met with more satisfying results.
And, my dear lady. You are a woman of other secrets as well. Secrets only hinted at, but soon to become known. I pray we all have the strength to follow those secrets to their end.
Pops almost stepped through the screened door; but, he noticed that Fiona deLunas face had relaxed, and that her eyes had closed. Her chest rose and fell as gently as the pungent breezes which stirred her silken gown.
Pops turned away from the entry, and went to see how his house bots were faring.
Rick found himself aimlessly wandering in the white clouds of Omega 49. He still haven't discoveded a place to rest since that tragic event with the pooch he once lost, then it looked like he found him again and now he's probably lost forever. Combined with the recent rumours that his employing company is standing on the edge of bankruptcy again he had no reason to feel in different way than he did.
He stopped and looked at Planet Grand Canaria. There was a Kusari Battleship parking at the planet's orbit but he didn't pay it much attention. So beautiful those green fields, blue oceans and white clouds are. Even a moment of observing such a scenery helped Rick to feel a bit better. Suddenly his brow wrinkled. Long time ago he met a man who was so truly speaking about his plantages on this planet. He was also a patron to a certain faction Rick once entrusted his pooch to. Rick promised that old guy to pay him a visit on his Veranda once. To see his plantages, do some fishing, eat some hot-dogs, drink some julip liqeur and talk about old times. And it looks like the time of keeping promises has come.
Rick searched his ship database for the Veranda coordinates and started the automated landing sequence. On the way down he was again enjoying the astonishing scenery. There was something that hooked his sight. There was a strange ship parking nearby the veranda entrance. Rick remembered the battleship at the orbit and mumbled: "Hope you're not in trouble old chap".
He left his Large train when the landing was over and headed towards the Veranda entrance. One could say it didn't look very friendly. Very massive lasers awaked from the suspend mode and followed him to the communication panel. Rick proceeded a retinal scan and after it was finished there appeared red blinking message on the display: "No matches found! Contacting the owner...".
Rick looked into the laser's barrels and started to doubt if the whole idea wasn't just a big mistake. Finally a familiar face appeared on the display.
"Mr. Waverly I don't know if you reme.."
"Rick! Sorry for the entrance annoyance but one has to be careful these days. You look hungry..umm...and you look worried. We'll work on that later but for now proceed to the bar and enjoy some of our delicious hot-dogs. I'll join you later and you might be surprised by the pleasant company I have."
Rick tried to say his thanks but the display was already black, the lasers were suspended and the door opened. He went in. The plantages were large, the plants were bending in the fresh breeze and the birds were singing. Rick's face started to relax as he was walking towards the Villa.
He entered the door which was leading into a bar and took a tall bar chair. The bar-bot looked at him and a pleasant voice asked: "Sir, would you like a hot-dog? They're hot, they're delicious ... and our stock is nearly undepletable".
Rick smiled again looked back at the bot and said: "Make it four, Milady. And bring me a beer, please."
The bot went on to fulfill his order and Rick stretched himself, looked around and whispered: "What a sweet place this Pops has."
Slowly, her eyes opening and allowing the orange light of the Gran Canaria dawn to illuminate them, Fiona woke up. The sunlight, reflecting off the atmosphere, glowed a dazzling amber, which did nothing but accentuate the natural beauty of the fields of Gold. Even the mountain range she had noted before looked better, the trees there catching the light and converting it to precious glucose.
She turned in the comfortable wicker chair, and saw that the second glass of julips had been sipped from, even if the ice had melted. And much to Fiona's surprise, the dust from the floor was all gone, as if it had been recently swept. In the background, she even heard some of Canaria's prized birds, the Guaugalucas, chirping. It was truly a moment to be cherished.
Sitting in the chair, she peered over the surroundings once more. There was a lake nearby that she could see the sun reflecting off of, shimmering and sparkling gracefully. The robots that Pops had employed to work on his fields had a shiny coating on them, which gave them a luminescent quality. And the patio she had fallen asleep on was radiant, the fire-hardened oak floor lighting up and giving off its brilliant scent. Feeling as if the weight of the world that had been placed there by her obligations and position was suddenly lifted, Fiona began to stand up.
Oddly, it was difficult. Smiling, she realized that the crew aboard the Battleship high above in orbit would be worried about her. Using a small hand held device, she sent a message to them. "I will be staying here for a while. I'll be fine, so don't worry about me. Return in one week." Finally making it to her feet, Fiona dusted off her dress and slowly made her way into the Veranda.
If the outside was beautiful, then the interior was an ambrosia for the senses. Pops had spared no expense in making the Veranda Incognita, and the fruits of his labors were expressed in each room Fiona wandered through. The first, which she assumed to be a sun room, had elegant windows that repelled UV light and shined a shade of scarlet. There were white tanning chairs within this room as well, and Fiona guessed that if she wanted to, she could sit in one of those chairs and nap all day long without worrying about getting sunburned.
The second, a kitchen, still had evidence of a recent tidying-up. The cleaning robots still scurried about, and a machine kept placing hot dogs onto a conveyor belt, which led into another room. There was a mahogany table in the kitchen, and the ten legs it had to support it were carved with claws and whirls. Simply looking at it gave Fiona the impression of beauty, horror, and wonderment at the same time. Tracing one finger over its surface, and noting that there was a fine layer of dust between the wood and her hand, Fiona decided to try and continue on through the Veranda.
However, she next came into a room that was the exact opposite. Inside was a modern, space-age bar, complete with the perpetual cloud of smoke that covers up the ceiling and gives you the impression of being in a burning building. A man sat at the bar proper, munching on four large hot dogs and draining a Rheinland-sized mug of beer, and payed no attention to her; Fiona suspected that he did not even notice her arrival, as she barely made any sound and the bar had a din of noise about it as all of its ilk did.
Making her way towards the bar, she tripped over a well-concealed step, falling flat on her face. Laughing, she stood up and brushed herself off. As she assessed that there was nothing torn on her gown, she looked at the man at the bar. He no longer was eating, but now had a gun raised in his hand, staring directly at her.
Fiona gulped, and slowly raised her hands in the universal sign of peace. "I am just a friend of Pops, good sir. I don't want any trouble... I'm sure that violence is condoned in this most magnificent house. Perhaps I could buy you a beer? To make up for interrupting your solitude?" Her earrings made musical notes as her head shook, each being a miniature version of a wind-chime, and the effect was vaguely relaxing. Or would have been, if not for the condition Fiona found herself in.
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