Chameleon Ch 27

“When are you going to come down, then?”

“When someone can fly us down. I think people thought we must already be on the surface with you.”

“Can you transfer me to the bridge, Love?” Jackson waited while Rianya hailed the bridge to take his com.

“Bridge, Cerebrus here.”

“It’s Jackson. Have you flown a shuttle?”

“No, Captain, but I have piloted the star ship.”

“It’s not the same thing. Is May, Lee, or Rougeau there?”

“I’m here, Captain,” Jay May called to the bridge mic.

“May, I need you to bring Rianya and the girls down to the planet.”

“They’re still aboard, sir?”

“Yes. Don’t ask. The festival starts at dawn. I need her here.” Jackson had a cup of an anonymous plant brew like coffee, but more bitter. He took a drink, feeling the stimulant starting to kick in. His heart beat faster and as his cardiovascular system constricted, his blood pressure rose, his muscles twitched.

“I’ll have to leave Cerebrus alone on the bridge. There’s no one else aboard.”

“No one? Just the two of you?”

“I just relived Rougeau half an hour ago. And John Chin is still aboard, as is Quixote, of course.”

“Transfer me to engineering.” While he waited, he decided that whatever was in the drink was going to keep him awake for three or four days straight, so he pushed it away.

“Captain?”

“Quixote. Would you please report to the bridge and keep an eye on Cerebrus while Mr. May brings my family to the surface?”

“I will be there in five minutes.”

“How are things going along up there?”

“It’s rather quiet, in fact, quite so.”

“Did you want to attend the festival? I can come up for a little while if you like.”

“No, Captain, it’s not necessary. I will take shore leave at your convenience, not mine. I am not likely to blend in easily, there. All humanoids, you know?”

“I hear you. Thank you, Commander.”

Jackson returned the cup to the hotel's café and watched a flurry of people in the lobby preparing for the opening ceremony. In a few moments the electricity would be shut off for three days, and besides returning to the ‘wild’, the festival enforced the tradition of open flame cooking, ox-drawn cartage, walking, and other pre-industrial activities.

 “Would you like more breakfast, Mr. Captain?” Jackson was surprised to see a Pegasi woman behind words of hospitality. “We still have some honey bread, prairie fowl eggs, and fruit juice.”

“No, but thank you. Your English is very well spoken,” he said. A Cetian fellow approached, his brick colored complexion more on the dark side than light.

“Is Katida bothering you, Captain Jackson?” She ducked her head and swiftly returned to the kitchen.

“Not at all. She just offered me more breakfast.”

“Let me know if she makes you uncomfortable. Give them a job and they think they can do what they want.”

“No problem.”  The maroon fellow left Jackson alone at his table. Screams and shouts echoed in from the street, not terrorizing but of happiness and fun. Tau Ceti was about to rise. He walked to the pane-less windows and peered out at the dancing, jogging, skipping people headed for the town center.

Placing his hat squarely on his head, he strolled out, hands in pockets, heading for the landing plat. It was a good two kilometers east, and he’d still arrive before the shuttle, but the walk was worth the eventual wait. He immediately went back in time some eighteen or nineteen years.

He passed large smudge pots, filled with warm yellow firelight, surrounded by half a dozen Cetians all chatting, drinking, laughing, enjoying the camaraderie. He heard the slow clip-clop of a konji, harnessed to a two-wheeled cart made ebony-colored wood. The driver was on foot, not in the cart, perhaps driver was the wrong term. Leader was more accurate. It passed, leisurely, the cart loaded with a variety of food, including squash in shades of green and orange, large containers that sloshed with each step the konji took, and, a pile of large rodents and even larger birds, dead, but still fresh. Legs and tails draped over the end of the cart, slowly headed for the fair.

The dusty hardpan turned to coarse sand as he continued. To his right, the tracks of the electric omnibus led the way, sans vehicles of course. On his left, a row with dozens of shops and homes vanished in the distance. More people cavorted from the outskirts toward the central plaza. Ancient trees towered from behind the buildings, but had been removed on the right, apparently to make clearance for the omni.

The air was warm with no wind to chill his skin, and the sunlight grew intense in his eyes. The few clouds in the sky glowed like the petals of a sunflower, confirming that the day had arrived and the electric-free days had come. After a kilometer, Jackson stopped to listen to the sounds of Cetian life. Music, raw, acoustic music, drifted at least from town center to his ears, a kilometer or more to the north.

The notes were upbeat melodious, not flat, sharp, nor slow paced. The lack of woodwinds gave it a classically folksy flavor, something partly Irish and partly American. The instruments were stringed, no drums, winds, or brass, and were strummed and picked, not played with a bow. Bluegrass would be a fair replicate.

He could see the landing plat and the aviation building in the distance, growing larger with every step. Not a large structure, it was constructed of brick and mud, much like the homes and other buildings. The only modern construction was the reactor at the far north end of the city.

City might have been an understatement. Compared to the older parts of the settlement, Summertown was a bustling, thriving metropolis of multistory buildings, roads, omnibus tracks, electric transmission cables, and aliens. Aliens were the most significant change Jackson recognized, and not just humans. Pegasi and Kiians had the two largest populations, simply because they had the financial interest in the reactor.

Humans were the next group, protecting their own interests. With the Pegasi processing crystals with gamma rays from the reactor, and the Kiians providing the infrastructure, the Cetians received free electricity. The three main continents of Tau Ceti D each had its own interest in the reactor, wanting their own, but with so many factions arguing over the rights, humans had taken on a diplomatic role.

And then there were the mineral rights. The planet was a treasure trove of precious metals, gems, and rare elements that the people of Earth wanted, needed, and paid handsomely for. As Earth had nearly depleted all the gold it could mine, the value was ever increasing for use in medicine and space endeavors.

As Jackson approached the aviation building and landing plat, the late spring sun rays warmed his face, enough to pull his hat lower to shade his eyes. Music faded a little as he passed the hub, and smudge pots had gone out for the day. He heard bells ringing, oxen hooves clopping, people laughing; festival was an accurate description for the merriments and parties happening in the street.

Inside, the open windows encouraged the morning breeze that would clear the sky of dust and pollen. There were no lanterns, torches, or other illuminating appliances of any sort. He looked up at the ceiling to find skylights on the south side. The rays hadn’t gotten there just yet, but in a few hours, when the air traffic would be busiest, the skylights would be welcoming plenty of light.

A Cetian man greeted him at the door.

“How can I help you, mister…?”

“Jackson. Captain Jackson, we’ve been bringing cargo for the Earth settlement.”

“Ah, yes, I remember. That was a large quantity of items.” Jackson realized the fellow was having a little difficulty with his English.

“I’m waiting for passengers, no cargo.” The unusual amber eyes squinted for comprehension. “People.”

“Ah, the peoples. Yes. Enjoy your wait.” The man went back to his desk around the corner. Jackson sat on some rather comfortable furniture for a waiting room, somewhat low and overstuffed. The furnishings were decidedly Kiian.

He spent ten minutes watching the activity swirling around him. Someone pushed a cart loaded with beverages through the lounge, a woman with two small children dashed by, holding their hands as if they could shape shift away at any moment. And another Pegasi woman, accompanied by a Kiian male, crossed the room in front of him.

Pegasi women were equally as bald as males, but didn’t have tarry, black toxin glands on their temples. They were rather straight bodied, unlike humans, and Rianya, most of the time, with an hourglass shape. The two he’d seen had markings on their foreheads like Dukvita’s, but more ornate, he thought. Names? Tribes? Birth dates? No matter.

“Mr. Jack, your passengers are come,” the man said.

“Thank you,” he called, and moved to the window. In the sky, several kilometers distant, a shiny fleck reflected light rays as if it were blinking a landing code, or notifying the ground to be wary. The Osprey’s landing struts appeared slowly, and more like a helicopter than a fixed wing plane, it set down a couple hundred meters from the building with a sandy gust. He began walking to meet them partway.

“Papá!” Zalara shouted, galloping toward him before she jumped into his arms. Honey and Rianya walked behind.

“Hello, Cupcake.” He held her close to his body. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too. Mamá said we had to wait for everyone else and the stuff.”

“That’s true.” He pried her off and set her down. “Honey,” he leaned over and kissed the top of her head. “And my Lovely,” he said, and gave Rianya a kiss on her pink, smiling lips. “You look well.”

“It’s so pretty here! And warm, and real sunlight, and plants!”

“Do you want to rest before we go to the fair?”

“I’ve been resting for months! Let’s go!”