ch 12 | Dane

Paulo Dane left the club, smiling and greeting fans who recognised him, but moved as quickly as he could through the crowd. He walked about a block and climbed into a compact van parked on a cross street. He swiped his card through the keyslot and guided the noiseless vehicle through the darkened streets. The vehicle would be conspicuous, but not as conspicuous as his well known face on public transportation.

Almost an hour later, he pulled up to a storefront in an area of town near neither his residence nor the Jerusalem offices of the network. There was little artificial illumination, but little was needed; the Cityglow was brighter than a full moon. There had been no attempt to follow him, by a mortal anyway. He had no illusion about being able to hide from the Nobles, but they seemed, as always, oblivious to his after-hours activities. Still, it would not do to become careless. He parked and went inside. There was no AI to unlock the door for him; computer memories could be read; there was no lock on the door, anyway. The Blessed City was not a healthy place for thieves. Theft and violence were things the Nobles paid attention to, if the local authorities were unable to handle it. He made sure that he did nothing overtly illegal.

The shop was vacant, except for a desk and several chairs. Paulo dropped into the first one he came to and slumped bonelessly. It would be several hours before he would be in his bed, and the newsday started early.

"How did your interview go, Ser Paulo?"

Dane jerked upright, swearing under his breath. He would have sworn the chair in the shadows near the back of the store had been empty. He couldn't see the face of the individual now occupying it. He suspected that what he saw was a hologram, in any event, and probably also computer-massaged. He was talking to someone very high up in the Resistance, and what he didn't know, not even the Nobles could find out.

"Quite well. Ben Adamson is an appealing young man, fresh off the truck, as they used to say. Good median value."

His contact wasted no time. "Could he be induced to join?"

"I'd have to look at the film, first." The instrument in his pocket, while it did record sight and sound, was much more sensitive than it needed to be. Its images could be analised for changes in skin temperature, pupil size and heartbeat. With the right questions, it could produce more data than an old style lie detector.

"Come come. You're a newsman. What's your gut reaction?"

"I'd say probably. He's grown up in the society, and doesn't question what he's been taught, but by the same token, it's never been challenged. He's grateful to the City for putting him back together, but when I implied they were controlling him, I think it shook him. The right motivation, the right questions, I think he'd see things our way. He'd be perfect for our purposes. He's interested in the old world, headed for the Rangers, young, impressionable."

"Don't move too fast. Remember, we're dealing with near infinite power. We can't afford a single mistake. Keep in touch with him, and nudge him gently toward the Historical Society or the SPCA. I'll prepare someone else to move him further."

"Understood. Any other service that I can do the Resistance?"

"Just keep your eye open. God Bless America."

Dane placed his hand over his heart. "God Bless America."

He turned and left immediately. As he returned home by a roundabout path, he wrestled with his concience. He disliked secrecy and the clandestine meetings. He disliked manipulating a pleasant young man like Gull, but the stakes were too high. He had been three when he had been separated from his parents in the series of diasters that took out the East Coast. Scooped up by the Nobles and reunited with his mother in a refugee camp, he learned that his father hadn't made it. He suspected that the stories he had grown up with, about the Way It Used To Be, were somewhat colored by sentiment. Still, the expatriates that he had spent afternoons listening to had fired his imagination with the nobility of self-government and Freedom. He joined them in his desire to resurrect the old Union. His career in the media made him more aware than most of how much they were controlled by the City. When the Resistance approached him, many years ago, he was warned to be patient. Fortunately, thanks to the Tree, they had that luxury. Dane was amused by the irony that the Nobles' own creation might be used against them. The fact that he was not privy to the overall plan did grate, but for now, he told himself, let others take the risks of leadership. Things, he knew, changed, sometimes rapidly.

Gull and Kev stood once again, with the rest of the waiting throng in the cavernous docking bay hundreds of meters up David's Tower. The temperature at the surface was already moderating from summer's fever; at this altitude they were glad of their flight suits, now worn with regulation Ranger caps and belts. The gallery was on an extendible platform well above the floor of the bay, and they could see out over the edge to the countryside and city far below. Their eyes were now on the huge airship, however. The Lady Jeshua filled a goodly portion of the opening as it edged the last critical meters toward the dock. The tie-down probes clacked home like a smattering of mechanical applause for a good trip. They rode the telescoping gangplank out to the doors in the side of the cargo bay. This trip, the cargo was human. The boys waited impatiently while the crew confirmed docking. Gull's family was first out, followed closely by the Van Duviers. Most of the passengers were from Kibbutz Jeshua, though some were from other settlements they had passed. After their immediate families' reunions, they had to submit to a recieving line of well wishers. After the last distant cousin had told him how tall he had grown and gone to claim their luggage, Gull andt his family were left on the chilly platform.

"I hope there's no strain between you and Kev's folks," Gull said; the Van Duviers had been among the first to leave. "Kev and I are real close- we've been partners in basic training."

"Nothing like that," assured his father. "They just want to have some time alone with their son, too. Anyway, Hatcher's people are on the far side of the city. We're going to Cousin Asher's family villa south of Olivet."

"You're coming too, aren't you?" asked Rafe.

"I don't know, squirt. I've got a nice cozy room assignment at the Ranger barracks, and the city's going to be packed for the Feast."

"Nonsense," his mother said firmly. "I'm sure your centurion will understand. The Lev's are expecting our whole family!"

In point of fact, since the newest recruits had been assigned no specific duties, they were on leave for the week of the Great Feast.

"Of course I'd like to come, Mother," said Gull. "But with the size of the Lev clan, I'm bringing my own tent!"

The Great Feast had been known for millenia as the Feast of Tabernacles. The ancient Israelis had instituited it to help them remember their time of wandering in the Sinai. It had been given fresh poignancy by the Bad Years and the Rescue, but for each young generation it was a time of games, sleeping in tents on the lawn or rooftop, if need be. At the estate this year, there would be no need of rooftops. Acres of lawn would be planted in tents and bowers of all descriptions, from lean-to's of fresh-cut palm branches to the latest monomole films.

Asher had contacted the estate when the Lady Jeshua had reached Jerusalem's airspace, and a flotilla of vehicles awaited the pilgrims. Several rented cabs, a van and a flatbed wagon drawn by a crawler, both of the latter from the estate, were quickly filled. Luggage was piled on the wagon, and shrieking children piled on the luggage, but even so, it was evident that more than one trip would be necessary. As one of the last at the loading area, the Adamsons would have to wait a while for Asher's transportation.

"Can you take us to the Academy?" clamored Rafe, seeing an opportunity.

"Don't you want to get settled first?" temporised Gull.

"I think your little brother is on to something," said their father. "You could get your things, and give us the grand tour. After all, it's not everyone who has a son in the Rangers."

In a matter of minutes it was arranged. The baby was bundled off with Aunt Sophie, and a commercial cab was hailed, an easy feat with Gull's height and uniform. During the ride, Gull felt that nothing had changed. In the enclosed space, the scent his mother wore mingled with that of his father's hair lotion and he suddenly felt that he had come home, even though they were jostling together on a ride thousands of klicks from his birthplace. Rafe was up front with the driver, and Gull was nestled between his mother and father.

"Tell us again how you got the appointment," urged his father.

"Well, you have to be sponsored into the Rangers for your training. Someone has to feel that you're worth the effort- I mean, besides your parents," he said, quickly, to forestall his mother's protest. "Plus, the training isn't free, like the old armed forces. You're expected to maintain yourself through basic, though I never heard of anyone leaving because of money. If you test out well enough, you can draw on your future pay. Anyway, I told you that I met Paulo Dane one evening. I told him that Kev and I were aiming for the Rangers, and we kept in touch. When I was recovered enough to handle the physical training, he told me to go ahead and apply. I knew that the medics were underwriting my expenses, but I found out later that he actually contributed some himself."

"A wonderful man," avowed Gull's mother. "What was your basic training like? We talked about you going in on your last call, but I was surprised to hear you actually did it."

"Especially because they had to contact us for our permission, since you're still underage," interjected his father. Gull blushed.

"Sorry about that. I'd been putting it off, and suddenly I realised that if I didn't do something, I'd miss the last class before the Feast. Next thing I knew, I was at the Academy, and two days later at the training camp in the south Sinai. It's the last bit of desert there since the climate changed, but I think it concentrated all the meanness down there. The Rangers use a time honored method of conditioning-- shared misery! We drilled and marched, learned survival skills, even learned unarmed combat and weapons practice."

"I don't know why you have to do things like that," sniffed his mother. "With the City and the Nobles in charge, there's never going to be another war!"

"Now dear, you know that the City wants us to police ourselves. If they have to take an active hand in a situation, you know it's bad."

"But it will never get that bad! Everyone has enough to eat, there's work for everyone, no one gets sick, or even has to die."

"Of course it won't. But no on ever knows. After all, there are still criminals, even murders, even with the Nobles around. Never underestimate the power of human stupidity."

Gull thought it was time to change the subject. "How's Mary doing? We were exchanging letters on the compnet, but I haven't heard from her in a while."

The conversation shut down like a hay bailer that had just eaten a sapling. In retrospect, he supposed the rather general communications he had been recieving should have given him a clue, but his mother's next words hit him almost like the lightning bolt he encountered in the storm.

"Gull, honey, ahh... Mary and Thomas Fitch... the wedding was last week."

A roaring noise filled Gull's ears; he had heard of the phenomenon, but up till now had regarded it as a fictional device.

"She said to ask you to be happy for her."

Gull visualised Fitch before him, curly auburn beard, impressive width of chest and all. His hand went yet again to his own smooth chin and looked down on his own slimness. Faithful exercise and a high calorie diet had put smooth layers of muscle over the washboard ribs. All the Ranger fitness training, however, still left him with a juvenile sillouette. The young men in his class called him 'Babe'. The appellation took on a darker meaning for him. No matter that his eye-blurring reflexes, combined with the deceptive strength of those muscles, made him almost unbeatable at hand to hand. His fear that maturity might forever elude him was never far from his mind. He looked past the cabby's right ear, and the conversation languished.

"Look!" Rafe cried, after a while. "Is that the Academy?" The hangarlike arches of the nave bulked over the trees and buildings along the roadway long before they reached the drive. The cab let them out with instructions to return in about an hour. The Academy looked more like a small civilian college than a semi-military installation. A dedicated monorail connected the campus to an airfield and training grounds.

"We do the more theoretical training here," Gull explained, putting thoughts of Mary aside with an effort. "We study theology, history, behavioral psych, even a little in the medical arts. Also virtual programming, nanoelectronics, gravitational theory..."

"Before breakfast?"

"No, it usually takes us till lunch, Rafe. Afterwards we practice mountain moving and walking on water."

"Oh, be serious, Gull." His mother was looking out over the lawn, dotted with junipers and olive trees. "Where do you do all your studying?"

"Right over there, in the Nave." He indicated the building they had seen from the road. The surface was covered with the blue-black photoreceptive coating, the walls of the Nave sprung from the manicured lawn of the campus like the shell of an immense beetle. It dominated the surrounding structures like a cathedral overawed a medieval village.

"It's the center of the whole training program. It contains administration, classrooms, gymnasia, dormitories, even weapon ranges and museums."

"Have you had any more contact with the Nobles?" His mother lowered her voice a notch, into a worshipful whisper. To most people now living in the culture blossoming from the ashes of armageddon, the Nobles were a phenomenon to be encountered seldom, like a hurricane. If less violent, they still reminded one that powers existed that dwarfed the human. They were seen at the yearly ceremonies of alleigance, but, as Gull's father had implied earlier, a Noble in an unscheduled appearance usually meant someone's life was about to change radically.

"There have been one or two lectures by the Elder Brothers, as they want us to call them. And eventually, if I get posted to an active base, I'll work closely with several of them. Not all of the trainees can get used to being around them; I've had the advantage of living with Jehu and Kavvah. Those who can't handle direct contact go into the support services."

"What do you mean, 'used to being around them'?" asked Rafe.

"Well, they are different- I mean, for one thing, they don't ever make a mistake. Really. That can be tough, if you tend to make them regularly. But they don't get mad at you, or even show impatience. After all, that would be a sin. Sometimes, though, you wish they would... Aside from that, they seem really human, I mean, they enjoy a nice sunset, or a good meal, but then they say something, or get this look in their eye- it's hard to explain, but it's like they're listening to another channel, a little bit, all the time."

"Can I go see the Nave?" at Gull's nod, Rafe took off across the lawn, and they followed. It appeared at first no wider than one would expect to find around a public building, seemed to stretch under their feet. They seemed to walk for minutes with no effect, save that the Nave grew taller until it towered over them like a mountain, blotting out half the sky. Contrasting with the typical stone buildings of the historical Jerusalem, it had the flowing organic lines of most City building. Openings let into the sides of the shell, at first appearing man-sized, swelled into huge arches, twenty four of them, each the size of the settlement's hangar doors. The close-cropped ruggrass, and the lack of marked paths worked with a subtle slope to compress the distance the Nave kept from its surroundings. The dearth of human traffic due to the holidays completed the illusion. Gull watched sidelong as his family's jaws dropped, reliving the first time he had approached the structure. When, at last, they stood in the arch viewing the three stories of balconies running back into the interior, the elder Adamson spoke.

"Roomy little place, innit?"

Gull laughed. "They say that there are parts of the building that the Commander himself hasn't seen. Most of my early training has been in this corridor alone." There might have been someone on duty elsewhere in the vast structure, but there was no one to be seen on the polished stone coral floors. The soft light of banked glow globes gleamed on the multicolored surface, fractal interlocking growth rings resembling some complicated agate. Further within, shafts of brighter light poured down from skylight and mirror systems on wider courts containing study and conversation seating.

They moved off into the interior of the building, Gull pointing out cafeteria, classrooms and lecture halls, showing them the statuary, bronzes and marble that Rangers had rescued from various ruins. He led them into a blank, ceilingless room and said, "Third, please."

They were seized by invisible forces and borne upwards, to the whoops of Rafe and the shrieks of his mother.

"You could have warned us," she reprooved him, after they were deposited safely on the uppermost level.

"But this was more fun. We use the lift tubes mostly when large numbers of us need to get to a class or an assembly, but otherwise we're expected to use the stairs. The dorm is down this way. I just need to grab a few things, and we can be on our way to the Lev's

The Adamson's arrived in time for the happy chaos of the evening meal, served buffet-style on long tables in the front yard. The Lev estate was a sprawling collection of buildings and gardens. The main house was almost as large as the Great Hall back at the kibbutz; it had been growing for generations, after all, and dated back before the Rescue. This week, it was packed nearly wall to wall with relatives near and distant. After the meal, pleasantly stuffed and caught up on the small news of the settlement,Gull extracted his sand colored duffel and bedroll from a small mountain of luggage and went in search of a place to pitch his Ranger-issue tent. His parents would be staying in the guest wing, but Gull wanted more privacy, even if it meant a small hike to the bathroom. Several of the Lev clan were serving in the Rangers: Gull saw a cluster of the personal bubbles near a clump of rhododendron, and veered toward them. The owners were absent; Gull hoped they would not object to company. He pulled the tent out , a packet of monomole smaller than a fist, and inflated the network of hollow ribs with a palm sized hand pump. At full pressure, the arched top could support an adult's weight. The floor was its own air mattress, which no thorn or rock could puncture. Gull fingered a button-sized node inside the door flap, and the material turned transparent, returning to a neutral translucency with another touch. The fabric actively passed moisture outward, as well. The tent was standard issue, and common enough now, but the Rangers got to field test most new inventions. There was word of something coming down the pipeline in transportation. They used versions of the E-2 that had rescued him, now, when squads went out, but they were still relatively huge and unweildy. Gull pegged down the edges, tossed his duffel and bedding inside and followed them.

He laced his fingers behind his head and stared at the ruddy light of sunset through the fabric. The fact of Mary's engagement still rankled, but he found a measure of relief in his emotions as well. His parents were his parents, after all, but he felt free now, cut adrift from the world of his past, like the balloon of his dream within the Tower. As he drifted off, he wondered once again, if the Kavvah really could see the path he would take.

Gull awoke to voices and the smell of coffee. He slipped into jeans and a tunic and slid out of the tent to find the owners of the other tents already up and cooking over an alchohol stove. The air was a bit foggy, making the surroundings dim and remote.

"Barry, the sleeper awakens," said the Ranger tending the stove. He held out a steaming cup to Gull, who accepted with a shy nod. "I'm Teplin. I think you must be Gull Ben Adamson. I was talking to your folks last night."

"Teplin and I are stationed at one of the bases on the Asian frontier," Barry said. They both wore tan issue undershirts in the col morning air, and sported small dragon tattoos on their left shoulders.

"I'm just finishing basic," Gull explained, grateful that they had not mentioned his accident. "But I think I'd like to return to Nameric'."

"They usually honor your requests for stationing, as long as there's not a pressing need elsewhere," agreed Teplin. "In our case, there was an oversupply of Rangers in Jerusalem."

Barry punched his sib. "We Lev's generally have wandering feet: take cousin Asher, for instance. He's never happier than when he's out on the trail. We wanted to see what's going on out East. The Blessed City's just too quiet. You should consider the East- the Himalayas are higher than they ever were, and the Nobles are doing some fascinating work in the depopulated areas regenerating extinct species."

"You're as big a salesman as Asher." Teplin sipped his steaming drink. "Do you have plans for today, Gull?"

"No idea. This is my first Feast in Jerusalem since I was a toddler. I was going to connect up with my cousin Kev, but he's going to be busy with his father's kin, the Van Duviers for a while."

"Why don't you move with us, then," offered Teplin. "We know where the best parties are. When you and your cousin get back together we can separate, or not."

"You may not be able to keep up," challenged Barry.

"We'll do our best to uphold the honor of the corps," bantered Gull, pleased at their treatment of him as an adult.

"It's all we can ask. Let's go find some breakfast. Then, it's down to the Fair. Barry and I picked up a few goodies in the interior; Asher's not the only trader in this family."

The Fair was a once a year spin-off of the two-week long Feast. A huge park bloomed with tents that were more than temporary sleeping accomidations. During the day, they kept the sun off a bewildering array of goods. Everything from resurrected artifacts like antique Coke bottles to the latest commercial derivation of City tech, to ethnic delicacies cooked in gleaming solar ovens ( it never rained during the Feasts). The Fair reminded Gull of his first dizzying glimpses of Jerusalem, seemingly a lifetime ago.

There seemed to be not order to the Fair. Gull found himself walking behind the two older Rangers, each carrying a small, bulging pack. Rows of oranges, bannannas and kiwi fruit sugged up beside mounds of colorful clothing and tables bearing displays of antique books and electronics. Booths offering haircuts and shaves to pilgrims wafted their scents of oils and perfumes, mingling sometimes disasterously with the odoer of frying sausage and baked goods as the fair prepared for the noom meal.

After a bit of twisting and turning, they found their way to an awning of brilliant red fabric set up at the edge of an open area; a park within the park, roped off to give the pilgrims and other fairgoers a place to relax. Barry and Teplin emptied their packs, revealing exqisite carvings, some evidently new, and others dark with age and worn. Jewelery fashioned in exotic styles and cloth bags of loose stones, great cabochons of chatoyant saphire and moonstone. Gull ppeked over their shoulders as they haggled with the merchant. The dapper man approved of the fine detail in the carvings, and popped some of the stones into a minilab. He seemed to know the Rangers; evidently they had done this before. He passed a small geiger counter over the artifacts.

"I'm sure you sirs wouldn't snatch anything from a nuke site, but stuff does get handed around," he appologised. "Okay, let's talk price..."

Gull was distracted from the proceedings by activity in the clearing. He heard the thud of hooves coming up a lane, mingled with the sounds of lutes and primitive wind instruments, and was amazed to see a procession of medieval knights and ladies, attended by troubadors in slashed doublets and hose. They drew a crowd of children and amused onlookers in their wake, and proceeded to set up a mock camp in the roped-off park. They began swordfights withwooden swords and contests of skill, throwing battle-axes and real knives into a sturdy target in a sheltered area of the park. Gull thought that he might recognise some of the faces from his evenings at the Fifth horseman. The women wore long gowns with tight bodices and elaborate headresses, and all spoke an almost unrecognisable dialect of english.

"It's the SPCA. The Society for the preservation of Creative Anachronisms." Barry's voice was at his ear. "An amusing historical society; they put on pageants and such. Their favorite period was the Medieval, though some of them do the American Revolutionary war and the Fifties. Nineteen fifties, that is. Someone has an actual internal combustion engine vehicle, a Chevy, I think it's called. Of course, it's been modified to run on alchohol."

Gull watched as a short individual in a striped, multi-colored outfit and a seven-pointed belled collar juggled a variety of objects. On impulse, Gull ducked under the ribbon border of the clearing and picked up several pine cones. He tried tossing them experimentally, imitating the juggler's motions, and after a few false starts found that his enhanced reflexes enabled him to track the various trajectories. The juggler grinned at him, and they began exchainging objects. Gull found himslef juggling oranges, beanbags and wooden blocks along with his pine cones. He kept up for a while, but at last his inexperience overwhelmed his nervous system and the pattern collapsed in a blizzard of bric-a-brac and fruit.

Gulll heard applause, and found that a small crowd, both performers and civilians had gathered around their impromptu ballistic duet. He and the juggler bowed to each other.

to be continued....

ref Jerusalem line 352 HP