c. 2024 Rod Ice
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(9-24)
Arbiter Goland Pick showed obvious signs of irritation as he stood at a control console in the Toqua Platte Center, operated to protect the western district of Calimex. His instruments registered the unmistakable signature of an advanced drive in operation, something that had happened once before in recent days. These unique energy bursts troubled him, because no other civilization on their planet held the capability to produce such a technology. Even in their own realm, the concept was one surrendered to yesterday, and known only from searching through documents that had survived the Great Uprising.
He cursed while swiping his palm over illuminated squares on the board.
“Who is that, settling into orbit? It can’t be anyone from Torontara, their resources are too limited with the shift in climate conditions. And certainly not an adventurer from Atlantia, those people are backward and inbred! Still using horses occasionally, for transportation and farm duty, because their knowledge of motorized propulsion is so crude! They’ve taken to pumping oil out of the ground in places like the old Pennsylvania Commonwealth, again! Fouling the air we took generations to cleanse!”
No one on his staff had the courage to comment in response.
Above Planet Earth, Kelly Strafe navigated her Ibid carrier back into position over what had been the trailer community of Evergreen Estates. As before, onboard sensors did not register any signs of human life. She was puzzled by the emptiness. Her abandoned friend, Dr. Judson Baines, should have been eager to make contact, and boast about his discoveries among the ruins. Yet with every sweep across the frequencies, there was nothing to hear. Simply background noise and static.
She pleaded into her microphone, while twisting knobs on the dashboard.
“Dammit Juddy! I know you’re still alive, maybe you left the shuttle for a walkabout? Maybe you forgot to take your com-link? I just want to hear your voice! I just want to know that you’re still rummaging around in those trash pits! I just want to tell you that I finally made it back!”
As she peered at her instrument displays, a thought came to mind about how Planet Earth had been rearranged after its convulsive period of global unrest. Much of the North American continent was now uninhabited. Yet it teemed with all sorts of wild vegetation, and evolving animal species. Survivors who still lived on the coasts were suspicious of outsiders, by nature. The individual states were, in practice, like fortified kingdoms. Willfully isolated and secretive. The development of each territory followed its own curve. There was little commonality between these disparate regions.
She wondered if her university cohort had been driven by curiosity to visit one of these population centers. Or perhaps, discovered a connection between the residence park where his great-grandfather had lived, and an outpost, miles away?
Finally, she decided to roll the Ibid craft out of its stationary orbit, and instead, go on a mapping tour around the giant stone. She crisscrossed the land masses, while observing weather patterns that persisted. For the moment, they were somewhat sublime. Gently moving the atmosphere around, between polar regions. Then, she returned to her original point of reference. Once again, she mentally took stock of the historical nuggets that her nerd mentor had shared.
“Calimex, Torontara, Atlantia... I know he only spoke of three. West, north, and east. The closest would be across Lake Erie, in what used to be Canada. Maybe he took a jaunt over the water? I just don’t get him going silent. He must be hearing me. Perhaps he can’t reply? Maybe he’s a prisoner? Or in distress?”
She continued scanning all the channels normally used by their compatriots in the Space Force. And others employed by commercial vessels. But as before, this search yielded no results. In desperation, she widened the parameters. Including bands that had been forgotten over time. With shortwave radio frequencies, FM, and AM ranges, and the like.
Suddenly, a twang of vintage banjo riffs sounded from her built-in speakers.
“I had an old hen and she had a wooden leg
Best darn hen that ever laid an egg
Laid more eggs than any hen around the barn
Another drink of whiskey wouldn’t do any harm
Cluck old hen, cluck and sing
You ain’t laid an egg since way last spring
Cluck old hen, cluck and squall
You ain’t laid an egg since way last fall...”
Strafe nearly fell off of her seat.
“What in blazes is that childish racket? It sounds like something Juddy would play on his wireless tablet!”
She fine-tuned a virtual dial, until the broadcast signal boomed in her cockpit.
“That’s a fine old record from folks who lived right here in the shadow of Appalachia. Boy, these lands were different in those days! It was all about survival, about raising families, about being in harmony with the environment. About tilling the soil and being thankful for a good harvest. But they never had such fancy words to describe that state of mind, you know? Anyway, we don’t either, here at Roosevelt Station. We keep things simple!”
Revelation struck her right between the eyes.
“He must’ve gone to find the source of that hillbilly music!”
The Gibidan impeller spun her ship around with surprising force, as she changed direction. The search she had conducted previously was not broad enough in scope. Now, the discharged lieutenant set a course toward the eastern coast, with all sensors aimed forward, and potted up to maximum sensitivity. Her hope to find the wandering professor had been renewed.
But as she neared the region, a crackle of Interglobal chatter echoed from her communications portal. The voice carried on this wave was ominous, and threatening.
“Alien craft! This is Toqua Platte Center, on the Pacific Ocean! Identify yourself! State your purpose in circling this peaceful world! We do not take offensive measures against anyone, of any race. But if you present a threat to us, there will be consequences like you cannot imagine! We will defend ourselves, and persevere!”
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