Michael Siemsen - Exigency

“They are for learning them,” Tatsis replied, still appearing to shrivel with every passing second.

Fetz continued eyeing them. “Is one for me? Is one to open?”

Tatsis stood upright, twisted round with bulging eyes to observe Tom. She held up both arms to Fetz. “No, no, Dowfwoss! These are smart! These are Tom and Angela of Syons People.” Tatsis lowered her voice. “And they know Threck words.”

Fetz’s eyes hid and returned. She took a step toward Tom and spoke very slowly. “You understand these words?”

“Yes,” Tom’s synth replied through the PA. “Peaceful greetings, Dowfwoss Fetz. It is great pleasure to meet you and to visit Threck City.”

Fetz snapped a presumably stunned look at Tatsis. To Tom again, “You speak our words with enchanting precision! Do it again… more words!”

“We are delighted to be welcomed in your beautiful city.”

“Delighted… yes. Did you absorb my exchange with Persheck Tatsis just now?”

Tom considered how delicate to be. Clearly this Fetz was an important citizen. “I did observe this, yes, before our proper introduction.”

Fetz burst out with a melodious laugh, continuing for an awkward length. “Apologies!” she finally said. “Forgive my outburstings, as the pleasure your words incite fills my being with rivers of ecstasy! It is as if I am bathing from within! Give these to me now, Tatsis. I must never stop hearing these… What are they called?”

“Syons People,” Tatsis said. “Tom speaking, and Angela. The Thinkers were to…”

“Later!” Fetz shouted. “The Thinkers can have them later. Now, they will join me and meet the leaders. Perhaps Syons People will discover some small pleasure from us as I have from them. Assemble the council for abrupt conference.”

“I will,” Tatsis said, and scuttled away.

Fetz began walking sideways along the corridor, eyes alternating between the guests and the walkway ahead. “Come now, Syons People. Follow me and share the tale of your finding. Where did Tatsis discover you?”

“We arrived at one farm today,” Tom replied. “Dowfwoss Amoss, Tatsis, and others came shortly after for harvest.”

“I see, I see. And you requested visit to Threck City?”

“Not exactly. We sought audience with Threck to request permission to establish small camp on the far northeast end of your land. Somewhere nonintrusive and acceptable to Threck people.”

“And what is purpose of this camp?”

“To live quietly and unobtrusively. Syons People land is no longer suitable for living.”

Fetz turned into a covered corridor, leading them closer to the city center. “Interesting, interesting. And where is this land?”

“It is very small place, great distance away.”

“Interesting.”

Fetz led them through a series of rooms and corridors. Tom and Angela caught brief glimpses of fabric weaving, a large, pie slice-shaped room where 100 or more Threck wove both roofing canvas and Threck garb, and then they passed through an identical area in which a smaller number stirred steaming liquid in large vats.

“Coating,” was the only explanation Fetz provided.

When asked by curious passers-by, Fetz responded only, “Guests of the council. Move along.”

Soon, they reached the city center and a spiral staircase. Like the steps in the farmers’ domicile, they all sloped downward before meeting the next higher stair—perfectly contoured for a Threck knee-bend, and designed well to avoid slippage.

The stairs seemed never-ending, and, midway up, Tom and Angela both closed their visors for fresh doses of pure oxygen.

Twenty stairs ahead, and out of sight, Fetz called down. “Do they need assistance?”

Tom ignored her and waved when Fetz returned to view.

“We have reached the council room,” Fetz said. “You may wait at the window there and rest your bodies. The leaders have yet to arrive.” She turned and slipped through a passage in the wall.

Tom and Angela reached the landing and collapsed against a wall, catching their breath.

“Damn,” Angela’s voice in his helmet. “That was torture. Any fresh regrets for cheating on the legger machine?”

“I didn’t cheat. I always just made it to ten percent below substandard and dealt with the monthly John Li frowny face during review. Regrets, though? Yeah.” Tom sucked in a final lungful of pure oxygen and opened his visor. “Ooh, look at this.” He ran his glove down a thin line of mortar between the wall’s large blocks. “From the ground, you can’t even tell it’s masonry. Do we let them know the place is going to crumble the next time a moderate quake hits?”

“Not necessarily true. If you look, their engineers are actually super sharp—”

A Threck voice came from the doorway behind them. “Is there anything I may provide you pair?” They turned to see a smallish Threck in a spotless, beige cloak. “I am Setkee. Do you drink water?”

“Thank you, Setkee—” Tom began.

The Threck interrupted him, “You do not refer to Setkee as such. This is strange.”

Tom sent “Apologies” from his hotlist of terms and phrases. “I am not familiar with the word. How shall I address you?”

“You may address us however you wish.”

Tom decided it was safest to abandon the conversation. Without knowing Threck emotive expressions or inflection, he didn’t know if this person was angry, mildly offended, being helpful, or messing with him.

Do Threck mess with each other?

“Thank you for the offer,” Tom said. “We do not require anything at this time.”

“Understood,” the Threck said. “If you do, simply beckon Setkee.” She turned sideways and slid back through the passage.

“What the hell was that?” Angela said as they walked to a large window. “Oh… wow.”

A warm, humid breeze blew against their faces as they gazed out on an unobstructed view of the city’s east side, and the lush low hills beyond the walls. Three of the city’s seven arcades could be seen sprouting from the tower base like wheel spokes. Straight roads—most of them paved with small stone slabs—extended out from the gated ends of the arcades, on this side leading respectively to a small cluster of farms, the granite mines, and the bay’s northernmost shore.

Tom pointed to an open patch in the hilly jungle about 2K northeast. “What’s that?” An unfinished circular building could be seen just peeking out at treetop height.

“Some kind of observatory,” Angela said. “At least that’s what Minnie thought.”

She and Tom shared a somber look. Angela had said thought , not thinks .

Was it what they both believed? Were John, Minnie, and Ish alive? If so, in that environment, how long could they possibly survive? Tom had run through several scenarios while still in orbit. Between the two EV’s SSKs, they’d have 480 multirounds against a very close-by Hynka population of a couple hundred thousand, plus several million more across the country. If a skimmer didn’t have to stop, it would take sixty hours to fly from Hynka country’s mountainous central valley to the western coast, and the EV’s skimmers could maybe go ten hours between three-hour regens. At best, they’d have to make five stops. Examining all of their mislaid comrades’ possible courses, Tom had trouble coupling what was possible with what was likely . But if there was a way, Minnie and John would find it.

Staring out at the extraordinary panorama, Angela broke the silence. “She’d have absolutely loved this.”

Tom only nodded. Evidently, Angela’s hopes weren’t so high as his.

“Syons People,” a Threck voice spoke behind them. “The council wishes for you to enter now.”