Michael Siemsen - Exigency

Pakte spoke on cue. “You required two afvrik from the Fishing group to locate your people?”

“Yes, and the best navigators to control them.”

Pakte addressed Unhkte. “Fishing offers the resources required of our group. Afvriks and handlers will be ready for departure in two days’ time. We will not be source of delay.”

The spectators sounded off pleasure and gratitude as they streamed down from the tiered rows, bombarding the volunteers with sample requests. Others surrounded Pablo for a peek inside his buckets. Pablo gave Aether a pleading look.

Unhkte wedged her way in, shooed away the lot encircling Pablo, and gestured to the buckets. “Do you have enough remaining to demonstrate for two others? Massoss Artsh and Massoss Feesap must be convinced to divert attention from new aqueduct and bridge.”

Pablo peered into the buckets. He held up three fingers.

“We have enough,” Aether said. “But if, like you, we coat only one arm, perhaps we could avoid any further potential gaps in support.”

Unhkte regarded her before grasping her meaning. “The council.”

Aether signed, “Yes.”

Aether stood waiting on her loaded skimmer pad, pondering what else they might need on the journey, or other tasks Zisa, Qin, and Tom should focus on in her absence.

She glanced behind her at the clear hatch over the pad’s internal storage bay. A pressed tentacle slithered across the hatch, smearing PJ. Eeahso was probably cooking in there. A preview of Eeahso’s farm-life to come, the sun would be at mid-afternoon intensity when they dropped her off. Though the council had agreed to spare her, the proviso of a life spent toiling in the fields was unlikely to play out as they expected. Aether pictured Eeahso lounging in a cool domicile each day, simpleminded farmers waiting on her with food, water, and massages. Aether didn’t care either way. She just needed her out of everyone’s hair, especially Tom’s.

Aether turned to Zisa and Pablo, still standing with hands clasped behind the other’s back, face to face, whispering, weeping, laughing. They looked like a pair of teenagers heading home to distant cities after a summer of love.

She opened an M to Pablo, about to put an end to it, and then thought of a task for Qin. He and Tom were nowhere to be seen. She activated audio to Qin.

“Hey, is there a way for you to track our progress out there? The supply pods can see skimmers, right?”

An instant reply. “I should be able to, yes. If you give me a few minutes I’ll tell you before you have to leave. Walking to P and Z’s EV now.”

A moment of silence. Beyond the beige tent tops, she saw EV2’s hatch rise and slide up over its roof. She refocused on Zisa and Pablo, their faces fused at the mouth. She yelled, “Wrap it up, kids! You have two minutes.”

Qin’s voice in her ear, “You need to come over here.”

“It’s okay if it’s too much trouble. Just do what you can. We’ve got two loaded Threck boat-fish-things waiting for us at the harbor.”

“Not that. Please come to EV-two.”

Well, that sounded serious. What could it be? Aether popped open the floor hatch, allowing Eeahso to flop out.

“What happens?” Eeahso called after her.

Aether breezed past Zisa and Pablo, around the work tents, and strode to EV2’s open hatch. She poked her head in. Qin was already standing up. He moved aside and nodded toward a console. Aether climbed in, sat down, and tried to understand what she was looking at.

Before she could ask, Qin said, “That’s the supply pod network’s homepage.”

Aether read.

Post-station evac, EV6 landed Hynka country…

A moment later, her eyes hung on Minnie’s final words—reserved for Aether—eloquent in its brevity, paralyzing in its depth.

I wish we’d met sooner; I could have loved you longer.

She read it over and over.

Qin finally broke the silence. “Says John’s hurt pretty badly.”

Aether’s senses returned and she scrolled back to the top. Level 8. No other specifics. All she could know was that his injuries were life-threatening and/or involved organ failure or loss of limb. Or at least that was the case when the message was left. When had Minnie written all this?

Qin added, “Seems pretty convinced about Ish—”

“When is this from?” Aether interrupted. “There’s no date.”

“Let me see.” He navigated on his fone, both eyes twitching as if following a fly. “Wow. File updated just yesterday.”

They were still alive—at least John and Minnie. They’d made it fifteen days! How difficult would another week be? Possibly very. Minnie had offered no indication of their security conditions, but the fact that she thought John would soon be well enough to travel, that was something.

The voice, though… the tone of the message, the mixed use of present and past tense… It was a farewell letter, ripe with nostalgia, naval gazing, and regret. It suggested that, besides John and Ish, Minnie didn’t expect to ever see them again. Did it mean she thought them dead, or that she doubted her own continued survival?

“How do we respond to this?” Aether asked with a new resolve. “Leave a new message right here?”

Qin hummed uncertainty. “I honestly don’t know how she did it. The homepage is strictly locked down. I could mess with another file, but no one would see it unless they looked for it—a search by recent modification.”

Aether wiped a hand down her face. “You have zero clue how to do this?”

Qin threw up his hands. “I’m not Minnie, okay? Hold on… let me see if Tom knows anything.”

Aether reread the message as she waited for Qin to consult Tom. Keenly aware of the Threck crews waiting for her at the harbor, she hoped that the promise of miraculous skin cream afforded her some leeway.

Qin sat down in the other seat. “Tom says she had root level passcodes.” He activated another console and began tapping away.

Aether smiled and felt a fresh rush of adoration—love seeping through a cracked door she’d fought to keep sealed since evac.

Of course root level passcodes.

“I assume I don’t have any of those?”

Tom appeared in the EV doorway. “You might, actually. I’m thinking with all the dumps that happen during exigency procedures that that’d be a big one to include.”

Qin cheered, “We do! I just remembered! Wireless was down, but ours and John’s became ‘Leadership’ EVs on evac. Everything down to root would be in there from the hardwire. You just need your regular AC account to access it! Hold on, so we don’t have to walk over there.” He navigated on the console. “Okay, accept that prompt.”

An access request popped up in Aether’s fone. She accepted, resisting the urge to point out the poor timing of Qin’s revelation. It was simply how his brain worked. If she’d thought to ask him about transglobal comms when they were floating off the coast, all this would have occurred to him then. They’d have established contact sooner. Minnie would know they’d survived.

How frightened and alone Minnie must feel. Cut off from everyone and everything. And what of her stability? Two weeks without meds…

Aether sucked in a deep breath. The message was from yesterday. For all the worst case scenarios she’d imagined, she had to accept this for the great news it was.

“I’m in our EV’s systems,” Aether said. “Tell me how to find the code you need. I’ll send you the message I want put up. Like hers, it needs to be the first thing someone sees if they access the pod UI.” Another glance at the bottom of Minnie’s message. “And don’t overwrite this… please . Just add what I give you to the top of the homepage.”