John Adams - Federations

Smack-dab in the middle of the main continent, she easily identified what had been the landing field—well, a few square acres of burnt-out ground, a flimsy concrete-covered grid where ships or shuttles had landed to off-load people and supplies. Rows of temporary barracks, weathered and in need of maintenance, bordered two sides of the field to show that humans had once been accommodated there for however brief a time. There was a low-power source discernible and vegetation had not grown back over the landing area, though in forty-some years there should have been some weeds regaining a root hold. A blocky tower, now tilting sideways, held the corner position of the two barrack rows. From her aerial advantage, she could also see four roads, each going away from the deserted landing place: north, south, east and west. She could see where auxiliary lanes had split off from the main ones, smaller arteries leading to probably smaller settlements. Though none appeared to be more than dirt tracks, the vigorous growths had not reclaimed the track, leaving a clear margin on both sides. Some sort of chemical must have been used to discourage succession.

“I wonder how they decided who went in which direction,” she murmured, forgetting that oddity in the press of more important concerns.

“Probably by divine intervention,” Niall said, and there he was, seated at the pilot’s console.

She hadn’t put a voice-operated command in the program, but there he was, and she was rather pleased to hear another voice after the silent days of inward travel.

“Makes it easier to have just four main directions to search in.”

“Those tracks were made over a period of years or they wouldn’t be quite so visible since the last time they were used forty years ago.”

“True. So, eeny, meeny, miny, moe… which track will we follow now? East is east and west is west and never the twain shall meet,” he said in one of his whimsical moods.

“Nothing for north and south?”

“Well, we could go this way?” And he crossed his arms, pointing in two separate directions, neither of which was a cardinal compass point.

“North, I think, and then swing round…” Helva decided.

“In ever-increasing circles?” His tone was so caustically bright!

“Mountains, too. That’s good.”

“ ‘Purple mountains’ majesty, above the fruited plain’…” he quoted.

“That doesn’t sound right.”

“I’ve forgot how it goes,” he said, frowning.

“They do say that memory is the first thing that aging affects…”

“Thanks! I’ll remember that.”

Cloaked and at low altitude, she followed the northern track, noting the offshoots and realizing she had bit off quite a lot to chew if she was going to warn even half the inhabitants. She refused to allow the fact to discourage her from her chosen task. And night was falling on the continent.

“Ah-ha!” Niall pointed urgently at the view port. “Fires. Port three degrees.”

“And far too much forest for me to land in.”

“I don’t mind backtracking when you can find a landing spot… Oh, no, I can’t, can I?”

“No, you can’t, but I appreciate your willingness to offer. Especially since I need to show my little vid to stir them to action.”

“You could use the prosthesis,” he said in a wheedling tone, grinning at her.

She said nothing—pointedly—and he chuckled. She might have to at that if daylight didn’t show her settlements she could reach. She could hover… but she’d need something to project the vid on to for maximum effectiveness.

“I’ll just use the darkness for reconnaissance and find out how many places I’m going to have to visit.”

“Good thinking. I’ll make a list of the coordinates. You might need them if the Fleet does come to our aid and comfort.”

By morning his list of settlements, in all directions, had reached the three hundred mark. Some were small in the forested areas, but the plains or rolling hill country had many with several hundred inhabitants. All were ringed with walls, and these seemed to exude the power that showed up at every settlement, as well as a land-dike that Niall called a margin of no-woman’s-land. The largest congregation was sited at the confluence of two rivers.

“If they have such a thing as an administrative center, that is likely it,” she said. “We’ll go there first thing in the morning. When I’ve had a quick look at that island complex.”

“Whatever you say, love,” Niall remarked with unusual compliance.

So she—they—arrived bright and early as the sun rose over the cup of the mountains that surrounded the largest congregation of Ravel’s Chloe-ites.

“Rather impressive, wouldn’t you say?” Niall remarked. “Orderly, neat. Everyone must have a private domicile. Thought you said they were a cloistered order.”

The arrangement of the town, small city, did surprise Helva. Streets laid out in the center while garden plots and some large fields were positioned all around but within the customary low surrounding wall. There were main gates at each of the cardinal points of the compass but they weren’t substantial: a Kolnari war axe would have reduced them to splinters with the first blow. A power source was visible on her sensors but it seemed to power the wall. What could they be keeping out that wasn’t very tall or large or strong? Odd. Larger buildings set in the midst of fenced fields suggested either storage or barn shelters. She saw nothing grazing, though the season looked to be spring, to judge by the delicate green of cultivated fields, all within the walled boundary.

All four of the major avenues leading from the gates, for they were broad enough to be dignified with that title, tree-lined as well, led toward a large building which dominated the center. Part of it looked like a church, with an ample plaza in front of it for assemblies. Behind the church were low lines of buildings, possibly administration. This was a far-better-organized place than the original Chloe had been. Maybe they had learned something in the last century. She could hope.

“Hey, get that, Helva,” Niall said suddenly, pointing to a slim structure atop the front of the building. “Not a steeple after all—no bells in it—but it’s got something atop it.”

Their approach had now been sighted, for the avenues as well as the smaller lanes between the individual housing units were filling with figures, faces upturned. Most were racing towards the square in front of the church, or whatever the big building was.

“Early risers…” Helva remarked.

“Early to bed—that power source is limited to the wall, not any electricity—and early to rise, you know,” Niall said in a revoltingly jocular tone of voice. Then he altered to a practical tone, “And there’s just about enough space for you to land in front of that church.”

“So there is. But it’s also full,” she said, for they had arrived at the back end of the building and now that she had swung round, she could see that the plaza was filled with kneeling bodies. No one was working the fields.

“The more you squash the fewer we’ll have to save from the Kolnari,” Niall said.

“Oh, be quiet.”

“It’s over and out to you, Helva love. Sock it to them.”

The devout knelt with upturned faces. She could see their mouths open with dark O’s of surprise. But not fear. At some unseen signal, the kneelers rose and quickly, but without panic, moved back, out of the plaza.

“Be not afraid,” Helva said gently, using her exterior sound system and ignoring the rich chuckle of amusement from Niall.

“They’re not. Maybe you better alter your program, dear heart.”

“I need to speak with you.”