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A.R.Yngve DARC AGES Book Two _________________________ |
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Chapter 14
Meijji gazed up at the sky, for the fifth time that day; her female friends shook their heads and grinned at her. The two oldest, bravest of the young women asked her: "Bird-watching again, Meijji?" -- "Yeah, that's a seagull, not a flying-machine!" They instinctively darted away laughing, but Meijji was both strong and quick. She ran after them, caught one of them by the braids, and pinned her to the ground. Meijji savagely yanked the other girl's hair, until she cried out in pain. "Next time I'll cut off your braids, you hear?" With a resentful snort Meijji released the sobbing girl, who ran off to tell her parents on the terraced fields farther downhill. The other girls resumed their washing chores, sitting down by their wide barrels filled with water and soapy textiles. This batch of garments, linen and drapes belonged to Mechao's household. Meijji, being the oldest daughter of the island's most powerful man, was under strict orders from her mother to oversee the laundry work. She used to complain that her younger brothers and sisters were allowed to play around most of the day, but her old mother was relentless -- if Meijji wished to be treated like a grown woman in the future, she would have to earn it in the present. Mechao did feel guilty because of Meijji's laments, though -- so from time to time, he tried to learn her the workings of his laboratory, and created her monstrous pet Pipo. During the recent few years, her interests had wandered more and more into the social domain -- and, for the last few days, her mind had fixed on a single man. Everyone on the Kap Verita archipelago knew what Meijji was waiting for, and why she acted even testier than usual. Every day, she scanned the skies -- and saw nothing except birds. She grasped the little golden figurine that hung from her necklace, his gift to her, and shut her eyes to dream of his presence. Suddenly, a little past noon when the working population was resting in the available shadow of trees and roofs, silence blanketed the island. The crickets and birds fell quiet. The islanders ceased talking, felt with their toes at the ground for the vibrations of an earthquake, or the first stirrings of the old volcano Fogo. But no earthquake came. No volcanic eruption, just the distant rumble of a double-engine aircraft. Meijji's little siblings ran to tell her, but she knew immediately and hurried down toward the beach -- closely followed by a score of other women. They, too, had been dreaming about pale-skinned warriors from faraway lands, and this one might not come alone. Up at the camouflaged mansion of Mechao, the servants alerted the house master and his wife. He sent out word to greet the visitors with rifles ready, just in case. Meijji, her legs draped in a striking red and orange sarong, gasped when she saw the steep incoming angle of the descending jet craft. It was the Sunray, undoubtedly -- coming in fast and low, not at all like the slow, hovering descent of the previous landing. "Launch the boats!" she commanded her following. Without a moment's hesitation, they ran for the sloping camouflaged roofs of the boat sheds, covered by sand and shrubs. Carried on the shoulders of forty women and young girls, four canoe-shaped boats were rapidly moved across the beach and launched into the sea. Meijji took the seat at the stern of one boat, her eyes never leaving the descending Sunray. The girls fell into a well-exercised paddling rhythm; the four boats shot forth like floating arrows that sliced through the waves. Above the sea, the descending craft's roar increased in pitch -- it flew just sixty meters above the waves, yet several hundred meters off-coast. Then, something burst open from the Sunray -- Meijji's heart jumped, and she thought the craft would crash -- but when she looked again, she saw a rectangular shape of white fabric bobbing wildly above the jet craft, connected to it by tight wires. The contraption seemed to curb the fall of the craft, which roared past the boats and in over the rocky beach -- toward the open field of the old ruined harbor. Meijji ordered the boats to turn back to shore. As they did so, the Sunray made a shaky glide downward, and disappeared in a wall of spouting dirt and dust. The women could not see or hear a crash. They dashed from the landed boats, and ran to the harbor ruins to see. Up on the ridge above, the camouflaged cableway was erected; a loaded platform came slowly gliding down from the mansion. Meijji knew it was her father, and increased her running pace until her lungs ached. When she arrived at the open place, she coughed and squinted her way through the settling dust, ignoring her friends' warnings. She called out for Dohan, stumbled forward and finally reached the bulk of the parked flying vessel. It was radiating heat and settling engine noise, but was undamaged. Without noticing the blistering heat of the metal hull, she banged on a jet tube with her bare fists -- and, in an answer to her prayers, the rear port opened and the cargo ramp extended down onto the ground. "Hello?" sounded a familiar young male voice from inside. There followed some commotion from the cabin, a brief but heated argument between Darc and Dohan. Meijji was about to run up and inside, when Dohan's sweaty face appeared in the doorway. He grinned wide when he saw her -- then held out his hand to stop her. "Meijji! Stop! Please! You must not come near us yet!" Meijji stopped, struck by anxiety. She only wanted to spring up and be caught in his embrace. "Wait for your father!" Dohan said. "Mechao must make sure that there is no risk to you!" The girl stepped back, seeing the fear in her man's eyes. She retreated farther away, and the other girls came to ask her what was wrong. As they stood there, the local fire brigade came driving into the crowd, with an extra load consisting of Mechao and family members. The old doctor stepped down from the motorized wagon, and looked around. He waved his walking-stick angrily at the assembled girls, and snapped his fingers at them -- they all scattered away, except for Meijji. Darc had seen Mechao arrive, and steeled himself for another lengthy quarantine procedure. Patience, he told himself, was now all they needed. Time he had plenty of from now on. He showed himself to his hosts, but kept his distance -- and started to explain matters as carefully as he could, without stirring a panic among the islanders. And he made them listen. Yet, Mechao was the first one to panic when he saw the Leper girl. The quarantine lasted another few days, but the passengers aboard the Sunray endured it quite well. When Mechao had regained his composure -- he feared Lepers just as much as anyone else -- he got to work. Searching his old library for quarantine procedures, he dusted off a set of protective breathing-helmets, had suits made to fit them, and whipped up a supply of sterilizing fluids. Dressed in the protective gear, he could visit Darc inside the ship without risk, supply them with them food and water, and examine Eye-Leg closer. His fear was gradually replaced by intense curiosity. Perhaps he felt less interest in Eye-Leg as a person, and more as a biological curiosity. Shara watched over his ever move, so that he would not harm the nervous Leper girl. On the third day of quarantine, Mechao allowed his own daughter inside the ship cabin. Covered up by a protective suit, she embraced and kissed Dohan the best she could -- the glass plate of Meijji's mask separated their lips from each other. They agreed to save their words for later, once the quarantine was over. After Meijji had left the ship, Darc had to confront her father. "Mechao," he asked with just a hint of reproach, "how come you haven't thought of this before? Or did your ancestors? Did any other witchdoctors? I don't understand." To this challenge, Mechao responded with utter bewilderment. His first impression was that Darc had caught him acting stupid -- an unforgivable sin in his clan. Like a grumpy old man, he turned defensive behind his protective mask: "You think me lacking in brains to understand the Plague? You imply that I was blind to the misery the Plague is causing? Perhaps I'm just a reclusive islander, afraid of dealing with the outside world, is that what you mean?" Darc replied: "You know more about genetic engineering that I ever did in my time. You can perform wonders with your laboratory, as could your forefathers. And that is precisely why I can't understand... why me?" Mechao laughed; not his peculiar little laugh, but a cackling guffaw. "Of course my ancestors thought of the Plague! Everyone does. But you thought differently! Like... like a man from another world, able to see us stripped of our own preconceived notions. You opened my eyes, Darc -- opened my eyes to a new way of seeing! What was the name of that profession again?" "'Science'," Darc answered. And just then he felt that intoxicating chill down his spine again, the rush of insight through his head, the high to which he had always been addicted. He sensed what enormous power he was holding: to actually change the world. Just knowing it was enough for him. "'Science'," Mechao mimicked appreciatively. "That's it! With the eyes of science, you looked at the things we had accepted as inevitable for hundreds of years. And you saw that the Plague was an intrusion into the world, not the fact of life we were born with. "Us witchdoctors are spread far apart; we usually avoid each other as well as the city-states. Indeed, I have never personally met one outside my own bloodline. We have preferred the comfort of stability for too long, peddling in petty genetic play. It is time for a change." The two men shook hands, thinking they were on the same wavelength. Mechao meant change on a modest scale. Not even he could guess at the impact of change to come. |
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