To The Stars

Outside the night was warm, but a slight breeze kept it comfortable enough. From the sounds, the party was well under way, with the food finished and the drink flowing freely. Let them enjoy it. Even without the rigors of the trek their lives were monotonous enough. When the farming began again there would be no more festivities for years.

“Jan, I was just coming to get you,” Otakar said, coming around the corner of the building. “Meeting of the Family Heads and they want you.

“Couldn’t they wait until we have all had some sleep?”

“Apparently urgent. They pulled me away from a very cold pitcher of beer which I am going back to. They’ve put up the dome and are meeting there. See you in the morning.”

“Good night.”

Jan could not walk slowly enough, and the dome wasn’t far away. Now that they had finished this first journey they would be back at their complaints and bickering again. He had to talk to them, like it or not. Let them get it out of their systems so in the morning they could all get to work unloading the corn. A Proctor at the door, complete with sidearm, knocked when he came up, then let him in.

They were all there, the Family Heads and the technical officers. Waiting in silence until he sat down. It was The Hradil who spoke. It would have to be her.

“There have been grave charges, Jan Kulozik.”

“Who’s in trouble now? And couldn’t it have waited for the morning?”

“No. This is an emergency. There must be justice. You are accused of assaulting Proctor Captain Hem Ritterspach and of causing the deaths of three children.

These are grave charges. You will be held in confinement until your trial.”

He jumped to his feet, fatigue gone. “‘You can…”

Strong hands seized him, and pulled him about. Two Proctors held him and there was. Hein grinning, gun pointed.

“No tricks, Kulozik, or I shoot. You’re a dangerous criminal and you’ll be locked up.”

“What are you fools trying to do? We have no time for this sort of petty nonsense. We have to turn the trains around and go back for the rest of the corn. After that we can play your games if you insist.”

“No,” The Hradil said, and smiled, a cold smile of victory empty of any human warmth. “We have also decided that we have enough corn. Another trip would be too dangerous. Things will go on here, as they always have. Without you to cause trouble.”

Eleven

The Hradil had planned it this way from the very beginning. The thought was bitter as bile and Jan could taste the hatred that welled up inside of him when he thought about it. Planned and carried through by the brain behind those serpent eyes. Had she been a man he might have killed her, there before the others, even if they killed him in return.

Underneath him the stone floor was hot, still burning with the heat of summer. He had his shirt off and under his head as a pillow, yet he still dripped with sweat. It must be a 100 or over in the small storeroom. They must have prepared this even before holding the meeting to accuse him; he could see the marks where the stored parts had rested before being dragged away. There was no window. The light, high above, burned continually. The metal door locked from the outside. There was a gap between the door and the stone and a flow of cooler air came through it. He lay with his face pressed close to it and wondered how long he had been here and if they could ever bring him some water.

Someone had to care about him — but no one had appeared. It seemed incredible that he could be Trainmaster one day, in charge of all the people and all of the resources of the planet, and a forgotten prisoner the next.

The Hradil. They did what she wanted. Her cooperation to have him bring the trains south had been a temporary expediency. She knew he could do the job. She also knew that she had to bring him low and humble him when the trip was over. He stood for too much change and too much freedom of choice and she would not have that. Nor would the others. They would take no convincing to connive in his downfall.

No!

Too much had changed, too much was changing to let her win. If she had her way they would plant the seed corn they had brought, hold the rest of the corn to Turn over to the ships when they arrived. With an abject knuckling of the forehead no doubt, a happy sinking back to the old ways, the ways they had always known.

No! Jan pulled himself slowly to his feet. That was not the way it was going to be at all. If the ships never came they would all be dead and nothing else would matter. But if they did come then they would not go back to the old ways. He kicked and kicked at the metal door until it rattled in its frame.

“Shut up in there,” a voice finally called out.

“No. I want some water. Open this at once.

He kicked, again and again until his head began to swim with the strain, until there was finally a rattling of bolts. When the door opened Hem stood there with a drawn gun, the other Proctor at his side. He still wore the cast and he held that arm toward Jan, waving it before him.