“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.”
Tom’s Livetrans picked up a barely audible shout from beyond the narrow doorway. “If they are ready!”
“If you are ready,” the Threck standing before them echoed. Tom noticed this one wearing the same sort of pressed, unmuddied cloak as the previous Threck, but was much taller. “Is there anything you require prior to meeting the council? I am Setkee.”
“We are fine, thank you,” Tom replied, and then took the opportunity. “Excuse my limited knowledge of your beautiful language, but what does this word ‘Setkee’ mean?”
The Threck pulled a quick eye hide and said, “It is the word which describes our status: Threckee, but not Threck.”
Tom glanced at Angela, who he noticed was wearing the same polite smile. “And what is the difference?”
Another shout from the room. “Are they coming?”
“One is what we are, the other is to be,” the Setkee clarified.
“I see,” Tom said, and gestured toward the doorway. “Great. Let’s go in.”
The council’s floor of the tower—just above the city’s voluminous water reservoir and only two levels below the observation post—boasted a vaulted ceiling atop a wide circle of support columns and a substantial center pillar. Otherwise, the room was essentially empty.
As they were led across the smooth marble floor, Tom noticed at once a dozen Threck standing tall in a wide oval. In silence, all eyes tracked Tom and Angela’s progress. Upon passing the center pillar, the Setkee guiding them stopped, rotated, and left. Tom froze as well, unsure of protocol. Unfortunately, he couldn’t see half of the council members as they were blocked by those standing closer.
But are they standing? Tom wondered.
Presumably, one of these people was Fetz, whom he’d met earlier, and who stood about Angela’s height, several centimeters shorter than Tom. This group, however, were all significantly taller than Tom. They had to have been standing on the ends of their leg tentacles, like some sort of Threck ballerina stance.