It Was A School Day - 3. Defection Deflection

While Kismet was on the phone with his father, one of his dorm mates came up upstairs bearing the message a man wearing what appeared to be a government-issue suit complete with earbug and weapon was prowling around the bottom floor flashing a very official looking government-issue badge. The badge-flasher also asked a few people some specific enough questions as they were leaving that they were worried about Kismet’s safety. Questions leading enough they believed the man knew about the search Kismet performed earlier that morning.

The guys went into action and sent him looking all over campus for the students who were not in the dorms at this time and who were least likely to know who might have caused the ruckus. In the meantime, all traces of questionable activity were cleaned from the entire dorm. When someone finally did send the man to the correct place, he found the door open, the lights on, and Valdorn sitting at his desk studying. The second desk was clear of all personal items, one closet was open and empty, and one bed was stripped to the bare mattress. There were three standard sized shipping boxes near the door addressed to Kismet’s home address.

“You have a roommate?” the official asked as he barged into the room and flashed a badge at Valdorn without introduction.

“I did. I don’t now.”

“Do you know of any activity your former roommate might have engaged in that…”

“Excuse me, and you are?” Valdorn interrupted him.

“That’s classified. So if you’ll just…”

“What you are asking is very personal information. I do not believe I will be answering your questions. Now if you don’t mind, please leave so that I may return to my studies.”

“Interfering with an investigation is a jail-able offense.”

“And interfering with my graduation could cause an inter-sector incident, sir. At this time, this course has priority; therefore, I must again ask you to leave. Else, my uncle will not be happy and when he is not happy the Prince is not happy and when the Prince is not happy….” Valdorn shrugged.

The official walked back toward the door, then looked over toward Valdorn, “Do you know where he went?”

“His training was in tech. His orders came in this morning. He was packed and gone before breakfast with transport connections to Juniper Station. Not sure where he goes from there.” Valdorn sighed, “Now can I please get back to this?”

Kismet was out of the city and on his way to Eos Station by lunch. But before then he had been a busy boy. Several documents had to be given to Valdorn, and the emergency plan explained, since he was going to be pulling it off in Kismet’s place. Then he had to convince the registrar’s his bogus active-duty paperwork was not only real but urgent, which turned out easier than he expected. A little while later he left the office officially a graduate and had the transcripts to prove it. His belongings were all left behind for Valdorn to disperse as needed; the bags were marked as to what could be stored and what had to be brought with him when he came. Some things could simply be replaced; others couldn’t be so easily replaced. A few were irreplaceable.

As per instructions, he took one, single strap, over the shoulder, messenger type bag, and a smallish one at that. Something he could run with if he needed to but that wouldn’t raise any suspicion because it didn’t look like a bag someone would run away with. Inside he placed a single pair of jeans, two t-shirts, and a change of underclothes. He put cash in the jean’s pockets before he folded them and more in a pocket of the bag. He placed some more cash in his wallet and left his bank information with Valdorn. Everything else was on him personally. His fingers itched to touch the place his data hid but he would not. He needed to train his mind to ignore it, to not think about it or the data. However, when his friends said they were not without resources he had never expected…

He arrived at Eos early the next morning, pulled the borrowed car into the long-term parking area, and left it there. Someone else would be by in a few days to pick it up. He paused and looked up before he walked into the tunnel that would lead him underground and eventually off the planet. It wasn’t the closest port, nor the biggest, but it was the one with his ride and he wondered who he would be hitching with.

He knew he looked rough, but there was no helping it. He hadn’t had much time to devote to personal cleanliness over the past day, nor had he eaten very nutritious food and his stomach didn’t mind letting him know it. He was sore in places he had no business being sore and tired for driving too many hours after so many months of not driving at all. He was sure he was beginning to overly ripe – fear, nerves, and lack of wash water – all contributed to the stench. However, once he was in the station he took a moment to find a washroom and change his clothes. Before he did so though, he splashed water on his face with a little soap from the hand pump and used the dirty shirt to wipe away the worst of the sweat. He put his dirty clothing in his bag and didn’t feel so much like a slob.

Kismet stood in the queue with the rest of the passengers. His bag rested against his right hip where his arm lay on it as if it didn’t contain everything in the world he owned now. The strap crossed his chest and dug into his left shoulder slightly at his neck. He reached up and scratched it again and tried not to think about his situation. He had no ticket, no flight plan, and no clue as to where he was going other than Val’s word that his uncle would be waiting for him. That his family would be waiting for him. Kismet took a few calming breaths and considered that sometimes trust was all you had. He guessed that was what it came down to. Did he trust Val?

Kismet queued forward. As he neared the panel of booths with the officials who were examining individual plans, tickets, passports, and other credentials, Kismet moved toward the line that was closest to the ships. Each person who went ahead of him brought him one person closer to being discovered with no escape route, but then he saw them. On the far side of the queue were three men wearing matching jumpsuits which could have been related to each other they looked so similar. At first glance the three appeared to be human, but when one met his glance, Kismet decided they definitely were not. Nor did they share any features with Valdorn. Near them were some government officials dressed in their ever-present black suits and crisp white dress shirts. They could have been a group of executives except for the way they stood and the slight bulges of their weapons that gave them away. They, too, appeared to be looking for someone. The jump-suited aliens moved closer and closer to the roped off area, looking beyond Kismet. He had a bad feeling about this.

When Kismet was the next person back from the windows, one of the waiting aliens caught his eye again. He made some quick hand motions that Kismet understood to indicate there were a lot of guards and to follow, then that alien and another started walking away. Kismet took a deep breath. This was it. He shoved his passport in his pocket. It could be faked, and if he couldn’t do it, he knew someone who could. Then the last one let out an excited squeal as if he recognized someone, a sound Kismet had heard Valdorn make a hundred times. These were his family.

There was no more time to wait, he had to decide: trust or not trust. Kismet took a deep breath, made a decision, and broke line. He took off in the direction of the one who squealed. When Kismet made his move, the other two created disturbances in opposite directions causing more confusion among the people surrounding Kismet. The government officials turned in circles for a few precious moments giving Kismet and his guide enough lead to get them headed in the right direction.

The first shot fired as the guide turned into a terminal. It was wild, but the crowd panicked and for a moment Kismet lost his guide, but then he caught a glimpse of an alien jumping up and down amid the chaos. Kismet grinned. At that time, more aliens came out of the terminal link, armed with riot weapons and began fighting back. There was noise, a lot of noise both in front of him and behind him and for a moment Kismet lost his sense of direction as the crowd surged forward and back trying to escape the opposing forces.

Finally, one of the aliens grabbed Kismet by the shoulder strap of his bag and helped him to fight through the crowd. Together, with the others cutting a path, they pushed their way almost all the way to the ship before one of the officials managed to catch up with them and knock Kismet off balance. Kismet stumbled and the alien tugged harder on the strap in an attempt to pull Kismet upright, further jostling him off balance. He staggered another few feet determined to make it to the ship and he had nearly made it when the strap failed. The bag came off in the alien’s hands causing Kismet to stumble, falling forward, as the alien fell and slid into the ship. The bag flew out of the alien’s hands and over his head further into the ship, leaving Kismet lying in the link from the hips down, but clearly in the ship from the waist up with his face inches from the surprised alien’s crotch.

Before anyone on the ship could react, the official moved forward and put his knee in Kismet’s back, which placed him on the ship, although just barely. Then the official twisted one of Kismet’s arms up behind his back and leaned forward so he spoke next to Kismet’s ear, “If you value your freedom, don’t say a word.”

The alien guide that Kismet had chased through the terminals snapped into a more formal stance and Kismet could hear some shuffling behind him. The alien on the floor scooted backwards and scrambled to his feet. Kismet tried to look around but the official wrenched Kismet’s arm a little tighter.

Kismet cried out in pain, pulling his head upwards as he did. The guide he followed through the terminal caught his attention and mouthed a word that Kismet immediately repeated.

“What did you say?” the official on his back said as he caused Kismet more pain.

“Uncle!” Kismet cried out, “Please!”

“Why are you molesting my nephew on my doorstep?” the alien asked with a hint of disdain in his voice. Then he looked down at Kismet and smiled, “Is this how you greet your uncle?”

“This one is not Seberian. His hair is red!” the official said as he yanked Kismet up.

“And your species is limited to one hair color? Our Houses do interbreed and while a red is uncommon, it is not as rare as you might think. Thank you for returning him. His guard will not lose him again.” The alien Kismet claimed as his uncle made a motion and the doors began to close. Kismet began to slip but the guide reached down to help him.

The official began to fall but his mates pulled him back by his jacket.

The government agent spoke to Kismet as the doors closed, “You best be certain son, this is your point of no return.”

“I am. He’s my uncle.”

The door thunked shut and Kismet wondered what, or better yet – whom -- he had gotten mixed up with.

Once Kismet was standing on his own two feet and the hull secured, his host smiled at him, “Welcome aboard. We are pleased to finally meet the much talked about Kismet. Valdorn’s communications always mention you. So I must ask you, which do you believe brought you and you to us– ‘Chance’ or ‘Luck’?”

“’Chance’? ‘Luck’? Does it matter? Either way looks like I’m fucked,” Kismet looked around him and realized he was in a whole new world. “I’m not really sure if I believe in ‘Fate’ the way Valdorn explained it. I don’t mean to be rude or anything, it’s just not something I’ve been able to wrap my head around in the past day.”

Several of the young men around them stopped and stared as Kismet spoke so frankly.

“You are safe here, Kismet, we don’t require your belief, just your… acceptance. Perhaps in time you will believe.” Uncle smiled, “I understand you have been looking for your brother, Puck Hanover?”

“Yes, he disappeared under questionable circumstances. It’s what I was searching when people started showing up at the dorm. Valdorn and I thought it best if I volunteered to disappear before someone decided to make me disappear. You saved my life.”

“It is what we believe, ‘Fate’...”

“Has two lovers…” Kismet finished for him with a bashful grin.

“And if you walk on the wild side of life, you will find them both,” the older man winked at him. “My nephew said you brought some data with you?”

“I did, but it will have to be retrieved.”

“Retrieved?”

“It was possible I would be captured. My friends, well, they thought it necessary for me not to have the information easily accessible.” He took a deep breath. “There is a tracking device our government uses for certain types of individuals and my paperwork showed that I could be that type. I couldn’t leave home without one. The information is embedded in the chip that should be my tracking device. It can be read with any scanner set to the correct frequency and within very close range. The information is encrypted.”

“Excellent, I’ll turn you over to the right areas for data analysis once we are underway. I expect that Valdorn explained about the arrangements you were to expect. He was to share space with Taloric. If you are unopposed, you may take his place.”

At the name, an unimposing young man stepped forward from the group that was standing around. His hair was the color of not quite ripe wheat and his skin had a bit of a lemony glow. Kismet would soon learn this color was normal and meant the young man was healthy.

The thing that stood out most to Kismet though was the young man’s eyes. They were similar enough to Valdorn’s eyes to know they shared ancestors, but this Taloric’s were even more striking. To say they were green would be an understatement. They weren’t just green like a human’s eyes were green. There was a dark ring near the pupil, then they variegated outward. The hue changed so gradually as it moved outward from the pupil it was difficult to tell where the iris ended and the ‘whites’ began. Kismet didn’t realize he was staring until the man identified as Uncle cleared his throat.

“Taloric can show you where you will be sleeping. We are a working ship with everyone pulling their share. You will be put on a kitchen rotation, although that does not mean you will be actually working in the kitchen. Food has to be cultivated and we do a lot of that ourselves. That is unless…”

“I’m exceptionally skilled with communication devices,” Kismet said quickly and some of the others laughed.

“Well then, communications it is.”