Scene One: In Ronnie’s Dingy Third Floor Room at 202 Green Street, Capital City, The Royal Province of Debussy-on-La-Mer
I stare at the coals on the hearth in my dingy room on the third floor of my boarding house in the Rocky Bluff neighborhood of Capital City, in the royal province Debussy-on-La-Mer, Marathon.
Let me back up. I know this makes no sense to my readers. The planet Marathon is unknown in the Coalition or on any frontier, Southern or Northern or in the worlds that the League of Hypatian Pirates knows about It one of three planets settled by a million or so refugees from the Wars of Expansion which happened five thousand years ago. These are relatively large numbers and deal with events which happened a long time ago. What is significant is that human beings escaped from Pantheran attacks to settle in a region of space where the Pantheran hegemony does not reach.
My readers know, from previous adventures, that I have been in a long-going relationship with an ungendered Pantheran, Captain Star Runner. It has been a relationship with many ups and downs and consists mostly of long absences by Captain Star Runner whose business takes her far beyond the regular trade routes. I have no idea where Captain Star Runner is at the moment and communication is not possible as Captain Star Runner, for complicated reasons, must work outside space where the Pantheran military can reach.
When I first met Captain Star Runner, I believed, as many human beings do, that the Pantherans are equal partners in the Coalition along with the Featherote Charm, the Solar League and a dozen other races. Through Star I learned that the Pantherans still think of themselves as having an empire and use the Coalition as a ruse to promote cooperation among the races in the Galactic Western Arm. It is more efficient and diminishes the need for a great deal of oversight. The Fungusian Network knows better but keeps to itself as much as possible, selling its information and artificial intelligence systems to whoever can pay.
As I sit and stare in into the hearth with its dying coals and shiver against the coldness of my room, all these machinations seem very far away. Everything about my life up until the time I came to Marathon seems very far away. I was successful, financially secure and I used many conveniences brought about technological advances. Currently I live in a dirty city which still uses horses to pull wagons for heaven sake. There is no connectivity and no information.
The truth is, I am lonely, broke and I have no prospects for either condition to change. I am near the end of my rope, a colloquial expression I once read in a book back when I lived in the Pharaoh Star System and I have no idea how to get out of this situation. I do not even have someone to talk to about my situation. I do not know that many people here.
I came to Marathon with a number of people. Tamara’s archaeological team and Captain Gyllian Romeres Lujo went back to the Northern Frontier. My friend Josh Levins decided it was safe for him to return to Ptolemy City. The Czarina and Captain William Kidd are off on a tour of Llondune Town, another planet in the Free Planets Alliance. I have not heard from or about them since their departure. They would have no way of knowing where I am. If we meet again, it will probably be by chance.
And, as I have said, Captain Star Runner is off on another space adventure.
So, if you have-not figured anything else out already, I am on my own and I have precious little to offer Capital City.
I have no idea how to be homeless. Ptolemy City had homeless people, people down on their luck. There are no social programs to deal with homelessness there. But at least the city was kept at a comfortable temperature under the dome. No one would ever freeze to death. All the others would never know what became of me. I would be lost to history.
I wonder how long it will be before I can see my breath in this drafty room. Mrs. Farnesworth will ask me for money when I bring my coal bucket downstairs to put a few more pieces of coal into it for the evening. I have very little money left. The truth is, I can spend my money on coal to keep from freezing, but by the end of the month, I will not have enough for another month’s rent. And there is the matter of food. Food is not included in my rent. I am hungry. I have never been hungry in my life like I am hungry now. In less than two week’s time, I will be homeless, too, and it is winter here in Capital City. Where do the homeless go here?
I physically shook myself. Yes, my situation was desperate, but self pity and over dramatization solves nothing. I would buy a few more pieces of coal, bring them back to my room, and then go out. This room would depress anybody. I need to go to the Royal Gardens to think. It would be cold but I think better when I am walking.
Scene Two: The second floor landing of 202 Green Street
Ronnie is seen dressed in her threadbare winter coat. One sleeve is awkwardly patched at the elbow. She has a scarf tied around her neck and a hat pulled down over her ears. A knitted belt around her waist emphasizes that the coat is too big for her.
Gwennore steps from her room and speaks to Ronnie.
“Going out again, are you?”
“Yes, Gwennore,” I said. “It is too cold to sit in my room.”
“So you’re walking in the royal gardens again, are you?”
Gwennore has an annoying habit of ending every sentence with “are you”.
“Yes, Gwennore,” I said. “I am going to walk in the Royal Gardens to think.”
“You know they can put thoughts in your head,” Gwennore said. “I’d be careful if I were you.”
Two sentences with no “are you”. This must be a record.
I made to continue down the staircase.
“I wouldn’t go on the island if I were you,” Gwennore said. “Mind my warning. No good can come of it.”
I was anxious to leave the house. Gwennore is an odd person. She has long white hair, dresses beautifully and always seems to be waiting for me when I am coming in or out of the house. She always has a warning to impart, too.
I unlocked the front door preparatory to going out. I could not wait. Gwennore’s dire warnings are another depressing aspect of living here at 202 Green Street.
I wanted to turn around, to deliver a retort. “Whoever it is, she can have that awful room. She can have you and Gwennore and Daniels who lives in the attic. She can have all of you.” But I did not say anything. I simply fled down Green Street.
“Remember your rent is due in five days,” Mrs. Farnesworth said as I stepped out the door. I had not seen her but she seemed to watch the front door the same way Gwennore watched the landing. “Don’t be late. There is someone who wants your room.”
Scene Three: Walking Through Capital City to Get to the Royal Gardens
Capital City is dreary. All the houses are stone, a red brown stone that is mined near the sea. I have heard that the quarries fill up with salt water and the walls of these quarries collapse and the sea water rushes in, changing the contours of the coastline and, perhaps this is obvious to anyone who knows about the ocean, killing people. People drown who have nothing to do with the quarries. They just happen to be there. The people working are drowned because they have to be there. Animals and trees and all sort of living things die when the water rushes in. I suppose some sea animals and plants like all of this. I know nothing about the sea. In fact, I have never seen an ocean up close. On my home world of Hypatia, there are no seas with water in them. Hypatia is cold, volcanic and with a poisonous atmosphere. I lived under a dome and never worried that it might breech. Thinking of the sea, I think I would worry all the time that I would be swept away.
I walk quickly. I must cross the bridge over the river to reach the royal gardens. It will be damp and feel much colder along the river, but it will be worth it to get to the gardens.Capital City, according to Captain Star Runner, is like an old Earth city in the late nineteenth century of the pre Solar League (PSL) period. They use animals to pull wagons, carts, and carriages of all sorts. Some of these vehicles are for hire while others are in private hands. Some small vehicles are pulled by people on foot or on bicycles. I walk because I have no money even for an omnibus.
Smoke hangs heavy over the city. Everyone burns coal and it is dirty. It causes me to cough. I was took the coal smoke can cause lung diseases that kill people. I think sometimes I will die alone on these streets from one of these diseases. I come from a place and a time where people usually live a long time and disease, which does exist, can often be treated. After all, one of the premier medical centers exists in my star system.
But that is all behind me. Now I must face the dirty air, the dirty streets, the cold and the horrible smells of manure, manufacturing and just the mass of unwashed humanity. If I am truthful, I am one of this mass of smelly people and animals moving about Capital City. Baths cost money and I have no money for bathing.
The Old Stone Bridge crosses the Afternoon of the Faun River near the Rocky Bluff neighborhood, one of the oldest neighborhoods in Capital City. The other oldest neighborhood is Palace where presumably the royal family stayed on first arriving on Marathon. It is hard to know because there are no public information centers in Capital City. If I want to know something, I must go to an information keeper. The information keepers decide if you have a need to know the information you are requesting. When I first asked for information about the early history of the settlement of the Free Planets, I was given a physical book with the appropriate history lessons for school children. When I asked for more information, I was told that I knew all I needed to know about this topic. The book, of course, described a heroic band of pilgrims and many trials culminating in the founding of Capital City with lots of pictures of very important-looking people. A brief history of the colonization of the royal province of Debussy-on-La-Mer was included with lots of soldiers, flags flying, demoralized prisoners and marching bands. I wondered why, after so shortly arriving on a new world with lots of space the leadership found it necessary to engage in mortal conflict. It reaffirmed the live-and-let-live policies I had grown up with on Hypatia. Leadership, especially hereditary leadership, is greatly overrated as far as I am concerned. Individuals can figure out what they need to do to survive and do it.
I paused to look over the low balustrade when I reached the midpoint of The Old Stone Bridge. The River Afternoon of the Faun, known locally as The Faun, spread out below me. Like Capital City, it was dirty and mean. I doubted any life still remained in its murky depths. Work boats and barges went by in both directions. Some were rowed, others sailed, using the stiff wind for propulsion. Only a few belched the ever present smoke of the city. Capital City spread out before me as I was looking downstream. Upstream The Faun is unnavigable by larger vessels. The better establishments, fine homes and shops, lay along the river. Delivery vessels call there as needed, but mostly the river is for pleasure craft. The farther upstream you go, the finer the houses. Across the river are the royal gardens, my destination. Along the Faun on the other side stretched the high imposing walls of The Citadel. The royal flag flapped in the wind on its summit. This is the administrative heart of the royal province of Debussy-on-La-Mer. I went there to ask for information. The cathedral is there, the prison, the royal residence and, I have heard, even dungeons though Gwennore is my source for this intelligence and Gwennore is, as you have seen, a bit eccentric.
“Thinking of jumping?” a man asked.
I flinched. He had startled me badly. Quickly he shot a muscular arm in front of me.
“No,” I said, stepping back from both the railing and his arm. (Muscular? How would Ronnie know. Presumably he was dressed against the cold. I need another way to describe the man as muscular. I either have to have this story take place in warmer weather in which case Ronnie does not have to buy coal and is simply using the grate as something to stare at or I have to stick with the cold and describe people another way. The cold is preferable because it precludes easy thoughts about living outside. Living outside could simply be uncomfortable but more likely quite dangerous since freezing to death is an option.)
“Many people jump into The Faun during the winter,” the man continued as if suicide is a casual topic for conversation with a stranger. “It’s a messy business, you know. Although The Old Stone Bridge appears to be low, you would hit the river pretty hard. It’s more like jumping from a window of a building. Drowning would be much more pleasant, but you’d have to wade into the river or slide off a boat.”
I shivered violently. The thought of the cold water producing an instinctual response.
“I see that does not appeal to you,” the man said.
“I am fine,” I said and turned away.
He said nothing more.
I walked quickly to the far side of the bridge. I did not turn to see if he was following me. What reason had he to do that? Yet his presence near me on the bridge unsettled me. I was only looking. How would he know how desperate my life was at this moment? I had never considered suicide. I cannot say it was from any sense of wrongdoing. It simply seemed like giving up and I was not about to give up. There must be a way out of my predicament. I only needed to find it. And wasn’t that I was doing, going to the Royal Gardens to think and, in a burst of optimism, to craft a survival plan?
Scene Four: The Island in the Middle of the Lake
I was alone as I trudged against the wind toward the Royal Gardens. In the distance I saw several people with their dogs. I did not go in their direction. I made my way inland, away from the river, toward the lake. My sense is that the lake is human made. I cannot< imagine a lake so near a river, but what do I know about such things. The lake at home is artificial though the river is not. It, however, is toxic, not from pollution but from its environment. All of Hypatia is toxic to oxygen-breathing life forms.
I climbed the hill and there, spread out before me, was the lake. I seemed to be the only one in this part of the vast preserve. I stood still and breathed great gulps of fresh air. This far from the river, fresh air was the norm. I felt alive for the first time today.
I am becoming accustomed to the open sky of Marathon, to clouds and wind and rain. I am told it will snow soon. All this is unknown on my home world.
I looked for the swans. Perhaps they were on the other side of the island. They are special to the royal family and cannot be killed under penalty of death. Why anyone would kill a swan is beyond me. Of all the wildlife I have ever seen, I think I like swans the best. I like to watch. I do not want to get close to them.
I picked my way down the steep side of the hill. I wonder if it, too, is artificial. Perhaps the steep climb and descent discourages people from coming here. There are no pavilions, no vendors. Only a few benches afford a visitor a place to sit. I have never seen a boat on the lake. I wonder if they are allowed.
There is a narrow foot bridge to the island. It is so close to the water no boat could pass this way. I crunch gravel underfoot as I make my way along the island shoreline. I will follow this path all around the island. Perhaps, if I have time before it gets dark, I will take one of the paths inland, but I doubt I will have time for that. If I walk all the way around the island, I will find some of the swans.
I came here to think, but as I walk, I find myself not thinking but living in the moment. This is such a restorative place that I do not want to bring my problems to its tranquility. Yet I know I need to decide what to do.
“No,” I thought, “I do not need to decide anything.”
I know I want to leave 202 Green Street. I want to leave Gwennore’s madness. I want to leave Daniels’ secretiveness and well, creepy factor. I want to leave Poppy Farnesworth’s open hostility toward me.
I am not from the Royal Province of Debussy-on-La-Mer and therefore Mrs. Farnesworth considers me a foreigner. And Mrs. Farnesworth does not like foreigners. I have never told her I come from another star system. That would make me a foreigner to some power of ten I cannot imagine. I simply said I was from elsewhere and refused to answer all her questions and respond to all her insinuations. She has decided I come from the Democracy of Rock and Roll which, in her mind, is the most scandalous place she can think of. As the Democracy of Rock and Roll is on another continent on the other side of the planet, I have left this inaccuracy alone. Why not be from a scandalous place. Mrs. Farnesworth would probably think Ptolemy City is scandalous and if I told her about Captain Star Runner, well, I would certainly not be allowed to stay. I would be consorting with the enemy. Although the people of the Federation of Three Planets escaped from Pantheran domination five thousand years ago, you would think they were actively fighting the Pantherans still. That might be true if the Pantherans found out where they are, but Captain Star Runner assures me the hyperspace insertion points are secure. I have to take her word for this.
Then I come around a corner and stop quite still. There in front of me is a swan, a dead swan, lying across the path, its beautiful white feathers soaked in blood.
I know the swan is dead, but I still go to it. How did this happen?
My police training takes over. I want to know who did this and why? It is clear by the swan’s cut throat no predator killed the swan. This was a deliberate act by a human being. Who murders a swan and why? Besides being illegal, what purpose does it serve? The swan was minding its own business in a lake probably created for swans to live in.
And then I see it, a piece of paper affixed to a stick stuck into the ground. It says,
What we did to your swan we will do to the entire royal family and all your minions. You are just like the swan--ornamental. You serve no purpose. You have been warned. The Unwashed Rebel Horde
This could not be a joke. I was positive about that. But who were The Rebel Horde and why did they think killing a swan and placing its body on an obscure path on the island in the lake of the Royal Gardens would telegraph their grievances to the population of the Royal Province of Debussy-on-La-Mer? And did they think all the royal family and everyone who worked for them would get the message? I doubted it.
The dead swan destroyed the peaceful and tranquil atmosphere on the island. I turned around and hurried away. If I had continued my walk around the island, I wonder if things would have turned out differently.