Chapter Twelve Arturo
Twelve
Arturo
The white walls of the city grew larger and larger as we approached the foothill on which it stood.
The city was massive—bigger than any individual cavern on Detritus.
The barge continued up the river, nearing a series of wooden docks at the base of the hill, lined with wooden buildings and huge metal waterwheels for generating power.
A series of pipes jutted from one of the buildings, running up the cliffside to an enormous tank above the wall.
The river didn’t run through the city, I realized. Instead, the city was accessible by a switchback road that ran up the hill from the river. There were also many people living outside the walls—farmers, factory workers, maybe more hidden in the forest.
On Detritus, the Superiority had attacked us relentlessly, and we’d broken down into nomadic tribes, always moving from cavern to cavern to prevent our total annihilation.
Even after we built Alta Base aboveground, we risked the lives of our people in the upper caverns daily.
One well-placed bomb, and our entire civilization would have collapsed.
“They aren’t defending themselves,” I said. “There aren’t any gun emplacements, no bunkers, no bomb shelters.”
Alanik looked at me with pity, and I was immediately sorry I’d spoken. But the idea that these people lived right in the sights of a Superiority space station and were allowed to just, well, live without having to worry about spreading out for safety—
I should have been relieved for them, but instead I felt angry.
“If they have no ships,” Alanik said, “perhaps the Superiority did not consider them a threat.”
That hurt too. They’d attacked us on sight the moment we arrived.
They’d been so ready for us, and yet these people lived here in apparent peace.
“We fought so hard on Detritus to preserve the apparatus that let us build starships,” I said.
“But if we’d let them destroy it, would they have left us alone? ”
“There wasn’t a lot else for us on Detritus,” Nedd said. “It’s basically just a rock.”
“Except the taynix,” Sadie said. “We would still have had hyperdrives, right? So we would have been able to escape eventually, even if they did destroy the apparatus.”
“And they didn’t destroy you,” Alanik said. “They’re gone now. Whatever outpost is here is only a remnant.”
“Like a ghost,” Sadie said. “We’re not fighting a war. This is more like…an exorcism.”
It did feel that way, given that all we knew of Ivy was her disembodied voice.
“If they can build power plants but not starfighters,” I said, “then our scanners were probably correct. They must not have a source of acclivity stone here, though they obviously still have engineers, if they can build waterwheels to power their factories.”
“It’s not that hard to build a power plant, is it?” Sadie asked. “Those have been around for ages.”
“If our flight were marooned on a planet and our starships destroyed,” Alanik said, “would you be able to build a power plant?”
“Um,” Sadie said. “No.”
“We also wouldn’t be single-handedly populating an entire city,” Nedd noted, “so they have a lot more varied expertise than we do.”
Ahead, the barge docked at the wooden platform.
By the time we reached it, a large wagon with another oversized cage had rolled forward.
The barge workers lined the cage up with the one on the barge and opened the doors between them before poking the tree creature with hooks and wrangling it into the new enclosure.
Then they transferred the pruned tree creature into the wagon’s yoke.
We approached from behind the wagon, walking by with purpose, and the barge workers paid us no mind as we passed them and continued up the hill toward the city.
I watched over my shoulder and craned my neck to see the path ahead, waiting for someone to stop us, ask for our identification, or otherwise notice that we were sneaking into an alien city unannounced. Other pedestrians strolled by, walking or riding in motorized carts.
None of them seemed to think we were out of place.
“I wish we could preschedule a hyperjump,” I said to Alanik, “in case we need to leave quickly. I feel more exposed here than when we were attacked.”
I understood the reason for the new rules; if everyone asked for permission anytime there was the slightest chance they might need a hyperjump, it would bog down the system, delaying hyperjumps for those who really needed them.
“If we hyperjump again, we might give away our position,” Alanik said. “We should only use one if our lives are in immediate danger.”
She was right, but that only made me feel less protected. I looked over at her illusory human face, and something occurred to me. “Could we use Hoid’s illusions, then?” I asked. “Would a cytonic be able to tell?”
“Probably not,” Alanik said. “Illusions are much harder to sense than hyperjumps. Like the difference between a whisper and a shout.”
Just then the caged wagon passed us, headed into the city. The tree creature poked its branches at us menacingly, though its forked limbs caught on the bars and prevented it from reaching us.
I wondered if they intended to domesticate this one, or if the one that pulled the wagon had been raised in captivity. It seemed cruel to prune the creature—they’d basically sawed off its arms and left it with only enough limbs to walk.
We crested the top of the hill, passing through an arch in the white city wall—it wasn’t painted, I realized, but made from some sort of naturally white stone.
I wondered if there was a quarry nearby, maybe farther up in the mountains.
Above the arch, chiseled in relief, was the phrase Welcome to Epiphany.
Words were inscribed below in three different alphabets, likely translations in the various languages spoken by the humans here.
“Interesting name for a city,” Nedd said quietly.
“It’s pretty,” Sadie added.
It was. “Epiphany” meant at once the dawning of a new idea and also the appearance of a supernatural being. I wondered which meaning they had in mind when they named this place.
“Any idea what those languages are?” I asked, holding the mesh of my pack in the right direction so Suki could see.
“My pin indicates they are Hebrew, Ukrainian, and Arabic, respectively,” Suki said. “None of which I speak, unfortunately.”
None of us did either, but at least we spoke one of the four.
We walked through the archway and found a crowd gathering on the other side. My heart picked up pace—had we been noticed approaching the city?
No, the crowd surrounded the wagon containing the caged tree creature, bunching so tightly that the barge workers had to herd people out of the path with their hooks while the wagon rolled slowly forward.
For a moment I wondered if the barge crew was somehow under attack, but they didn’t look worried, and the crowd sounded excited about the appearance of the creature.
They shouted and whooped, exclaiming in several different languages, including English.
They paid no mind to the pruned tree pulling the wagon but ran alongside the cage, poking at the wild one with brooms, shovels, and sticks—whatever they’d had in their hands at the time.
“What are they doing?” I asked the others.
“We could ask someone,” Sadie said hopefully.
That did seem like the best course of action, and many people here spoke English, so we could talk to the locals without immediately standing out. “All right,” I said to Sadie. “Permission granted.”
Sadie’s eyes widened. “You want me to ask?”
“Who better?” I hadn’t wanted to bring her because she sometimes didn’t know when to be quiet, but now that we needed a spokesperson, she was the most natural fit.
Sadie’s whole face lit up, and she turned toward an old woman standing on the side of the road, speaking English to two young girls who might have been her grandchildren.
“Excuse me!” Sadie called. “We were just wondering where they’re taking the tree.”
The woman looked confused. “The scion?” she said. She had a thicker accent than others in the crowd, though I couldn’t place it. “It’s going on right away. They’re a bit behind schedule.”
Sadie glanced back at me. That hadn’t exactly answered the question, but it did indicate that if we lived here, we would already know what was going on. Pushing further would probably rouse suspicion.
“Thank you,” I called to the woman, and ushered my team down the street.
“A scion,” Nedd said quietly. “I wonder why they call it that.”
Alanik shrugged. “My pin translated it as a plant cutting, the kind you would use to grow a new tree from a small branch.”
“It’s also an Old Earth word for a noble descendant,” Suki added. “A descendant of the forest, perhaps?”
Those both seemed like plausible theories. “She said it’s going on right away,” I said to Alanik. “What do you think that means?”
“You know human culture better than me,” she said.
“It’s not helping me in this case. Suki, any insight?”
“None, I’m afraid,” Suki said, her own pin translating. “The English term is generally meant for going on a shift, yes? So perhaps she means they’ll put the creature to work as soon as they arrive.”
“It could also be going on a stage,” Sadie said. “Like for a performance. Maybe it’s going to be in a play. Should I try asking someone else?”
“Let’s just follow for now,” I said, “and see where it goes.”
We’d entered the city along a main thoroughfare lined with shops—booths made of the same purplish wood as the forest—selling clothing and tools, fruits and vegetables, meat and grain.
I recognized the barrels of rice, though there were several bushels of a stalky plant I wasn’t familiar with.
One shop had shelves of toothbrushes and soaps.
Another had many racks of clothing for sale, all pushed out into the street.