Chapter 6

Deilen Koru had awakened with his mind in fairer shape than the frenzied, self-questioning state he had left it in after finally falling asleep. The morning was bright as he stepped out of his apartment and climbed up the canyon-like entrance to his apartment and into the sunlight. The sun had circled almost all the way to the east on approach to its highest point in the sky, due north, before it would dip back down to the west and continue its slow spiral down to the southern mountains once again, kiss them gently, and begin again its ascent into the eastern sky as the days exchanged places on the calendar. The short walk to the phase train invigorated him, and something within him nudged him with the fact that he hadn't gone for a run in several weeks. He promised that something that he would indeed run, soon, when he had spare time enough.

The phase train was nearly empty, as usual. Mrs. Kim sat in her seat, that with the window two rows back from the middle doors. He nodded at her as he boarded and she returned a smile, but said nothing. A man he'd never before seen occupied the back corner, a wide-brimmed hat pulled low kept Deilen from saying anything, so he found his normal seat and enjoyed the feeling of being pressed into the seat back as the train accelerated. He noticed all the usual landmarks as he gazed out the window, but he found himself distracted by the many in-betweens. There was the central Imperial building, a ridiculous spiral shaped building designed by some architect on rush or some other narcotic which in practice only belittled the natives instead of inspiring the colonists, but while it loomed large above any other of the passing brick and plaster buildings, Deilen found himself mesmerized by the quick, flashing portraits he glimpsed as the phase train blitzed to it's next platform. A mother and young child curled against a shade-post on a street corner. A naked young boy wrestling a mangy alley dog under a large billboard advertising the latest shipment to Rena. A pair strolling across a bridge, hand in hand, both clothed in the purest white.

There were only two stops between Deilen's station, Billing's Grand, and Imperial Centre, for which he was grateful. The eastern half of the city wasn't nearly as developed as the western, but the apartments didn't cost nearly as much, and he didn't mind the greater native population so much as others. Some seemed to believe them non-human in their core, despite their appearances. Deilen had always held that they were but a generational remnant of a former non-authorized colonization attempt. After all, there weren't that many of them on the planet in the first place and a linguist friend of his had remarked on the similarity of their language to some form of Mongolian. And while he figured DNA testing could settle the argument once and for all, he didn't believe the government would ever be concerned enough for the well being of the natives to ever attempt a stunt that might entitle them to benefits given the colonists.

And so all this talk of dehumanization efforts among the colonists, of stricter enforcement of separation policies, of relocation programs had recently sprung up among many of his associates. He listened with an astonished conscience but never participated in the debate. Human or not, this fear of the native other was completely unwarranted, but far too prevalent to challenge. He knew the government was far from actually implementing any of the proposed or rumored native control policies and rather settled for less radical measures of keeping the natives separate but busy and semi-content. Sattelite labor camps dotted the plains around the cities and much larger, less-comfortable, and more crowded phase trains serviced these camps which provided the very basic elements of industry for the planet: mining among the top percent with agriculture, a few textile or plastics factories or the like found homes outside a few cities. While these places did provide a chance for basic employment for the natives, it could hardly be called an opportunity to better oneself. It was a control device, Deilen knew it, but had become such an institution in the framework of the society that to challenge its principle was ridiculous. And so he and a few others tolerated it, while the majority of the settlers lauded its success and hailed it as one of the greatest breakthroughs in native relations in any colonial history. Whether these praises ever made it back to planets like Telamar, he couldn't say, but whenever he heard a positive remark about the labor camps, he hoped it died on the very wind that carried it.

On the stop before his, he found it curious that several dozen people were lined up to join the phase train that morning. Deilen furrowed his eyebrows and scanned the approaching platform. Everyone seemed anxious, looking over their shoulders, scratching at their hair, rubbing their hands together. Not a one seemed to be engaged in conversation—they all just fidgeted in anticipation of the doors opening. Usually big John got on here, but Deilen couldn't find him in the crowd. Just as the doors slid open and the people began to pile in, the train shuddered and an echoing boom found Deilen's ears. He looked past the platform and saw a pillar of black smoke billowing into the atmosphere. A hushed gasp seemed to ripple through the crowd of boarding passengers who practically fell into the remaining seats on board. But no one seemed ready to say anything. Everyone found the floor or their hands suddenly far more interesting than anyone else on board. Deilen found he couldn't make eye contact with anyone if he tried—except for Mrs. Kim, who just smiled at him until he looked away. So he gazed back out the window at the smoke, wondering what in the world was happening down there.

And just as the train began to accelerate, he saw a young woman step onto the platform, without any sense of urgency, and watch the train leave. And just before he was too far away to notice, she looked up at the departing train with such bright blue eyes that he remembered at once his encounter the night before. Deilen put a hand to the window, but immediately lost sight of her behind another passing billboard. He took a measured breath. It couldn't have been. Could it? Could she have been the same woman who had begged his help before?

His mind wandered back to that place of turmoil, of the self-tormenting angst he had brought on himself by refusing to help her. What if he stopped back there on his way home? What if he could find the transportation officer and check to see if he or she recognized her, could supply him with an address; yes, for they had to keep a residential address for all natives who used the public transportation systems. Perhaps he could find her again!

Here he caught himself. And do what? How could he explain himself? How had he proved that he was anything other than those who promoted dehumanization centers? He sighed, told himself to let it go; he had any chance to redeem himself with Lo'ru. But he promised himself that next time, he would act differently. Next time he would prove himself different from the mass of the colonists. If there were a next time.

When he exited the phase train, he was alone; and alone he walked the busy streets to the medical research facility. Many eyes greeted him as he entered the complex, but only a single pair of blue eyes were on his mind. Whether they noticed his distracted state, he didn't care and found his office with routine force, settling with all of his weight into his chair and sighing his frustrations to his desk, just to get them out. Still those blue eyes found his mind's eye, that defeated, deflated gaze that had plummeted to the floor in the moment he had asked her to leave.

He rubbed his eyes in an effort to erase the vision. Why had he been so touched, so bothered. His conscience had been free that morning until the phase station where he had again seen her, the native girl Lo'ru, who he ought to report as a criminal to the authorities. But had he seen her? Or had he wanted to see her? It had seemed so vivid in that moment of epiphany. Yes, yes of course he had seen her. Those eyes were unmistakeable. But could he bring himself to stop at Ralma Stand on the way home? He must; he absolutely must, he told himself. There was no other way to ease his conscience than by action in response. There was even a decent pub down that way he could eat at if he needed to keep up his search all evening. Other details came to mind, other courses of action he might take in order to locate Lo'ru.

So when a hurried knock and opening of his door came, along with the frenzied breathing and pulsing presence of his coworker, Miles, Deilen's startled hands slapped the desk, and after his heartbeat slowed, he spun to confront his huffing companion.

“I know you knocked, but really, Miles...”

“Sorry D, but you really really really need to see this; it just came in from the HTO chamber.” A hasty hand slammed a small triple-d on the metallic desk surface in front of him.

The words that left Deilen's mouth, asked, “What is it?” but the ideas scrambling through his mind, brought a pace back to his heart. Was it some sort of breakthrough numbers on the disease? Something inside his chest went cold. What if the HTO had reevaluated the number values of the core string decay? What if it had changed the possibility of the life-expectancy of the virus? Could Lo'ru have been right in saying she had the disease? Question after question bombarded his conscious mind and a pit grew inside him. With heavy breaths and slow-responding fingers, he took the device from the desk; he searched it's screen with frantic eyes.

But the display didn't have numbers or graphs but a picture of five oddly dressed silhouettes with a green-glowing triangle transparently pulsing over it. The disconnect between his thoughts and the input his eyes gave him took more than a moment to hurdle before he engaged enough to lightly press the blinking triangle on the screen. Music and color flashed to life and Deilen's eyebrows furrowed.

“It's Ntamba's newest release—just hit the GSS link five minutes ago!”

The triple-d clattered on the metal desk as Deilen's hand went to his forehead. He tried to take moderated breaths and closed his eyes to help calm a throbbing in the back of his head.

“Hey!” Miles shouted behind him.

But before the big man could do anything, Deilen reached back down to the device and picked it up again. Erratic camerawork dipped and dived from one fellow to the next; the music was severe in its rhythm but catchy in its melody. Bouncy seemed to Deilen the best word to describe it. And he rather liked it, or would have like it more, had he not been so distracted by his conscience.

When he turned, Miles waited with raised eyebrows. “So?” he asked simply. Deilen didn't answer immediately, which provoked the rest of the question from the husky fellow who took up the majority of whatever space he was in. “What do you think?”

“I don't know; its different from their earlier stuff,” he dodged at first, but rallied with, “but it seems like a decent progression: reminiscent of older works enough to please yet new enough to keep you on your toes. I like it.”

Miles, who had seemed to be holding his breath, exhaled and leaned against the wall. “I love it!” he burst forth.

“Let's hope that's not the only surprise of the day,” Deilen muttered.

“Hey, here's your second; I lost five pounds last week.”

Deilen furrowed his brow—chewed a bit on his lower lip. “Awesome.” A silence gathered; Deilen let it endure for a moment. “What do you owe that, too?”

“The running, I think. I never kept up with it so well as this past week. Felt like I was going to die.”

“I'm glad you stuck with it,” Deilen said, turning at last to face his coworker.

“I had to. Mel locked the door until I finished.”

Deilen smiled. “Even so, you still had to do the running. You could have walked out of sight and waited for fifteen minutes...” but he trailed off as Miles was shaking his head in vehement denial.

“I wouldn't dare; not after that, oh I forget what it's called, little button she stuck right in the middle of my back. Tracks what you do. Itches like crazy, too. She could call up at any moment where I am; she'd call the police if I wasn't running like crazy.”

“So you really owe it to Mel, then?” Deilen stated more than asked.

Miles shrugged. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“I'll send her some priahls then,” Deilen said, crossing his arms behind his back.”

Miles' complexion plummeted. “No! Don't do that! She'll make ME eat them!”

Deilen laughed and nodded. “Exactly. You'll be five more pounds thinner next week. And then you can thank me back with brownies.”

“Right. I'm sure you'd LOVE...”

A buzz interrupted him from Deilen's desk. A flashing projection before them displayed a nurse with pretty eyes looking back at them. A few bars of information popped up on the side as she began to speak: “Deilen Koru?” He nodded. “We have an emergency case on our hands here; a native came in with your card and practically collapsed in the waiting room. I assume you know her?”