Seven laps later, the Manessa Kwi had risen high above the dust storm and the volcano. The pilot announced they were almost in a stable circular orbit, but she wanted to go around once or twice more.
Rini reported nothing in orbit with them.
“If it’s okay with all of you,” Ilika began, “I think we are done with slow, old-fashioned space travel.”
“Yay!” several crew members cheered at once. Mati grinned from ear to ear, while keeping an eye on their last climbing orbit.
“There’s a small emergency shelter at the coordinates on your flight list, Sata. Please make Mati a flight plan. I’m going to give Kibi a tour while the rest of you solve a little puzzle.”
Rini sparkled with curiosity.
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Sata studied a chart on her display. “It’s in some hills beside an old dried-up sea or lake. What’s a mon . . . u . . . ment?”
“Anything to remember someone or something important, usually made to last a long time.”
“Like a statue?” Mati asked, letting Manessa take over the orbit and swiveling around in her chair.
“Yes. A story took place here almost twenty thousand years ago, and it’s still told and retold all over Satamia. A plaque at the landing site will tell you about Zolko, the builder of the monuments, and you’ll learn the rest of the story as you solve the puzzle.”
Boro grinned, remembering the pride he felt after solving the puzzle of the Atorura tribe.
Sata picked a point on their orbital path and drew an elliptical curve from there to the destination. “You can de-orbit in about twenty seconds.”
Mati looked over the route when it appeared on her screen. “Boro, anti-mass two, ion three, please.”
Dozens of deeply-weathered stone monuments bristled all over the little valley surrounded on three sides by barren brown hills. The yellow and red stone columns were nearly devoid of features, but every once in a while, part of an ancient face would stare at them, or a few letters could be seen of a long-forgotten language.
Mati slowly piloted the ship among the pillars. Some appeared to be whole
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at twenty or thirty meters tall. Others were obviously broken, stone shards littering the ground.
The remaining side of the valley was just an ancient coastline that sloped down quickly into depths that once might have held sparkling water, but now contained only dust. A thin wind occasionally picked up the powdery dirt and spun it into ghostly funnels that lasted a minute or two.
Once they had looked at all the monuments and the ancient dry shore, Mati glanced at Ilika, and he nodded. She guided the ship toward a large stone platform in the center of the valley. Though rough from thousands of years of wind and sand, it was still almost perfectly flat on top, and large enough for several deep-space response ships. Obviously of about the same age as the monuments, two things upon it appeared much newer.
A small monument and plaque, of some smooth black material, perched on one side.
On the opposite side sat a brilliant-white dome, slightly larger than the ship.
“The plaque is part of your puzzle, so you can look at it after you drop us off. Mati, see the hatch on the right side of the shelter? It will mate with our airlock.”
Hovering just a meter above the ancient stone, Mati guided the ship in that direction. Ilika stepped to the pilot’s station and showed her several new controls. Mati lowered the struts and settled the ship when the diagram on her screen showed proper alignment. Touching another control, the shiny golden ship extended its hull and connected with the hatch of the emergency shelter.
“We now have a passageway from the ship to the shelter, so we don’t have to mess with space suits. The rest of you can have a tour of the place after finishing the puzzle. Kibi, all we need are mission bracelets.”
Ilika and Kibi quickly grabbed bracelets and disappeared into the lift.
Boro raised his eyebrows. “Why do I get the feeling this puzzle is going to make Atorura seem easy?”
“What’s going on, Ilika?” Kibi asked as soon as they stepped through the airlock tunnel into the domed shelter. A larger version of the ship’s entryway
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surrounded them, with shelves for equipment and clothing, a shower, and soft light coming from the curved ceiling.
Ilika touched some controls on the wall and the hatch closed. “A number of things, most of them challenging, all very good for the crew.”
“Where do you get these puzzles?”
“We’ve got millions of them, all over the universe, just waiting for students who need to sharpen their wits. Remember, Nebador is a huge college. As soon as you guys learn the basics, there’s plenty of advanced training waiting for you . . . and for me. You’re familiar with all these emergency kits — they’re the same as on Manessa, just larger.”
Kibi looked over the kits and didn’t see anything new. “But why don’t I have to do the puzzle along with the others?”
“Oh, that. The head of the Transport Service has learned, from long experience, that new crews tend to get too dependant on their usual commanders at about this point in training. That’s not good, so the training manual suggests they do a puzzle or two without us. They know everything they need to know, or, with Manessa’s help, they can learn it.”
“How long will they be gone?”
“This puzzle . . . two or three days.”
“Serious puzzle! What’s this machine do?”
“Gas separator. It takes apart the thin atmosphere of this planet . . .”
The remaining four members of the crew swiveled their station chairs and looked at each other.
“Who’s in command?” Mati asked.
“While we were traveling,” Rini said, “Boro was usually in charge after Kibi.”
Sata smiled and nodded.
Boro turned slightly red. “But Mati has more experience than I do on the ship . . .”
The pilot squirmed. “That’s just flight command, engines and straps and stuff. I always have to do that. We need someone who can organize this puzzle thing.”
Boro looked around. The other three were grinning and looking at him.
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“Okay, but I’m handing it off if I get tired, or start screwing up.” With an uncomfortable expression he took the command chair. “What do we know about this puzzle?”
“Nothing,” Sata said flatly.
“The plaque on the little black monument is supposed to tell us something,” Rini said.
Boro scrunched his face for a moment. “Mati, is the shelter hatch closed?”
“Um . . . yes.”
“Okay, let’s disconnect the airlock and go look at the plaque.”
A minute later, the Manessa Kwi sat a meter from the little monument.
Rini magnified the image. With a nod from Boro, he read.
“Satamia one-one-three-six, Sonmatia Four, marker four-seven. The Monuments of Zolko.”
Boro frowned. “Is that all it says?”
“That’s all we can read,” Sata said, looking at her display, “but Manessa just received a transmission from the monument. It’s the story of what happened here twenty thousand years ago!”
King Zolko struggled to pull enough air into his lungs as he sat on his throne and looked over the shriveled fruit and hard bread on the silver platter close at hand. For a moment he bristled, then relaxed as he remembered the even-poorer food in the marketplace these days. Several councilors sat in lesser chairs, also struggling to breathe while keeping their gaze respectfully low. Servants stood, hands behind their backs, trying to hide their discomfort.
The great doors at the far end of the hall opened, and a well-dressed man strode in. For a moment, harsh sunlight entered, along with some reddish-brown dust. The door guards quickly closed the doors and tried to muffle their coughing.
“Councilor Ganlo!” the king said with both a friendly greeting and frustration. “Why is the air so thin today? Did you speak to the priests and scholars?”
Ganlo stopped the proper distance from the throne and bowed. “I did, Your Majesty, as many as I could find. Some have abandoned their duties and
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left the city. The priests have been praying day and night, they say, and the scholars have searched every book. No one knows what else can be done to appease the gods.”
The king suddenly stood, his chin thrust forward. “The scholars have repeatedly stood before me and proclaimed that all important knowledge is in their books! I want all of you on the streets, searching for answers! I will not let this be the end of our great kingdom!”
The other councilors, most of them old men, started to rise.
“Sire, there is one other possibility,” Ganlo said, head half-bowed.
“Speak!”
“There is a woman in the marketplace. She calls herself a prophet, but the priests deny it. She says we need not fear, that the gods will save our kingdom by taking a few to a new land flowing with nut milk and honey. She gathers people around her to listen, and children sit in her lap and are comforted.”
The king stood thoughtfully, rubbing his chin. “How does she say the chosen few will be selected?”
“I do not know, Sire.”
“Go! All of you! Sit at her feet and listen, and come back in three days with what you learn!”
“Sounds like the atmosphere was getting thin twenty thousand years ago,”
Sata speculated.
Boro nodded. “I wonder what the puzzle is.”
“It’s probably like the story problem about Poki and his cows,” Mati proposed with a furrowed brow. “We won’t know until we hear the whole thing.”
The councilors of King Zolko listened to the prophet for two days, and when she was at table eating, or asleep, they questioned the priests and scholars further. Some of the councilors became convinced that the wrath of the gods could be appeased by great works. Others were not so optimistic, and tried to discover how the chosen few would be selected, as the king had ordered.
On the third day, Councilor Sarto crept away and sold all his property to
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hire a ship and many strong men. He believed the gods would look favorably on them if they found the most beautiful gemstone in the world and placed it in the temple. He carried books and maps from the great library, all telling him that such a gemstone could only be found across the sea, in the Desert of Bakka, somewhere along the eight degree line, for that was the number most sacred to the gods.
Also on the third day, Councilor Memna, the greatest politician in the kingdom and the king’s official speaker, slipped away from the group to sell all her property and hire a ship. “I shall create a city in the wilderness, seventy-six kilometers west by northwest of here. All who love the gods may come, bring their children, and help make a society of peace and harmony.
The gods will see our creation of love, smile upon us, and make the wind to blow and the rain to fall.”
Word spread rapidly, and when she arrived at the dock to board the ship, hundreds of people were already assembled and ready to follow, in rowboats if necessary.
“Yeah!” Boro cheered. “We’ve finally got some numbers we can use to find things! But there’s something Ilika or Kibi usually did that we need to do.”
Sata looked puzzled. “I don’t think we know enough yet.”
“Not enough to do the puzzle. But my stomach is telling me all I need to know about something else.”
Rini grinned. “Lunchtime!” he said and dashed for the galley.
On the evening of the third day, Ganlo and the few other remaining councilors entered the king’s hall.
“Your Majesty, we are divided on how the gods might be appeased. Sarto seeks the most beautiful gemstone. Memna plans to create a city of peace and harmony. The priests, however, are convinced that only great monuments would be pleasing to the gods, monuments bearing the likeness of the high kings, such as yourself, and the high priests . . .”
“But I sent you to learn how the chosen few will be selected!”
“We were able to discover little, Sire. The prophet only babbles about children and their pure hearts. I don’t think she knows.”
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The king questioned the other councilors. They were all in agreement with Ganlo, and could add little else. Silence prevailed in the great hall as the king rubbed his chin. Finally, he spoke. “So be it. Scribes!”
Two old men emerged from nearby rooms and sat down at writing desks.
“Let it be known that all men, and all women not with child, must report to the palace at sunrise every morning until suitable monuments have been raised to let the gods see the faces of all the high kings and high priests of the land.”
“But Sire,” Ganlo interrupted, “bringing that much stone from beyond the sea will take years.”
The king took a breath of the thin air. “Then we shall not use new stone.
We shall take down the buildings of the city, one by one. If necessary, only the foundation of the palace will be spared, a place for the gods to rest as they admire the beauty and grandeur of the Monuments of Zolko!”
“Talk about full of himself!” Sata sputtered.
“About the same as kings and priests on our world,” Rini observed.
Boro nodded. “I think . . . we’re sitting on the foundation of the palace. It seems . . . somehow wrong to park our ship where the gods were supposed to rest.”
Mati swiveled around. “Boro! Who do you think would have saved the children with pure hearts and taken them to a land of milk and honey?”
The bridge was completely silent for a long moment.
Rini swallowed before speaking. “Probably . . . the Nebador Transport Service.”
Deep Learning Notes
In most organizations, it is not considered desirable for the “workers” to function without their “bosses.” One reason is that most “workers” do not have the wisdom and experience to do so. What do we learn about Nebador when we see that the crew members are being trained to operate the ship without their usual commanders?
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It may seem strange to us that everything was assumed, by King Zolko and his people, to be the will of the god(s). Today, even most religious people believe that weather and climate events are natural. We have to remember that before science began to unravel the mysteries of nature (starting in about the year 1400), almost everything that didn’t have a clear human cause was assumed to be caused by divine intervention.
The story problem about Poki and his cows was in Book Two, chapter 35.
The number eight is sacred in one of our major religions, Buddhism. In the Judeo-Christian tradition, the numbers three and seven are sacred. The numbers four, five, and nine can also be found as sacred numbers in other religions.
In your opinion, was it okay for the Manessa Kwi to park on the stone foundation of the palace that was intended to be a resting-place for the gods?
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