NEBADOR Book Nine: A Cry for Help by J. Z. Colby - HTML preview

Chapter 86: New Arrivals

The situation on Thursday, the fourth of November, had not allowed nine-year-old Daphne, seventeen-year-old Alex, or Doctor Susan Bo-kamla, to get any of their things before stepping into the alien space ship. They had the clothes they were wearing, and whatever was in their pockets. Susan also had her shoulder purse, and Daphne wore a tiny belt pouch.

The flight had gone quickly. One moment they were chatting with each other in the front row of passenger seats, sharing names and a few details about their lives, then they all suddenly felt sleepy. Before they knew it, they were waking and their eyes were drawn to the big view screen where a huge sparkling crystal sphere floated in space, with a giant purple planet not far away.

After the ship navigated a maze of dark tunnels, the comfortable quarantine room welcomed them with a tasty spread of food and drink, and each new arrival had their own little sleeping room. The next two days, however, were frustrating because the leader — the short girl who spoke their language fairly well — asked everyone who knew it to quit speaking it.

They lost count, but during the next two days, while people and animals told stories and played games, the three new arrivals must have learned several hundred words in the language of Nebador.



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Doctor Susan Bo-kamla was not enjoying herself.

Learning languages had never been easy for her, and her so-so grades in the required foreign language in college had almost kept her out of graduate school.

Next, she had always assumed that animals had fleas and ticks, not to mention dirty, smelly fur. These animals seemed to be clean and bug-free, but she couldn’t stop herself from scratching and sneezing.

Finally, the girl in charge might have been mid-teens, but since she was short, Susan kept thinking ten or eleven. The psychologist couldn’t imagine someone so young leading a mission so . . .

Suddenly, on the last evening in quarantine, Susan caught herself thinking these thoughts, and realized she had just spent nine years of her life on a team led by someone she had come to respect more than anyone else in the world, and that person had started her leadership responsibilities at age seven.

She burst out crying, and Kibi came over to see if she could help.

Susan couldn’t find enough words in the new language to explain her distress, so Kibi just sat with the psychologist until she relaxed.

When the quarantine room doors were flung open on the third morning, Doctor Susan Bo-kamla stepped through with a much lighter heart, even though a large bird was waddling in front of her, a teenage mission leader walked beside, and a horse clopped along not far behind.



Alexander Po-nortan had grown up with a very different concept of what was out there than he was now seeing.

Actually, there were two concepts. He was, as most other young people, torn between the messages of science, and the stories of religion. But whichever one he picked, it didn’t match what he was seeing.

Science wanted him to think that nothing was out there, except the physical universe of stars, planets, and inter-stellar gases. Okay, maybe they’d throw in a little primitive life here and there, if you caught them in a good mood, but it could never get to Ko-tera, never make a crop circle, never . . .

land in Capital Park!

Religion insisted that everything was old, or at least old-fashioned. Old buildings, old language, old clothes, old people. Even the churches that tried

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to look and act modern, never quite succeeded. They took away the old decorations, but didn’t know how to get rid of the old attitudes.

Alex fussed and fumed for two days, trying to see how all the messages and stories from science and religion could fit with the reality around him. He thought about the golden ship still visible at dock, the star station he was now deep inside, and the people who might have hooves, paws, or flukes, as easily as hands and feet.

He

wanted it to somehow fit. He craved for at least one of the stories to be right — science or religion, he didn’t care.

During his last night in quarantine, he lay awake, toying with the idea of asking to go home, back to the comfort of believing something that wasn’t proven wrong everywhere he looked.

Then, as morning light crept into the room, he remembered a simple fact that he had forgotten. With the arrival of the golden ship at Capital Park, everyone back home was going through the same thing. Everyone on Ko-tera was struggling to understand why the old stories didn’t fit with the reality that had come knocking.

He couldn’t go back.

Here, he could learn what was really going on in the universe. He already knew from his rapidly-growing vocabulary that they did lots and lots of science here, and also that gods and angels were in charge. They didn’t call them that, but he knew.

And he was one of only two people who were getting to see what was really out here, and then return home to tell others. He’d tell Corky, Stephy, Benny, Mouse, and probably a million more people.

Suddenly he smiled, hopped out of bed, and got ready to go out and meet the universe.



On that same morning, Daphne was the last to awaken because she had been up late the night before laughing and talking with four people, a bird, a snake, and a tiger, all playing a board game. Also, she never heard anyone announce the breakfast cart, which had been her wake-up cue the first two mornings.

She lay blinking for a minute, then reached to the side table and grabbed

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her little belt pouch. Inside were a few coins, two coupons for free ice cream cones, and a worn and faded photograph of her family, taken at a two-hour visitation supervised by social workers the last time they had all been together.

The coins and coupons, she figured, wouldn’t be any good in her new home. Only the picture mattered.

She yawned and stretched, hopped up and pulled on her clothes, then opened the curtain of her little bedroom.

The big double doors to the quarantine room were open, and everyone from the ship was gone. But on one couch sat a lanky, furry mammal —

almost but not quite a monkey — with a knowledge pad in his lap.

“Good morning,” he said slowly in the language of Nebador. “I am the steward of the life-monitor ship Porensa Timala. The crew is gathering for breakfast in Violet Hall in a little while, and then we’ll be departing on a short mission. Upon Melorania’s recommendation, we would like to invite you to join us.”

Daphne figured out enough of his words to get the meaning, and smiled.



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Chapter 87: The Crew of the Manessa Kwi

The day following their release from quarantine, Kibi awoke early, kissed Ilika, and wiggled out of his arms. Something in a dream had warned her that not all was well in her galley.

As soon as she arrived on the upper deck, both her nose and her ship confirmed. “I am detecting an unusual level of certain gasses in the atmosphere,” the deep-space response ship began, “those usually associated with decomposition.”

“Thanks, Manessa. I can smell it too. Something . . . sweet. Fruit, I think.”

Kibi only had to open three cupboards before discovering the problem.

Thousands of tiny flies flew out into her face. “Yuk!” After waving away the flies, she quickly discovered the forgotten cluster of bananas in the very back of the cupboard. “From now on, I’m inspecting the galley myself before going into quarantine. How did the cleaning crew miss these?”

“Judging by my atmospheric records, the fruit did not start to decompose until after the cleaning crew had come and gone. I will send them a message so they will improve their practices.”

“A gentle message. If I get the bananas out, can you deal with the fruit flies?”

“Yes, I can purge the ship of drosophilae.”

“Thanks,

Manessa.”

“And thank you, Kibi.”

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

An hour later, Mati and Rini conspired to make a hearty breakfast, knowing it would be a busy day of de-briefing with the Education Service team, and tending their ship.

Boro could barely sit still as he inhaled his cereal and pinkfruit juice.

Sata looked at him. “I think we left all the ants back on Ko-tera Three, but it sure looks like you have some in your pants.”

Boro blushed. “Sorry. It’s just . . . there’s about five drops of thruster fuel on the ship right now, maybe just four, and I can feel in my bones that Melorania is aching to send us on another mission, especially since the last one wasn’t very hard.”

Sata’s face darkened. “Don’t forget the sacrifices Ss’klexna Rrr’tak’fi made for the ursines of Ko-tera Three, and that Temporandek Teacher made for the whole planet.”

Boro finally managed to sit still. “Yeah. I know.”



The pallet of supplies arrived two hours later, and everyone could see that Boro was relieved.

“The de-briefing is about to start,” the ship reminded them.

Sata looked at Boro with her head cocked.

“I’m okay now,” he assured her with a smile. “Just knowing the stuff’s on the ship makes me happy. We could stow it en route if we had to.”

Most in quiet moods, the crew members walked up ramps and along wide corridors toward the Mission Assignment Room. At one point, Toran Takil joined them, and a little later, Malika-Terno.

The tiger fell in beside Kibi. “I feel you are my equal now, and it will be an honor to serve with you on missions in the future. You are a feline-friend, have our respect and protection at all times and places, and that began long before you were marked by one of us on Ko-tera Three. I compliment you on all your decisions during the recent mission, especially the decision to respect Triss and her companion.”

Kibi reached up and touched the four scratches on her cheek, not yet completely healed, then put an arm around Toran Takil on one side, and Ilika on the other.

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Her lover slipped an arm around her back as they walked, and the tiger on the other side rumbled with contentment.



Malika-Terno clopped over beside Mati. “Do you remember how to be the hair on an equine’s back?”

Mati smiled, reached and sprang up, and a second later centered herself on the huge horse, but didn’t try sitting up or wrapping her legs around his belly. “How could I forget!”

“It is a good skill for any relationship between sapient creatures. Touch lightly, only when invited, and don’t try to own the other.”

“That was true with the wild equines, too.”

“They are no less sapient for being wild.”

After a moment, Mati nodded thoughtfully as they passed through a doorway that would have knocked her to the floor if she had been sitting up.



“Good morning, everyone,” Ashley began from the middle of the conference room. “I see I’m not the only scar-face in the room. Isn’t it nice knowing that signs of experience are actually valued here, unlike on most planets?”

Kibi grinned and nodded.

Trekila Spimalo squawked and lifted her fluke out of the water to show an old scar, and Toran Takil turned his head so the ragged tear on one ear could be seen.

Ashley smiled. “My dear Kolarrr’ka has a report from Ko-tera Three.”

“The planet is in chaos, bok, the good kind of chaos. Everyone is asking questions, especially young people. Those who would cling to the old ways, even if it destroyed the climate, are preparing to dig in their claws . . . or heels.

But those who don’t like the idea of handing their children a dying world are rising up. Many seeds were planted by the Temporandek Teacher, and many more will be sown by others like Susan and Alexander when they return in a year to help with leadership. After Daphne learns the basics on some easy missions, her life-monitor ship will be assigned to the planet for the duration of the crisis. The captain is very happy to have her on his crew, bok.”

Seeing that her dear avian friend was finished, T’sss’lisss stretched up

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from her coils. “Wasss the one who killed the Teacher ever found?”

“Bok. I don’t think . . .”

Suddenly, a glowing orange ball formed near the ceiling and floated downward, becoming an elderly reptile with wise old eyes as she settled to the floor, but still loomed over the mortals present.

“Greetingsss, Shemultavia!” the snake declared.

All three Education Service members, snake, bird, and monkey mammal, gathered at the reptile’s feet.

“Hello, my skillful ones. I’m sorry I was not here to speak with you as soon as you returned from your recent mission. I was on Kerusemia talking with Ss’klexna Rrr’tak’fi and Priscilla Ka-mentha, whom you know as the Temporandek Teacher. I think those two are going to be fast friends. Both are highly advanced in their spiritual growth, and will be progressing through the required studies and experiences very quickly.”

Sata

smiled.

“Ss’klexna sends a message, which I endorse. Worry not about the ursine who killed her, nor the human who killed the Teacher. Neither are relevant to the unfolding of the universe. Fear and hate always think they are in control, but never really are.”

Just then, a blue glow descended and became Melorania in human form.

The crew of the Manessa Kwi smiled and gathered close.

“What a precious monkey-mammal crew I have! Both Arantiloria and I are very pleased, almost amazed, at how well you operated your fine little ship and supported the Education Service on this mission.”

The six humans took a moment to bask in the warmth of the compliment.

“Want another one like it?”

“I knew it!” Boro burst out.

Melorania laughed deeply. “But Boro, you still have that little stash of thruster fuel on supply line fifteen!”

“And four canisters on a pallet!” he bragged with a grin.

“Hmm. I could tell Manessa to not use . . .”

Boro knitted his brow and looked daggers at the head of the transport service, causing her to laugh even more deeply.

After a moment, since everyone else in the room was howling with

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laughter, he softened his gaze. “I guess . . . you would never give us a challenge we couldn’t handle.”

“That’s right,” Shemultavia answered for both service heads. “There are enough dangers that arise unforeseen, like the deaths of your ursine friend and the Temporandek Teacher.”

Boro looked into the wise old eyes of both Shemultavia and Melorania, and nodded.



Once all the news about Ko-tera Three had been shared, the two service heads bowed and faded from sight to attend to the many other education and transport needs of Nebador.

Trekila Spimalo then announced that she was joining a mission to a world with water-quality problems everywhere, from tropics to poles, mountains to seas. Not long ago, the task would have seemed overwhelming, but now, she felt ready for it.

T’sss’lisss nodded with understanding.

Memsala the giant sea turtle also shared her new challenge — traveling between star stations, planet stations, and the local universe capital itself, to teach the teachers and make sure the Psychic Development programs didn’t get into any . . . psychic ruts.

Everyone laughed, and they could have sworn there was a smile on Memsala’s turtle face.

Eventually everyone shared parting words and touches, and the crew of the Manessa Kwi wandered back to their ship.



Arantiloria greeted them from the middle of the big table, her penetrating gaze nearly making them dizzy, as usual.

“Hi, Purple,” Kibi said before prancing into the galley for snacks. “I was wondering why you weren’t at the de-briefing.”

“I wish I could have been, but Melorania had me making arrangements for the next phase of your training.”

“Uh . . . oh . . .” Boro intoned softly.

The training specialist smiled. “As you know, in Nebador, teams that work well together and develop strong bonds, can stay together for as long as they

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want . . .”

“Like Ashley, Kolarrr’ka, and T’sss’lisss,” Rini guessed, taking a handful of gotaka nuts from the bowl Kibi slid onto the table.

“Very good example,” Arantiloria continued as the other crew members got comfortable in seats around her. “Cross-species relationships like that are rare, and very powerful because of their multiple points-of-view.

Well-bonded crews like yours have the advantages of collective intelligence and supportive affection.”

All six humans wore contented expressions as they pondered the deep comfort they experienced daily with each other and their beloved little ship.

“But . . .” Arantiloria added as her voice became firmer, “. . . it is time for all of you to experience life on other ships, working side-by-side with different creatures who are your fellow crew members, not just mission specialists.

Since you are the only human response-ship crew in Satamia, we need to keep Manessa operational, so I will re-assign only one of you at a time, and only for a few days. Sata, you are first.”

The youngest crew member swallowed.

“The navigator of the passenger transport Palantia Lisa is taking some time off for surgery and recovery, and you will be his replacement.”

Sata felt a little fear and much excitement. “That’s one of those huge ships, with hundreds of passengers, isn’t it?”

“Yes. You will have an assistant, a trainee, but you will be in charge and responsible for navigation and communications at all times. You start tomorrow morning, right after the party.”

Sata reached over to the next seat and took Boro’s hand. “I’ll miss my family on the Manessa Kwi . . . but I see how it’ll be good for me. I’ve always had a little fear of . . . you know . . . leaving home. I guess it’s time to prove to everyone . . . and myself . . . that I can do it whenever I want to or need to . . .

then come back!”

The mysterious training specialist smiled.



Within a few hours, every inch of the ship had been stocked for their next mission, whatever it might be. Boro was especially happy to see his racks of fuel canisters, all seven kinds, completely full. Kibi was prepared to feed just

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about anyone who might walk, fly, swim, or slither aboard. Only the very longest missions to the remotest corners of Nebador would require extra provisions at the last minute.

Kibi and Ilika agreed that the ship was completely ready for service, and the ship communicated the fact to the Mission Assignment Room.

In their cabin, as Sata packed a bag, Boro hovered near. He wanted to say a number of things, but didn’t find the words, so he waited until she was all packed, wrapped his arms around her, and just whispered, “I’ll be here.”

She kissed him deeply, then whispered, “You’d better be!”

When they finally parted and looked at each other, Boro found his words.

“Um . . . who you gonna be sharing a cabin with?”

Sata grinned. “A bird.”

They both laughed.

“Shall we . . . go help with party set-up?”

“Yeah!”



The six went different ways when they got to Satamia Star Station’s main hall, with Mati and Rini prancing away to help with decorations, Boro and Sata heading for one of the kitchens that always needed help, and Ilika and Kibi assisting some reptile musicians with drums and other instruments.

Not much later, Mati was on fanator-back hanging lights that were actually little glowing creatures, when she spotted Daphne below helping a furry mammal with trays of drinks.

After Ilika set down a small drum beside the huge ones that only the reptiles could lift, he noticed Alexander moving furniture with an ursine in another part of the hall.

Boro and Sata, working to assemble tasty finger foods, both smiled and offered simple words of greeting when Doctor Susan Bo-kamla appeared with a cart to collect the trays. She smiled shyly, and seemed a bit overwhelmed until Healer Dakalio showed up with another cart. Together, they returned to the hall to set out the goodies.



The evening dance party on Satamia Star Station began with a lively mood.

Many missions to troubled planets had recently returned with good results,

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and most of the Services, from Education to Laboratory, Medical to Transport, Culinary to Psychic Development, were well-staffed with bright and creative Nebador citizens.

At a pause after a relaxing song, Kerloran became a green glow near the ceiling that changed into an olive-skinned man wearing simple robes as he slowly descended to the floor. Everyone found places to perch or float.

“It is my happy honor to welcome the visiting students from the local universe of Risador . . .”

A group of strange creatures, about halfway between animal and plant, waved their tentacles and made humming sounds from where they clung to a branch of the great station tree. The Nebador citizens welcomed them with many joyful noises and gestures.

“And a special circumstance has been granted,” Kerloran continued, “for two teachers from Ko-tera Three to gain all the wisdom they can before returning, a year from now, to tackle the most difficult transition their planet will ever face.”

Alex stood and waved willingly, but Susan had to be prodded by Dakalio before finding her courage. They received just as hearty a welcome.

“Now we have some business that is much darker and less hopeful . . .”

A rumble coursed through the huge room, as Kerloran rarely brought serious topics to the evening party.

“It has been rumored that my patience is infinite,” he continued in a somber tone.

Nervous laughs escaped a few of the listeners.

“Unfortunately, it is not.”

Silence

prevailed.

“Twice before in the long stretches of eternity, I have exhausted all hope of guiding a planet of sapient beings from the darkness of self-destruction, toward the light of sustainable balance in all things. The first was insect, the second mammal. It has happened again, this time on a world of avians. I say this so you know it can happen to any type of creature.”

A few murmurs began, but quickly faded away.

“Those of you involved with missions to this world know how hard we tried.”

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Many heads throughout the room, mostly avian, nodded.

“When the gods give up on a world, as the wisest of you know, we declare it an Isolated Experimental Planet. A council of mortals is formed to . . .

attempt whatever comes to mind, and, if nothing else, learn all they can in the process.”

The murmur that followed sounded slightly more hopeful than earlier.



Mati, snuggling on a couch with her beloved, didn’t pay much attention to the list of thirty names that Kerloran announced . . . until the last three.

“. . . Memsala, Drrrim-na, and Rini. These councilors will continue all their regular activities, but meet at least yearly to share any insights they have had . . .”

Mati turned and looked at Rini.

He shrugged. “I’ve heard of that planet, but don’t know much about it.

Kinda sounds like fun.”

She kissed him. “You get to try where Kerloran, and everyone else, failed!”

“It’ll probably take the rest of my life just to think of something that hasn’t been tried.”

Mati laughed and hopped up as a lively dance tune began.

Rini shuddered for a moment at the thought of having god-like powers and responsibilities for an entire planet, then put it out of mind and followed Mati to the dance floor.



Two pleasant days passed on Satamia Star Station before the Manessa Kwi’s next mission. Boro missed Sata, but knew she was learning many new things, and that his turn would come soon enough. All five were able to get back to their Psychic Development classes, or spend serious study time with ship cross-training materials.

When Arantiloria explained their next assignment, they noticed some ways it was like the mission to Ko-tera Three, but were also glad of its relaxed pace.

A scouting phase came first, with just the crew poking around on the planet, at a late-medieval stage in its history.

The most critical task was contact with a secret society that had kept science and philosophy alive all during a long dark age. Since the dominant

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monkey-mammal population still believed that only adult male citizens, twenty years and older, could take part in business and politics, Ilika was clearly the scout on this occasion.



Just before dawn light crept into the sky, the Manessa Kwi, with Kibi at the helm, descended slowly and quietly down through the trees into a small clearing in the forest, as close as it could get to the meeting coordinates.

In a dark cloak with hood up, Ilika stepped through the hatch onto soggy wet grass, and his ship silently departed.

As he tried to take a step, his boot made a sucking sound as it pulled free of the sticky mud, and he quickly realized why no trees grew in the clearing.

With a little dawn light gathering in the sky, he set his sights on slightly higher ground, then labored to take each step through the watery black ooze.

To his relief, he was soon able to pull himself onto solid ground with the help of a small tree.

Not far away, two equines lifted their heads and looked at him while still chewing grass. A little apart from them, another horse looked up, a stallion.

The larger horse began advancing toward the newcomer.

Ilika touched his mission bracelet. “This is starting to look — and feel —

very familiar. Are you sure this isn’t Sonmatia Three, the swamp near the capital city of your former kingdom?”

Rini, at navigation, chuckled. “No, Ilika. By my charts, Sonmatia is about forty light-years from here.”

“Your good weather looks like it will hold,” Boro said from the watch station.

“Remember,” Mati said from engineering, “you’re not alone anymore.

We’ll just kick back at the top of a mountain, or the bottom of a lake, and wait for your call.”

Kibi, the acting captain, spoke from the helm. “Is there a problem? Do you need us to come get you?”

The stallion stepped up to Ilika, knelt and lowered his haunches to the ground, then spoke. “We are honored to have your guidance at this critical time for the monkey-mammal culture that fancies itself intelligent and wise.

If it pleases you, I will convey you to our secret meeting hall.”

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Ilika let out the breath he had been holding, then spoke into his bracelet again. “No, I’m okay, and it appears this planet has some very good things going for it . . .”



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Part 9: Ko-tera Three, 3683

Chapter 88: An Old Facility on a Forgotten Back Road The bleating of goats echoed in the concrete parking garage as Brian, sporting an untrimmed beard and the slight wrinkles of middle age, finished milking the last nanny. “Okay, Pipi, go play.”

The leggy goat pranced away as soon as her collar was unhooked.

Brian stood and poured the contents of the milking bucket into a filter cone perched atop a glass jar.

Just then, Susan appeared in the doorway from upstairs, still brushing her hair that included several streaks of gray. “Almost a half-gallon!” she remarked. “The children will love some when they get here.”

“It’s the rain we’ve been getting. I want to let the goats out into the pasture right away. Which group of children is coming today?”

Susan took over the filtering process and capped the jar. “Lisa’s group.

She’s become such a good caregiver since leaving the military and opening her house to strays who are determined to survive the Change, even if their parents aren’t.”

“The

government certainly isn’t much help.”

The older lady nodded, then carefully carried the jar of precious warm milk upstairs.

Brian stepped to a make-shift hand crank on the wall, and the old security gate creaked as it slid open a few feet. “Come on, goaties, let’s go see what’s

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sprouting in the pasture . . .”



The road, now covered with dirt, goat droppings, and weeds, quickly became a walking path toward town, and completely faded into the green hills in the other direction.

Brian strolled the entire perimeter of the goat pasture as he scanned for predators and picked wild flowers. Only one coyote required a stone from his slingshot. It yapped and limped away.

Brian turned his attention to the two memorials beside the old road.

A circle of stones marked the place where a golden ship had landed on three occasions, twice on one fateful day in the fall of 3671, and a third time a year later. No one knew if that golden ship would ever return, but the circle was now a sacred place, just as was another, two thousand miles away, in Capital Park.

A few yards outside the stone circle, Brian knelt before the concrete and brass grave marker and arranged the wild flowers at its base. “Good morning, Priscilla. The goats are happy today, and Lisa is expected with her little troop of children. We got last month’s newspaper yesterday, and it said they think we’ve dropped another part per million of CO2, but aren’t sure yet. Sam and Sarah are on the list to get a ride up here in a bicycle carriage, but the list is long, so they sent another letter up with George last week, and Susan and I are working on a letter back to them.”

He blinked several times to clear his eyes. “I’d better go check the garden for rabbits.”

After lingering another moment and lovingly touching the cool concrete, he rose and strode toward the fenced area beside the old building, glancing up at the bars of the open-air patio where a girl once fed birds and watered plants.



The seven children arrived mid-morning, excitedly dashing in through the open front door and bounding up the stairs. Lisa arrived about a minute later and climbed to the upper level more slowly, then stood breathing deeply while the children began chattering.

“What’s for lunch?”

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“Me and Gina are learning how to multiply!”

“We brought five potatoes!”

“Any new goat kids born?”

“What’re we gonna learn today?”

Although the parking garage was now a barn for animals and garden supplies, the upper level of the old facility was arranged just as it had been during the eight years that Priscilla led the P-Seventeen team. Twenty-one years of intense use had left carpets soiled, hardwood floors scuffed, furniture badly worn, and paint peeling, but the place was as lovingly cared for as the remaining technology allowed. An old broom leaned against the office counter, and hearing the children, Susan emerged from the kitchen carrying a wash bucket and rag.

“Hello, young ones! Hi, Lisa! Did you guys have a fun hike?”

“We

started

early,” a boy about nine revealed, rolling his eyes.

“We picked berries on the way,” a ten or eleven-year-old girl explained, “so we’re not as hungry as last time.”

“How does fresh goat milk sound?” Susan asked with a smile.

“Yum!” they all declared and followed her into the dining room.



When the facility was a high-security safe house and classified meeting location, the kitchen had been stocked from the supermarket. Now, it more closely resembled a homestead kitchen of a century earlier, with herbs

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hanging from hooks in the ceiling, thinly-sliced fruits and vegetables spread out on screens to dry, and jars of canned or dried food stacked everywhere.

The big, shiny refrigerators were just storage cabinets, and the stove, once powered by bottled Methane gas, now held an old barbeque base, with a box of broken sticks on the floor beside.

Gina, about twelve, carefully brought the five small potatoes out of her daypack. “This is all we could spare.” She glanced at Susan with a worried look.

“That’s okay. While I’m teaching, Brian’s gonna make a soup, and he can use these to thicken it into a hearty stew!”

Gina

relaxed.

Just then, the bearded man entered the room dangling the limp form of a small wild rabbit. “It’ll be even better, considering what I just caught trying to eat up our garden!”

All the children clapped and cheered at the thought of rabbit stew.



“You keep saying the Change was the best thing that ever happened to us,”

eleven-year-old Jason challenged with a broken voice from one of the old plush chairs in the meeting circle, “but that’s so hard to believe when we look at pictures of the cars people used to zoom around in, the shopping malls where kids hung out, and the food they used to eat, almost like a feast every meal!”

“And that telephone in the museum,” Gina added, pointing to the old general’s office, “that used to let you talk to anyone in the world! ”

Another hand, attached to eight-year-old Penny, shot into the air. “And that ‘lectric typewriter that could write a whole sentence all by itself!”

“You have to step way back,” Susan began from another plush chair, “and look at it from the outside — something Priscilla taught us well. Only then can you see that the fancy things we had were leading us down a dead-end road.

It takes energy to make all that fancy stuff, and grow all that food, for billions and billions of people. Releasing energy makes pollution, and on every planet, that comes back to bite you . . .”

“Please tell us about other planets!” a nine-year-old boy begged.

“I can’t. I’ve never seen any, except one purple gas giant from a distance.

NEBADOR Book Nine: A Cry for Help 455

But what I do know is that every planet is the same in one way. The people on them, when they get smart enough to make cars, shopping malls, and all that other fun stuff, either keep it in balance with the ecosystem of the planet, or they kill themselves.”

A long moment of tense silence lingered.

“It’s been twelve years since the ship came and the Tempor . . . something

. . . Teacher died,” Gina remembered. “I was born that year. Now we’re seven years into the Change. Are we back in balance?”

“The Plague a few years ago helped a lot . . .” Susan began, but stopped when she saw several of the children close their eyes tightly.

“That’s what got my parents,” Penny said with pouting lips and wet eyes.

“My father and my grandmother,” Jason added.

Gina sniffled. “My mom and my best friend.”

Susan waited until they had recovered, then continued very softly.

“Priscilla used to show us a little matrix that explained our options . . .”

“Half a billion cave people or peasants . . .” Jason said from memory.

Gina brightened. “Or maybe a little high-efficiency modern stuff.”

Susan nodded. “The Plague got us about half-way down to the number of people this planet can support, now we have to do the rest.”

Then she took on a stern expression, one she had seen on Priscilla’s face many times, but didn’t know she, Doctor Susan Bo-kamla, was capable of until her year on Satamia Star Station. “So any of you dreaming of having lots of babies, or fancy stuff, or feasts more than about four times a year, had better keep all that in your dreams, or you will become the worst enemies of the human race . . .”



Soup would have been a fancy meal. With the potatoes added, the resulting stew was nearly a feast. When they came to the small bits of rabbit meat, the children thought they had somehow become kings and queens.

Retired General George Ba-kerga arrived, walking stick in hand, half-way through the meal. Brian scraped the stew pot for him.

“So, young ones,” the general began with a stern voice but smiling eyes,

“report your recent productive activities.”

Several of the children giggled.

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Gina got serious. “I read to the others for an hour almost every morning, then work in the garden for a couple of hours. In the afternoon I have a job at the trading post, and I get paid in food to take home to everyone, usually dried fish.”

“Good, good. And you, young man?”

Jason cleared his throat. “After chores and lessons, I fix things — or try.

People bring me things that don’t work and I see what I can do. Electronic stuff — forget it unless I have another one and can swap parts. I have the most luck with simple machines.”

The retired general nodded and his wrinkled old eyes gleamed with pride.



While Lisa and her troop studied ecology with Susan, Brian and George sat on old wooden boxes watching the goats graze.

“That part-per-million of CO2 we thought we lost turned out to be a mistake,” the older man revealed. “Just a seasonal variation.”

“Damn.”

“Don’t lose hope. At least it didn’t go up.”

“Yeah. I just want so badly for Priscilla’s death to be worth something.”

“Me too,” George said with a sigh.

Brian chewed on a blade of grass for a minute. “Lisa’s children are strong.”

“She doesn’t let them think for a second they’ll have easy lives. One boy thought he was entitled to special treatment. Lisa sent him packing.”

Brian chuckled. “An unexpected advantage of Priscilla hooking up with the military.”

“It’s a good thing we can contribute something to the Change. All our guns and bombs certainly weren’t much use when the real problem came knocking

. . .”



At a mid-afternoon break, the children dashed into the ravine behind the building to look for berries and lizards, and the adults gathered in the garden to pull weeds and pick off leaf-eating bugs.

“Are they learning their lessons well?” George asked with his firm tone of voice.

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Susan smiled. “Some of them. The youngest two will have to hear it many more times . . .”

“Heck,” Lisa slipped in, “I’ll have to hear it many more times!”

Susan laughed. “And so did I at . . . that beautiful place they took me and Alex.”

“Alex . . .” Brian repeated thoughtfully. “The Change wouldn’t have been possible without him, would it?”

George snorted. “We’d still be forming committees to study the issue, and mostly denying the whole thing, if President Alexander Po-nortan hadn’t framed it like he did.”

“A living world for your children, or a barren desert. Your choice. I’m just the president,” Lisa quoted from memory.

George nodded. “He was the first president to step back and make Congress actually represent the people.”

“Do you think he knew someone would assassinate him?” Brian asked anyone who cared to speculate.

Susan scrunched her face for a moment. “I think he knew it was a strong possibility.”

“I know this sounds terrible,” George added, “but the Change may not have been possible without his death, just as Priscilla’s warning may not have been possible without another president’s death many years earlier . . .”



Afternoon climatology lessons were winding down in the classroom circle when the aroma of pan biscuits started coming from the dining room.

Eventually, twelve-year-old Gina asked the toughest question of the day.

“Okay, so if we can’t be sure about CO2 yet, and we’re still maybe twenty-five years from the Methane tipping point and hope to never see it, is there anything we can look at that will give us hope that the world won’t burn up in our lifetimes?”

Susan took a slow, deep breath, and was painfully aware that everyone was looking at her, including Lisa and George. “Yeah, there is, but it’s not exactly a scientific measurement, and we . . . sort of . . . learned about it by accident.”

Everyone continued to look at her.

“After Priscilla was killed, the Star Girl said they were there to arrange for

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the evacuation of other sapient creatures ten years later if we didn’t quit harming Mother Ko-tera. We don’t know exactly what species she was talking about, but we do remember who was on that ship with us . . .”

“Horse, tiger, dolphin, sea turtle, snake, and bird,” Jason said, remembering an earlier lesson.

Susan nodded. “Twelve years have now passed, and even though we can’t be sure what it means, at least some of each of those animals are still here . . .”



As the sun was nearing the western horizon, George said good-night after a dinner of soup and biscuits. Several of the children wouldn’t let him get away without giving him hugs, and he fussed and grumbled, but the other adults could tell he loved it. He got his walking stick, and after a moment alone at the concrete and brass memorial on the other side of the road, set his feet on the trail to town.

The children were still full of energy, so Susan looked at Brian, busy cleaning up the kitchen. “Do we have enough electricity for the kids to dance a few songs?”

After wiping his hands, he wandered out to the office. Two adults and seven youth followed. He frowned as he gazed at the meters and switches on a home-made electrical panel beside a shelf of big batteries, the kind that once ran the lights in trailers and boats, but now were almost impossible to get.

“With the cloudy weather we’ve had for several days — the answer is no for Priscilla’s big old sound system . . .”

Several young faces fell.

“. . . but yes for the small tape player.”

“Whoopee!” they cheered and began prancing and spinning long before they got to the dance studio and Susan started the music.



Hours later, the full darkness of night cloaked the green hills, coyotes yapped as they searched for something to eat, and the goats were glad of the steel bars that protected the old parking garage.

The children lounged around the big classroom, three reading books under the single working floor lamp, two playing a card game on the floor nearby, and the youngest two just yawning on the old, worn couches.

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The adults sat around a table in the dining room with mugs of tea, but didn’t have any sugar or honey to sweeten it.

“I’m so glad you guys decided to buy this place when the military started selling things off,” Lisa commented.

“We couldn’t have done it without Priscilla’s money,” Brian admitted.

“We got a little for my house,” Susan added, “but the economy was in such bad shape that hardly anyone was buying houses.”

Lisa smiled. “That’s what allowed me to get a house with that gold I bought on a tip from Priscilla!”

The other two chuckled.

After a minute, Lisa became serious again. “Malcolm would have loved this place — memorial, museum, and learning center — still doing something important even after most of the old federal government shut down. Too bad he didn’t live long enough to see it.”

Susan nodded. Brian remained silent.

“He was the first one to realize Priscilla was something special,” Lisa continued, “and not just a spy because she knew some lousy rocket was gonna blow up.”

Brian chuckled, imagining his beloved at age seven speaking very assertively to General Malcolm Ko-fenral.

The silence lingered as they sipped their tea.

“Go fish!” a girl blurted out in the classroom.

After another sip of tea, Lisa found her courage. “Do you think we’ll make it? Will we get through the Change alive? Do my kids have any future?”

Susan looked over the rim of her mug while taking a sip, hoping that Lisa had directed the question to Brian. No such luck. She swallowed and took a deep breath.

“I know we can do it. It’s been done many times before. Remember, this is something that every intelligent, sapient race goes through.”

Lisa

nodded.

“The Plague,” Susan went on, “got most of the elderly, the obese, and those in poor health. I think malnutrition will whittle down the rest, especially those in places where not much food grows, and who can’t migrate.”

Brian blinked several times.

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“The danger, of course, is that a generation or two from now people will forget the reasons we aren’t using coal, oil, and gas, and decide they’re tired of hard living. They’ll open the valves, and a few decades later, we’ll hit that Methane tipping point, and then . . .”

“Alex’s

barren desert option,” Brian finished for her.

Susan nodded. “Your children, Lisa, are in the best possible situation to survive and be happy. They don’t remember the easy living, you’re teaching them self-discipline all the time, and they’re learning the reasons the planet can’t support a global, urban, industrial civilization.”

“I’m doing my best,” Lisa offered. “If I learned anything from Priscilla during all those years, it’s that you do the job you’re handed, whether the end is sweet or bitter.”

Susan and Brian both nodded.

After another sip of tea, Susan spoke again. “The ultimate answer to your question, Lisa, is not mine to know. Only time will tell . . .”



Not much later, the oldest children wandered into the dining room while yawning and rubbing their eyes. The younger ones were already curled up on couches.

“We’re sleepy. Can we go down to the bomb shelter now?” Gina asked.

“I don’t know, can you?” Lisa asked back. “You know where it is.”

“But me and Jason can’t carry the others — they’re too heavy.”

“Then I guess you’ll have to wake them up and help them down those steep stairs, one at a time.”

Gina sighed, then smiled.



Lisa, after discreetly watching to make sure her charges got downstairs safely, made herself comfortable in the small sleeping room. Susan retired to her room that had once been the large safe-house sleeping room.

Brian wandered around the building, made sure the fire in the kitchen was out, and checked on the goats in the old parking garage.

Eventually, back upstairs, he took a long look at the old meeting circle where a girl had given the world a warning and a chance to survive.

In his room, he couldn’t suppress a huge yawn, but took a moment to step

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onto the open-air patio. Several plants needed watering almost daily, some of which had been potted twenty-one years before. He felt a moment of regret that he didn’t have any seed to put in the bird feeder.

Finally, he crawled into the large bed, the place in the world where he could feel closest to his beloved. “Good night, Priscilla,” he mumbled as he wrapped his arms around a pillow and drifted into sleep.

Good night, my love. The timeline has changed, and I will watch over you, always.



Afterthoughts

The planet Ko-tera Three may be a mirror into which we are invited to look, but it will probably appear, to most people, dark and smoky. If the smoke in that mirror ever clears, which could happen very quickly, we will wish for a child with a lifetime of memories, and a golden deep-space response ship, but may very well discover that they are all busy elsewhere.

Ultimately, I’m glad that the long-term future of Ko-tera Three was not mine to know and write about. The future of our own similar predicament is also not mine to know.

We may have sealed our fate by using up the 40 years since we got our warning (back in the 1970’s). During that time, we succeeded in giving a fair fraction of the human race the lifestyles that only kings and queens of old enjoyed. Perhaps that is natural for any intelligent species. I speculate in the NEBADOR stories that some sapient creatures heed the warnings and do what is necessary to get their societies into balance with the climates and ecosystems of their planets, but I don’t really know.

There is no shame in belonging to a species that cannot “rule the Earth”

forever. We have lots of company. Every type of creature has its limitations, and every species tends to get out-of-balance with its environment when life, for any reason, becomes too easy.

Individuals, like you and me, are always free to transcend what the

“average” person thinks and does, and what society, corporations, and the governments “say” we should think and do. That’s called spiritual growth. In the end, all that matters is what each of us takes with us in our hearts, minds, and souls. Societies, civilizations, empires, and entire species come and go, always have, and probably always will. Nebador, or whatever you would like to call it, watches over them and guides them, but is most interested in that rare, special person who never quits learning.

If even one young person, like maybe you, gains a good understanding from the NEBADOR stories of the differences between good and evil, balance and imbalance, true sapience and mere sentience, then I will have succeeded in my mission.

Farewell!

J. Z. Colby

2015

About the Author

Born in the Mojave Desert, J. Z. Colby now lives and writes deep in a forest of the Pacific Northwest.

He has studied many subjects, formally and informally, including psychology, philosophy, education, and performing arts, but remains a generalist. His primary profession as a mental health therapist, specializing with families and young adults, gives him many stories of personal growth, and the motivation to develop his team of young critiquers and readers.

All his life, he has been drawn toward a broad understanding of human nature, especially those physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual situations in which our capacity to function seems to reach its limits. He finds fascinating those few individuals who can transcend the limits of our common human nature and the dictates of our cultures.