Alpha Rising (29 page)

Bach stared at her. “Boy, someone up there
likes you. Are all your requests answered on the spot?”

He didn’t see her satisfied smile behind her
snow-covered headgear. “Only the important ones.”

The bleak, bitter-cold surroundings took on
a fantasy look as the gentle snowfall and beams of light breaking
through made it seem as if a band of winter sprites had danced
across the land, frosting everything with shimmery icicles and
turning evergreens into ice castles.

“
It’s beautiful, but way
too cold,” Bach said.

“
And no signs of anything
or anyone,” Star added. “But who’d be out in weather like this
anyway?”

“
Crazies like us.” He
dipped down and picked up a gloveful of snow, scrunched it into a
snowball, dropped back, then scored a direct hit on her
backside.

She gasped in surprise and brushed herself
off with a confused stare.

Eyes riveted to his target, grin not showing
behind his headgear, Bach scooped another handful. His second
effort splattered off Star’s knees in a spray of white.

Her hesitation quickly gave way to a
childlike squeal as she dove for a handful of snow and returned
fire with a wad that disintegrated before impact.

Bach laughed out loud and sauntered to his
crewmate’s side. “This,” he said, squeezing snow into a ball and
bouncing it up and down in his hand with a mischievous grin, “is a
snowball. And it’s time you had a lesson in the joys and perils of
snowball fighting.” He stockpiled an arsenal for Star’s use, then
darted away and knelt to ready his own stash.

Whap! Whap! One snowball after another
plastered the unprepared victim. Star howled with delight at her
marksmanship.

Bach’s return fire launched a dozen snow
missiles in her direction.

Star rallied with a furious barrage. One
splatted full-force onto Bach’s faceplate.

With the unexpected yowl of a wounded
animal, he staggered about with arms groping, then flopped to the
ground and went still as a stone.

She stared for a moment then called out,
“Bach?”

No answer.

She rushed to him calling, “Bach? Bach! Are
you okay?”

No sound or movement.

Horrified, she whispered, “What have I done?
I didn’t know they were dangerous.” She knelt at his side, cradled
his head on her lap and brushed the snow from his faceplate. His
eyes were closed and his mouth open in a zero expression. Holding
him close, she rocked back and forth. “Oh, Bach. I’m so sorry … I
didn’t mean to hurt you.” She looked around for help and started to
get up. “I’ll find help.”

“
Gotcha,” he growled,
wrestling her to the ground and piling snow on her flailing
body.

Her shriek, cough, and gasp for breath all
came at once. When her enchanting blue eyes opened, Bach’s handsome
face was inches from hers—separated by the transparent headgear.
For a moment in time, through softly falling snow, they gazed at
each other with unspoken affection.

Grappling with the attraction, Bach sprang
to his feet, grabbed a fistful of snow, and made one final
toss.

Laughing, Star fired a torrent of snowballs
in his direction. “Meanie.” She stopped suddenly and turned around.
“Listen. Do you hear something … like a motor?”

He lifted his headgear slightly. “A hum.
Something electrical.”

The veil of snow concealed distant objects,
but the sound carried through the crisp air and gave them a
direction to follow to the left. About a quarter mile ahead where
everything was crystal-coated and white, a tiny halo of yellow
light flickered with the motor’s hum. They picked up the pace and
hurried toward the sound, but a minute later the motor died, the
light went out, and the vision faded away.

“
Keep looking at that spot,
there’s someone there,” Bach said.

They hastened onward, and little by little,
a two-story brick building came into view.

“
That’s the supply station
built for the co-op exchanges,” Star said.

As they neared the building, Bach noticed
what looked like a community of igloos beyond the supply station.
He pointed it out to Star. “A residential area.”

“
Ice houses, like the one
in the E-module,” she said.

He laughed. “Ice houses? Or … igloos?”

*****

Bach and Star entered the darkened supply
station where four couples were huddled in a circle on the
cluttered floor bartering furs by lamplight. The traders didn’t
seem to notice the new arrivals, and a shopkeeper hurrying around
lighting oil lamps said nothing. Bach had expected to see Eskimos,
but instead found the “remarkable resemblance” spelled out in the
journal’s notes manifest in the residents as common round faces
with downturned eyes, and plump bodies with small hands and feet,
like people on Earth with Down syndrome.

Star crouched beside the fur traders. “Do
you have severe storms here often?” The preoccupied men and women
didn’t answer. She took off her headgear and stood with Bach. “I
wish they’d talk to us.”

The shopkeeper moved toward the Alphamates
with an empty lantern. “First our power went down, then generators
ran out of fuel in the storm. Wish I could get more fuel from
Rooks.”

Bach stopped him. “Fuel from Rooks? Dura
provides your fuel—we made those generators.”

“
Rooks take your fuel, give
us better.”

“
The Rooks take our fuel?
Do you know when they’re coming back?”

“
Don’t know.” The man
hurried off and added logs to three fireplaces.

Bach gnashed his teeth. “That irks me about
the Rooks trading their fuel for ours. They think they’ll find
something of benefit in our standard fuel, but they won’t.”

Star changed the subject. “I hope they find
fuel soon. Those fireplaces won’t keep this big store warm for
long.”

The bartering couples displayed their furs
and blankets on the floor as Bach watched from above. There seemed
little chance of finding a symbol on their dark, unadorned
clothing. But minutes later when one of the couples spread their
pelts side by side in a circular pattern, Bach motioned for Star to
have a look.

“
Only three lines
intersecting,” she whispered.

Bach crouched down and waited for a lull in
the traders’ haggling. “We’re looking for…” he motioned for Star to
bend down, then pointed to the symbol formed by her necklaces,
“something that looks like this. Have you seen this symbol
anywhere?”

All shook their heads.

A door swung open in the rear of the
building and a short, stocky woman with pale skin and long blond
hair came from the back room. She walked right up to Bach and Star.
“I wish to serve you warm drinks, but power is out. Tobit trying to
find more fuel.”

“
Tobit?” Bach
asked.

The woman motioned toward the dark-haired
male shopkeeper. “My mate.” She turned to walk away, but Star
stopped her.

“
Where will you go if Tobit
doesn’t find fuel? You can’t stay here. It will turn cold
quickly.”

The woman replied, “We will stay with
friends in their igloo.”

Relieved to learn that the shopkeepers had
alternate shelter, Star had more to ask. “I know there are long
periods of dark and light on Shushan,” she said to the lady. “The
sky is bright now, but I feel like it should be late. Is this your
early or late time?”

“
It is late.”

“
When will the others come
out of their homes? We need to talk to them.”

The woman shook her head. “Most are
sleeping. Storm halted fishing—even fishermen sleep now.”

Tobit motioned to the traders to gather
their furs from the floor and waved his hand at Bach at the same
time. “Come back tomorrow, everyone. Time to go home. No power,
closing time for Zerah and me.”

Star picked up her headgear and looked at
Bach. “We’ll have to go door to door for our search.”

He sighed, then shook his head. “And it’s
their bedtime.”

They left the store and traveled over mounds
and moguls on the way to the igloo community. An off-key song
drifted from under Bach’s headgear. “Oh, where, oh, where, can our
hope symbol be?”

Nearing the igloos, Bach noticed movement a
few yards ahead. A large ice-block door slid outward on one home
and a man and woman emerged with several bags of trash, which they
deposited into a holding compartment. “Let’s go,” Bach yelped to
Star as he ran ahead and called out, “Wait. Stop. How long will
everyone sleep?”

“
We sleep until the bells,”
the woman said. Her frosty breath almost obscured her
face.

“
Bells? What kind of bells?
Church bells?” asked Bach.

“
Just bells.”

“
Are there church services
somewhere?”

The pair entered their igloo and the man
replied, “No more.” He pulled the ice block into the opening behind
them.

Bach sat on a snow mound and glanced around.
“We have to find out about the bells. When are they rung and what
happens next?”

The silent, cold, igloo community, and the
frigid planet’s all-white environment, stifled any hope of finding
a symbol.

“
Sure wish someone else
would come out,” he said. “I don’t want to wake them
all.”

Star stepped onto an icy mound to look
beyond the igloos. “The only thing around is the supply station.
But remember the lady said that the storm halted the fishing? Now
that the worst is over, maybe the fishermen will be out again.
Let’s look for a lake.”

The door of another igloo slid open and a
gloved hand set an empty lantern outside. Bach ran ahead and rushed
to the igloo. “Wait! We need your help.” He got on his hands and
knees in front of the door. Star knelt beside him. A man peered
out, and a woman looked over his shoulder. Bach pointed to the
crossed-circle formed by Star’s pendants. “Do you know anyone with
something that looks like this?”

“
No,” said the man, looking
at his mate as if to ask her the question. She shook her head, and
the two backed inside and slid the door closed.

“
Wait!” Bach banged hard on
the ice door with his gloved fist. “Where can we find the lake? I
know there’s a lake somewhere.”

Muffled words seeped through the thick
walls. “Go to supply station.”

“
We’ve been to the supply
station.”

There was no reply.

“
That must be the central
meeting place,” Star said. “Maybe they’ll gather there after they
wake up. Let’s head back and look for a lake as we go.”

Halfway back to the supply station, Bach
pointed out what looked like a partially frozen lake off to the
left. The two scrambled over dozens of moguls, but as they neared,
the image blended in with the surroundings. What had seemed a
smooth, dark lake was nothing more than a crater and shadows at
play. Bach grumbled, “A mirage!”

From the frosty quiet emerged a distant
sound of hammers or axes striking a hard surface. Within seconds
the number of strikes doubled, then tripled. Bach and Star followed
the hammering sound and arrived at a frozen lake a few yards in
front of the supply station. There, a dozen fishermen shoveled
snow, chopped holes in the ice, and set up their fishing huts.

Bach shook his head, complaining. “The lake
was right there, frozen and covered with snow. We just didn’t see
it.”

Wasting no time, they shuffled across the
frozen lake to the first hut where a little man with a furry hood
pulled tightly around his face had made a hole in the ice. Star
noticed four pie-shaped ice chips floating within the circle. “May
we watch for a while?” she asked.

“
Catching food for the
co-op,” the round-faced man replied.

Star crouched near the hole for a better
look, but before she spoke, the man grabbed the floating ice pieces
and flung them across the lake. “Not a good spot. No fish.”

Bach let out a huff. “No fish, no symbol.”
Nearby, a little man with an iced-over moustache pulled on his
empty fishing line and complained to himself. Bach encouraged him.
“You’ll catch something soon.”

The loud ignition of a motor at the supply
station drowned out the man’s reply. Everyone jerked around to look
at the same time. A bright light from the building’s second-floor
window illuminated the frost-tinged air.

The fisherman shook his fist at the
building. “Too much noise. No fish.”

Bach looked on in disbelief. “How’d they get
that generator going without fuel?” he asked Star.

“
The Rooks couldn’t have
come and left without our knowing,” she answered.

“
Maybe Rooks are living
here, with fuel. Something’s not right.” At the same time, he saw
the symbol of hope projected onto the ice from the supply station’s
window. He led Star forward with his arm around her waist and
pointed near the roof to the round window with four triangular
panes. Bach beat hard on the supply station door. “Open up!” As he
rapped and yelled repeatedly, foggy spurts of warm breath spewed
from under his headgear. “Star, what are the shopkeeper’s names? I
can’t recall.”

“
The man is Tobit, the
woman’s name, I can’t think of.”

Bach pounded harder. “Tobit, please open up.
We’re here from the Creator.” Then he partially remembered the
lady’s name. “Her name is something with a Z.”

“
Zerah,” Star
offered.

Rustling sounds came from inside before the
big door swung open. Tobit bounced around the store, filled with
excitement. “Something happened. Generator started working by
itself. Fuel was gone. We packed our bags, getting ready to leave
for the night. It came on by itself.”