Forever Young

Myrite

PART ONE 

THE ALLIANCE 

Chapter One 

Walt the Barber 

"Just the usual, Walt. Square back, short on top, and make sure to cut it back behind the ears." 

"The usual with the eyebrows, Sam?" 

"I suppose so."

Sam settled back into the straight-backed wooden chair for his monthly cut, gazing at his grizzled features reflected in a mirror centred on what had once been a bedroom dresser .  

Walt could not by any stretch of the imagination be considered an expert barber, nor could his backroom be described as well equipped for the tonsorial trade, but Sam would rather be here than at the gaudy salon downtown. Here at least he could speak his native tongue, gripe about the government, and talk about the old days in Darsis. 

"This war's a terrible business,Walt. You'd think they would have learned their lesson the last time. I can't understand why some of the young lads are volunteering to fight over there. It's nothing to do with us." 

"Boy, you're starting to sound like the MRP, Sam." 

"Damn right I am. They may be a bit extreme in their language policies, but I think they're on the right track with this." 

"So you think the government was wrong sending weapons to the Darsians?" 

"Sure do. Best to keep out of it. It can only lead to trouble, and anyway why should we bother? Everybody here in Timus is an immigrant. We all left the old world because we were dissatisfied in some way, and there are as many here from Bellica as from Darsis. We can live together here without any trouble, why can't they over there?" 

"Maybe you're right,Sam, but I can't help feeling we should help in some way. After all we still have family there" 

"If we and everyone else keeps out of it, the war will soon be over because they'll run out of supplies." 

"So you support the non-confidence vote that has been called by the MRP?" 

"Sure." 

"But that means there'll have to be an election, and under present conditions the MRP might be elected." 

"So?" 

"Doesn't that bother you?" 

"Not really, but it seems to be bothering you. Mind what you're doing with those scissors." 

The scissors had slipped and inadvertently nicked the upper edge of Sam's right ear. Walt cleaned up the trickling blood with an alcohol swab and attempted to divert attention to the magnificent parrot preening himself in a corner cage.

The cage, a beat up old sofa and a well worn Queen Anne chair were the only other furnishings in the dank wood-panelled room.  

"What do you think of Pascal then?" 

"Who?" 

"Pascal. My new parrot." 

"I hadn't noticed, Walt. He's very quiet. Aren't they supposed to talk?" 

"I've been trying to teach him, but no success so far. I'm told it takes a long time." 

"Make sure you teach it Myrian, or you might be in trouble with the M.R.P." 

"Come on ,Sam, enough politics for today. Let's change the subject. How are things down at the mine?" 

"Much the same in our section, but there was a bit of excitement over in yours yesterday." 

"Oh I hadn't heard. What's the word?" 

"They've been doing some new blasting because the old vein was almost worked out. When the dust settled, they found a new rock face with a huge white seam, about forty feet thick, crossing it." 

"Marble?" 

"I don't think so. It crumbles so easily and it contains pockets of a reddish brown contaminant. None of the workers seem to have encountered an ore body like it before." 

"So what's happening?" 

"Well they've stopped work at the Hollinger for the time being while the boffins try to figure out what the stuff is." 

"Let's hope it's something valuable and there's lots of it." 

"Oh, I hear there's a mother lode. Enough to keep us employed for a lifetime, if it's good stuff. Still thinking of retiring soon?" 

"I don't think I'm going to have much choice. My breathing's getting worse, and in the mornings I can hardly get out of bed."

"Think it might be arthritis?"

"Could be. I just hope it doesn't spread to my hands. I need the extra money from my barbering to make ends meet. There, Sam, I'm done."

Walt removed the white sheet from Sam's collar, brushed the hair from the nape of his neck, and gave the burly miner a hand mirror for a final inspection. 

Just as Sam was about to pronounce himself satisfied, there was a gentle knock on the door and Hilda, Walt's matronly, silver- haired wife, entered.

"Don't mean to bother you, gents, but I thought you would be interested to know that there's going to be an election."

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