The com locks on the studio doors disengaged. It had been six mec-lan since the time of the original broadcast and freedom had been returned to the Baccaran, the rulers, and their scientists. Lothion turned quickly as he heard the locks. "There, you see," he said brightly. "And now it is time for us to resume our places. We may have lost a few of the... not-so-dedicated, but our shield piercer is safe and we no longer have that plague called the Merenthaal with us."
"How can you be sure they are gone?" Greshon asked as respectfully as he could.
"How can we be sure?" Lothion sneered, "we know these troublemakers better than you think. All they want is to take the 'weak members' of society," he made a ditto sign with his fingers, "and be off. They don't have the strength to actually take over or control us, much less the planet."
As Lothion spoke Greshon felt his confidence returning. He desired its return. He desired the feeling that immense amounts of power gave him. His addiction was strong. He would even have cooperated with the Merenthaal if it had come to that, but the devious Baccaran were much easier to comprehend, even if their leader was unpredictable and had a ferocious temper. Lothion allowed Greshon to lead the way back to their top floor conference room. Their employees stared at the group as they passed them by in the hallways. The Baccaran had instructed them to act as if nothing had happened, as if somehow, they planned it themselves for their own purposes.
The people will see things my way. Greshon thought as he glanced at the faces of his workers. They will all follow faithfully – and blindly. What choice do they have? He couldn't help but smile as the feeling of dominance surged back into his body: he had triumphed over the Merenthaal and he was back in control.
If he had checked the Central Control Tower registry, however, his triumph would not have seemed so complete. While they were imprisoned in the studio, one hundred thirteen of the employees from their tower alone had left – never to return.
The rulers and the Baccaran met in the conference hall. "So," Greshon said, "where do we stand?"
"I think it's time to make a broadcast of our own," Lothion counseled. "Let the people know that it was just a hoax, that a group of crazed rebels found a way to bypass the signal system and staged it all. Then..." Lothion's mouth twisted into a crooked smile, which was frightening to behold, "let the people know that the perpetrators were apprehended and that there will be a public punishment for those who committed this illegal act."
"But... we don't have anyone to punish," Greshon stated the obvious.
"We'll find someone." Lothion said, without a hint of remorse.
Greshon watched the commander from across the table. The prime ruler of Kypro had never considered murdering innocent Ophilion as a demonstration to the public, although this wouldn't be the first time he had killed for control on his quest for power. He had quietly eliminated opponents – by means of his special Qonaar units; had rivals arrested under false charges and placed in the PEN; he had caused 'distractions' which had cost innocent Cholan lives, but to publicly execute innocent people on false charges to counteract what the Merenthall had done – this was a new level of deviance. He wondered what else he might be required to do in the name of progress.
On the other hand they had too much to lose if they backed out now. And still, a doubt crossed his mind: what if the Merenthaal are right? What if we really are dooming our planet because of our own failure to listen to reason? No... No, we are so close! Once we have successfully tested the weapon, Quarinor will be ours. We will have what our fathers dreamed of: the bounty of Quarinor and the glory of Ophilion. We will be gods! Greshon breathed in deeply and exhaled.
Lothion could tell that he was once again fully committed. How I love manipulating these mortals, he thought. How gullible they are. How predictable.
***
The passengers of the Elen-Tron were the first refugees to arrive at East Camp. They walked with Arthur and Maria from the Elen-Tron, down one of the streets, to the central circle. They were given a large tent next to one of the administration tents. The interior of their temporary home was more spacious than Orion's whole apartment and almost as comfortable. There were divisions made with thick curtains forming individual rooms furnished with foldable cots, tables and chairs.
Family groups were given their own spaces. They placed their bags on the floor, which seemed to be made of some kind of poly-fiber, then gathered in the main room, at the entrance, and sat somewhere in the circle of foldable couches. They chatted in low voices, slowly coming to terms with their new reality.
There were small globes hanging throughout the tent which, they supposed, were a light source at night. At that moment the sun entered in bright shafts, slanting through open sections of the roof of the tent, giving everything a cheerful, clean feel. They did not notice any information placards or warning signs anywhere or even numbers or letters identifying tents; instead there were tall wooden poles at the entrance to each tent with three long ribbons of different colors streaming from the top. There was also a rectangular wooden plaque with an Ophilion animal or plant printed on it and attached to the pole at eye level.
The colors on their tent were leaf-green, deep-yellow and absolute-black and on the plaque was the profile of a hiebra-luren standing on its hind legs, appearing to look into the distance. Orion wondered if it was chance or if they had been assigned the 'luren tent' on purpose. Maybe Arthur had suggested it – to remind them of the 'rabbit hole' into which they had fallen, and were still tumbling. He smiled as he remembered his encounters with the luren: in his dream, and under the mechanic center.
At that moment Arthur and Maria entered to see how everyone was settling in. The newcomers had many questions. They were not as interested in their hosts as in what was happening in their com-zone.
"We'll know soon," Maria told them, and took a seat at the end of one of the couches. "The tests are set for ten calah. They already have the explosives and test equipment loaded into ships so... we'll see. They may change their schedule, but we don't think that's likely. They want to move forward as quickly as possible, especially now that we've confronted them."
Fel's aunt posed a question. "And this camp... it's safe? What if the Qonaar decide to investigate, or make a raid?"
"Good point," Maria said. "We've set up electronic barriers five hundred relons from the camp in all directions. This prevents any transport entering, from air or ground, unless we permit it. If anything like a group of Qonaar approach, the sentries will spot them and simply seal the barrier in that position; or the whole barrier, if necessary."
Fel's aunt seemed satisfied. "You see," she said, "I work for the Qonaar, I know what they are capable of. When they get orders, they follow them, unquestioningly." She looked at the two Merenthaal agents. "I believe what they said in the broadcast," she told them, glancing at the four teenagers, "because I have heard a lot of what goes on in the background. I'm a com-op in the Kypro Security Department." She gave a long, disparaging sigh. "It's a dark world up there, but... what can we do to change anything? We just do our best to stay off the radar."
Maria nodded. "I understand, and I'm sorry. This is going to be a difficult ten calah, but you are safe here. You have nothing to fear."
"Thank you," she said, but it was obvious that she still had concerns. "The Qonaar... they are well equipped, and their weapons are formidable."
"Ours are more formidable," Maria smiled confidently. "And so is our defense."
The lady nodded, smiled and pulled her young daughter close.
"We'll need help running the camp," Arthur said, on a brighter note. "We expect people to start arriving anytime. We need com-ops for registration, guides to show people to their tents, guards to man posts around the perimeter. There'll be plenty to do and we have a limited crew. Once you are settled, let the organizers in the administration tents know if you would like to volunteer."
Lem and Cari glanced at each other. "I'll help now," Cari said, "I'm a com-op, like Celli."
"I'll help," Lem said, "Just put me wherever you need me." It was clear that they were seeking action to displace the trauma they had experienced at home.
"Thank you," Arthur said, smiling at them.
The rest of the first arrivals pretty much volunteered at the same time, including Fel's younger sister and cousin who were both in their ninth year.
"We are grateful," Maria said, glad that their first arrivals were people of action. "Let us introduce you to some of our team members."
They walked out of their tent and began working along with the Merenthaal to prepare the camp. Belarin paired with Naliba – one of the Meloria from the Antarious – and went to work preparing bedding and household items in a supplies tent. Fel's aunt gladly took charge of managing a registration desk in one of the administration tents on the Central Circle. She gladly accepted Cari's help and they both set to work to learn the Merenthaal format for registration. Fel's father and uncle asked for sentry duty. They followed Galian toward a table where he began explaining the plan, using a paper map of the camp.
The two young cousins had been given electronic tablets and joined Cathandra to get acquainted with their local 'tent island', which would be the first to be inhabited. They needed to be familiar with the color patterns and animals and plants for each of the tents on their island so they could help refugees settle in and obtain the things they needed.
***
Hanthran was nearing the horizon. The wind whispered through the trees while the birds were busily informing their fellows which flag poles they had claimed. As the insects began their evening flights the new tent village provided ideal feeding conditions.
Jenna was grateful to be back in the free-zone, surrounded by trees and sky; so was the mrith team. The camp itself, mostly empty though it was, felt like the birth of a new society, and they were the first to witness it. The people who would make the journey to this place would probably be people like them; people who felt at least some of what they were feeling now.
At that moment Belarin and Naliba came around the administration tent leading a young family of four to their new dwelling. The mother held an infant and the father carried a large backpack on his shoulders while he led a small boy by the hand. Belarin lifted her hand in Cathandra's direction, signaling their need for assistance. The Meloria waved and led her two young assistants to greet them and help them settle in.
It was clear from the expression on the faces of the young couple that they were in doubt about many things. The young boy, who must have been in his fifth year, stared with round eyes at the two older girls with their tablets. Orion smiled. Watching his mother work alongside the Merenthaal gave him a feeling of hope for his small family, and by extension, hope for his world.
***
As the sun was sinking behind the trees an unusual but pleasant sound caught everyone's attention. It was coming from one of the dining tents. It was a clear, high pitched pinging. Orion walked around one of the tents to see Lem holding a curious object. It resembled a modified half-globe on a string. It was made of a reddish-gold metal. Lem was proudly striking it with a wooden hammer and watching people's reaction.
The pilot smiled and wondered what the meaning of the sound could be. Kylor walked by and motioned with his hand. "That means dinner," he said, in a jovial voice. Orion followed him toward the large dining tent which held twenty long tables lined with benches. The residents of East Camp began converging on the dining tent, following the sound of the bell and the smells of familiar food cooking. Orion detected pintelo sauce and pilimot. Memories flooded his brain.