Read Online Deucalion by Brian Caswell - Free Book Online Page A

by his family and their actions. No one owns anything. Not even a dwelling. Leani’s family group lived in one of the largest dwellings, but not because they were more important or richer than any other family. There were just more of them than there were in most families, so they needed the room. No individual Elokoi on the Reserve was more important than any other. They don’t even have speechwords for ‘important’ or ‘leader’.
    In all their history and legend there has only been one individual with any special authority. Her name was Gaita, and she led the Forty Clans in their legendary Great Trek. But even Gaita had no power in herself. It was her Dream they followed, the Thoughtsong she was given one night, that led them to risk the journey across the uncharted Central Desert in search of the promise of what lay beyond the distant mountains. And when the Trek was over, nothing more of importance was heard from her. When she grew old, her advice might have been valued as the advice of the Elders always was, but no more than that of any of the others. It wasn’t that they were ungrateful. It was just the Elokoi way. She had served her people well, and everyone knew it. What more was there to say?
    That night, back in Edison, I watched Karl Johannsen on the tube. He was giving one of his famous ‘unscripted’ speeches, outside one of the wealthier hotels in the Martinez Oasis Resort. I watched him preening in front of the cameras, flashing his diamond ring and mouthing all the right words. The minority leader on the Council, our soon-to-be first President. I wondered what the Elokoi would make of our system of politics. If they were interested.
    The report said that the man himself was taking a flyer across to Edison the next day, and I remember thinking, big thrill! But in the end, it was the news story of the year. Because the flyer never made it into Edison, and it was days before they finally located Johannsen’s body.

6
    SURVIVORS
    Air Traffic Coordination-Centre
    New Geneva (City South)
    15/7/101 Standard
    â€˜What do you mean, “They aren’t where they were supposed to be”?’ The Controller growled the words, and the young operative took an involuntary step backwards.
    The Controller was not a patient man. Stupid queries from his overpaid staff were rarely well received. Especially today.
    They were ferrying over a new batch of inbounds from the latest Colony ship. Thirty thousand people, processed and shuttled down in the space of a few days. It was a huge operation, for which the Controller was ultimately responsible. And the responsibility did nothing to improve the state of his infamous temper. Especially when a junior staff-member wanted to bother him with the relatively minor problem of some private flyer being reported overdue on a routine hop.
    â€˜The vehicle’s flight computer was in contact with the control mainframe at Edison flyer-base up until about four, then the link was suddenly broken. No emergency signal or location beacon. Nothing. And the odd thing is . . .’ She paused, and moved across to the monitor on the desk in front of him. Pressing a few keys, and selecting the menu she was after, she touched the screen.
    â€˜Well?’ He watched the monitor as the survey map of Edison and its surrounds appeared.
    â€˜They were heading for Edison from Martinez, which is about 2,000 clicks almost due west.’ The young woman indicated a point somewhere off the screen.
    â€˜And?’ Some of the impatience had drained from his voice as he sensed that she was about to make her point.
    â€˜And the logical route would be to approach the coast, flying directly east, across the Fringes and crossing the mountains about here’ – she touched the screen and the map refocused, enlarging a small area of desert where it bordered the Roosevelt Ranges, about 150 kilometres west of Edison.
    â€˜I gather that didn’t