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Red Nail · #4 (**permalink**) 09-17-2008

Jordan disembarked the tram after paying two shills and a care. The prices, which were regulated by the Committee, were going up. Before long Jordan was sure that it would be two care per trip. With the average wage for workers being four cares and a shill, it wouldn’t be long before the wealthiest would be the only ones that could ride the tram lines. It was depressing and Jordan was sure that the community representatives from each section would be feeling the pressure of their tax payers. Not that the Committee would care, but he expected a riot or two before long.

When he disembarked he was swept up in the rush of the larger section. Humans swarmed in and out of the titanic tram cars that were headed out of section while vench mechanics squirmed along the sides of the cars, fixing small dents and other problems. Elves huddle together in grove packs and shared stolen or bought nutrient packs while a performing troupe of heshin chose to mimic the grove with their molten and mineral skin, shifting to resemble the elves in all but their color. The real surprise for Jordan was one of the reptilian dac in an environment suit. It clicked incomprehensibly at each passerby, probably asking where it could find some new water to refill it’s breathing supply. Luckily for it a human seemed to understand it and clicked out a response. They both went into a café together.

As Jordan moved from the tram station into the west side of Section 2 he didn’t have to look hard to find the University. All around him students milled and walked to their classes clad in the required uniform of a white long shirt that reach even the tallest student’s knees with its sleeves and bottom. The smaller students and vench had to lift theirs up to just walk.

While Jordan walked he blanked his thoughts out again, letting his field take hold. Thankfully, now that he wasn’t focusing so much on the box, it took hold. The thought about Salarishkay. About the old elf’s sparse leaf hair that tended to brown earlier and earlier each year. He also thought about it’s mottled bark skin that had a jagged run along it’s shoulder where it had been caught by gun fire in the student riot of ’53.

The field did its job and after only a few minutes of aimless walking the two stumbled upon each other.

“Ah Jordan,” Salarishkay began, “I see that Weesog sent his best. I was getting worried. The fern rat wouldn’t keep for much longer. Was their any trouble?”

“Yeah,” Jordan replied as he fished the box out of his pack, a little disgusted by the idea he’d been carrying around one of the dead plant creatures, “Your sibling put a hell of a lot of wards on this thing. I had to take the tram up here.”

Salarishkay gave Jordan a puzzled look as it turned the finely wrapped box over in it’s hands, “This isn’t my box. There’s no rot smell and there’s no way Vaniquay could afford this packaging.”

With hesitant and curious fingers, Salarishkay undid the ties and carefully undid the paper so as not to rip it. Beneath it was a black box stamped with the seal of the Committee. The golden seal depicted a round table surrounded by seats. Each had the name of a prominent member along with the Section the member governed. With a mix of wonder and horror Jordan and Salarishkay realized that they held an official document that belonged to the highest echelons of the Committee.

“Oh gods…” Salarishkay swore quietly, “What the hell have you done Jordan? Do you have any idea how much trouble we’re in just for undoing the paper and the ties?”

“We!?” Jordan yelled a little too loudly, drawing curious looks from some of the students before he brought his voice down and ushered Salarishkay and himself away from the crowded area, “You opened the paper, I just watched. Listen, give it to me. I’ll take it and drop it off at Center Piece. I think they’ll understand that it was a mistake. I can still run back and grab the rat from the alley when I’m done.”

“Don’t bother,” Salarishkay huffed, glad that Jordan had taken the responsibility of the box off of it’s hands, “It’ll be fully decayed by the time you get back. Just take that thing and get it out of here.”

Jordan took off after that, the box weighing heavily on him. He’d have to take the tram again, it really would take the rest of the day to get to Center Piece. He wanted to make things right with Salarishkay and get the box, but the professor was right. There was no point if the fern rat had wasted away. He tried to act nonchalantly, but as he traveled every look from Committee security became accusations in his mind. It was times like this that Jordan wondered if turning down Weesog’s offer was such a bad idea.

--

Back in Alley B and man flanked by three members of Committee security fished around in the refuse. All he’d found so far was a dead fern rat in a box. The plans were no where to be seen. He rose, his black coat and shoes stained, and looked at the end of the alley.

“It’s not here,” he said aloud; none of the guards responded.

“I know how important it is. The gate project is dead in the water without it,” he paused, listening, “I’ll set up the field and find who ever took it. The box will protect him, her, or it, but I’ll head back to the thief’s origin. I’ll contact you again soon.”