(7)
"We're going on the point-rail. We have a private car!" Rana exclaimed excitedly. She took Helena by the hand and pulled her along, down the hall, to where the family were waiting. "It will take only a short time for us to be in the city! But Mama says I need to take a nap after lunch and …"
Keeper Duburi asked Helena to wear a dark gown which lay at the foot of her bed, along with a dark modest head wrap and a veil, "You are to be the guest of honor and while you will be presented to many impressive people, we need to keep you safe from the masses."
"Safe?"
"Well-meaning people who want to touch you and be touched by you."
Later, Renel helped Helena with her veil and clipped a pretty jewel through the material to keep it in place. She said, "Mother is being wise. You do not want to be mobbed when you get there." Her smile was mild, "One year the poor girl presented was grasped so much by the grateful crowds that she was badly bruised before being presented to Kamryn. There was a fear she wouldn't be acceptable."
"Then I'm not the first alien to be presented to Kamryn?"
Renel paused, obviously saying something she should not. "Oh, you are the first in that regard. But we have had guests from far away cities, from across the ocean. Some were nearly as exotic as you. Kamryn loved them ..."
"In what way?" Helena stood before a full length mirror. While the gown was as lovely as the others, a pure black bodice with a lacey grey and black skirt, Helena felt a little silly, like a harem girl or some oddly disguised celebrity. She would be glad when the festival was over, when her celebrity lessened, and she could work with these people, possibly in their version of a hospital. Perhaps she could learn, teach and lecture about Earth and all of the planets she and her friends had visited.
"I've never quite understood the politics of it all." Renel evaded, less smiling and turning from her. "But Kamryn does like the company of beautiful women; the more unusual the better."
It had been less than a week since Helena saw the video log of John's death and while she still deeply grieved, she knew John would want her to continue. She thought briefly of asking those in charge if they could send her back to Alpha once the festival was over but later she decided, without John, there was no point of returning to the moon. Being on Moonbase Alpha, despite reuniting with her friends, would take more courage and motivation than she currently possessed and, listening to all the Keeper and Cavin had told her, might also deplete Bethel Nobles resources.
Helena was informed of past famines and blights. "We are prosperous now." Cavin said, "but our balance is so precarious on this planet. One small change can be disastrous. We all pitch in, one way or the another, to keep stability."
"And somehow the festival every three years helps?" Helena wondered.
"Yes." The Keeper replied, "Through exchange, business contacts, great minds getting together to share ideas and trade secrets … and the satisfaction of Kamryn. We keep our world at peace and in one piece."
Heilo had been standing behind Cavin at the time of this disclosure, an ever present drink in his hand. Helena watched him suddenly down the drink in a gulp, his expression angry or disbelieving, before he excused himself. She actually found herself wishing she knew Heilo better. Despite her initial contempt of the man, Helena had the feeling Cavin's younger brother was an honest if abrupt and arrogant man.
As good as these people were to her, Helena thought, when it was all over she wanted to retire to the city, find work, and live her life as a private citizen. She would adapt. She had to … or die of heartache and loneliness. John would be terribly disappointed in her if he suspected she let herself wallow in a life-long mourning. Even after Lee had disappeared, although it took years, she was able to laugh and love again …
Helena reached or the ring on her little finger and remembered it was missing. She needed to ask the Keeper about it.
They took an elevator to the lowest level of their great home. Helena was stunned to see the point-rail was sitting before them, resting on cushioned concave tracks, an advanced monorail of sorts, as the large double door opened. They were outside and Helena could see the ocean in the distance as the sun arose. It was a beautiful morning and, Helena thought, a new chapter in the book that was her life.
John Koenig walked the city, watching preparations for the festival, and hearing all of the excited laugher and gossip. It truly was one of the cleanest, most pristine and advanced cities he had ever been in. Trash bins were filled and picked up every hour and the citizens were obviously very proud of their accomplishments, the small ultramodern shops and food stores just as tidy and quaint as the futuristic but curious streetlamps and white clad sentries that patrolled the streets. They waved at the men, women and children who crossed their paths; watchful but benevolent.
Everyone, even the lowliest of citizens, dressed well in suits and gowns, some wearing fedoras and tall head-dresses, smiling warmly at one another. John nodded and acknowledged many greetings as he walked about. With his dark hair and the return of his naturally tanned skin, they seemed to see Koenig as one of their own and he appreciated their good salutations.
He paused on a corner and looked into the window of what looked like a pastry shop. A plump woman, her black hair pulled back into a bun, waved at him from inside the shop, urging him to enter. He did and she, wiping flour dusted fingers on a white apron, asked if he was hungry.
"A little." He admitted, "I skipped breakfast this morning."
She lifted a delicious looking roll, possibly of the cinnamon variety, from behind the counter and, with a waxy-towel, gave it to him.
"I have no money with me." Koenig apologized.
"None-sense." She smiled, "Come by later and pay me, after the festival if you'd like."
"You are very kind." John said and bit into the roll. It was warm, tender and tasty, reminding him of Earth and the mom-pop shops that lined the streets where he lived in New York. Actually, this particular shop seemed a little less advanced than some he'd seen and he welcomed it even more into his heart. "Everyone seems very kind." He admitted.
"It is always like this in the city before the festival. I believe each and every one is so grateful for what we have … We tend to forget there is a price to pay." Her smile faltered but quickly grew bright again, "It has been hinted that Kamryn will no doubt be pleased by the ceremony this year. His prize is said to be the most beautiful and exotic ever."
John nodded as he devoured the pastry, accepting the small cup of warm drink the woman offered him. He did not know what gifts they were going to give this mysterious Kamryn, how they were bribing him, but it wasn't for him to tell these people how to conduct their principles. Apparently said tributes had worked for the people of Bethel Nobles so far. Who was he to question their ways?
"I have never seen eyes so blue …" the woman started, studying John, then she suddenly appeared flustered, "You are him, aren't you?" she clapped her hands together, delighted. "You are the man from Earth, aren't you? Oh my, you are so dashing and an important part of the festival!"
"So they tell me." John's voice was low, feeling slightly self-conscious. He finished his drink which tasted much like a weak infusion of coffee, "I really have to go. Thank you."
"Oh, thank you – you poor man!"
John turned and slowly walked from the shop, awkward but not too confused by her parting farewell. There were probably very few on the planet who did not know Helena had died before their craft landed.
Once again outside, deciding it was probably a good time to get back to his apartment building, should he be recognized by someone else, John walked. If harmony in a world of thousands truly existed, he thought, it seemed that Bethel Noblians had found it.
"She's on her way." The Keeper spoke into the link on her wrist. She was in the galley area, looking down the aisle to where Cavin and the others were seated, looking out the windows at the lush view. They were travelling through a convivial mountainous region. Helena's veil was down currently, revealing her face, but it would come up again once they reached the city and their quarters.
"Does she suspect anything?" Zena asked from the other end.
"Only that she will be presented to Kamryn, possibly talk with him for a while then, when the festival is over, she will carry on with her life here as a citizen."
"And that is all she will ever need know." Zena's voice was firm. "If she learns any more, you know what will happen, Keeper Duburi."
"I understand."
"Make sure that you do because if Kamryn does not get what he wants – he may require more than one lovely female to appease his licentious needs. Perhaps next festival both of your daughters will meet with his satisfaction!?"
The Keeper looked down the aisle and her two beautiful children and she gulped, "There will be no error. Lady Helena will be there, ready for the ceremony when you say."
The connection broke and Keeper Duburi gulped ever so slightly. Taking a breath, steadying her hands, she walked out to join the others.
Koenig looked down at the people below him in the streets, scurrying here and there. Although it was not yet dark, surprisingly bright and clear fireworks were going off in a remote area. The display was large enough for the city to see. He could hear the people below, their delighted cries of appreciation.
But Koenig could feel no joy. His expression was grim-faced and angry.
When he had returned to his quarters, the building's head of security and Emissary Zena were waiting for him. The Chief was dressed in a starched military grey, with an odd weapon by his side. Zena, less formal than usual, possibly called away from her own quarters when John was discovered missing, wore a soft feathery smock. With her unbound hair, loose and luscious about her shoulders, Zena was quite beautiful, he thought.
But it still did not prevent him from feeling anger at their intrusion.
The Commander had been scolded by the Captain about leaving the building unattended.
"Were you not advised that it was not permitted?" the man asked gruffly.
"Why should I be attended?" Koenig asked them both, "Why am I not free to walk where I wish?"
"Not yet, John Koenig." Zena warned, "You may go anywhere in this building but, for now, we need you to stay away from the populace. It's for your own safety."
"I was never in danger."
"You could have been." The Captain snapped, "There are people down there that might want to tear you apart."
Koenig looked at the dark stocky man as if he was daft.
Zena explained, again using a soft and practical tone so common to her. "Most are overwhelmingly delighted to have you here, Commander, but there is a rebellious faction amongst our people who see you as a danger. It makes little sense, I know, but even on Earth can you say that all your people are completely open and amenable to those who are different than them?"
Koenig inwardly sighed, "We have our prejudices too." he admitted. "But I'm not that different."
"Of course not." She indulged, "But after the festival and ceremony are over it will become less restrictive, John Koenig. As a matter of fact it is our belief once you are presented to our people, both Jyst and Qualla, and have talked with them about Moonbase Alpha and how you came to join us, they will immediately warm to you."
"Don't they know all of this already?" he asked.
As they had on Earth, the Bethel Noblians also had a form of television. Reflected on a far blank wall of his quarters, John had seen little in the way of genuine entertainment but it often showed highlights of past festivals and news regarding agriculture and accomplishments from their world administration. He had even seen Emissary Zena profiled in a couple segments. She was highly respected but he could not help noticing that same coolly calculated smile whenever her picture was taken.
Then there was he, John Koenig. During televised "specials" he was described as the man from Earth, having come to join them, grieving for his lost love yet firm and resolute on the outside. He is a humanoid alien, the reporters verified, " ...and the man understands sacrifice." they touted. In the years to come he would be there for them, do all he must, to show strength and justice for all on Bethel Nobles.
John understood very little of it. They acted as if he was primed to do spectacular things but Koenig himself barely had a grasp on how the planet worked, why the festival was truly so embraced after all these years, and why the mysterious but obviously mighty Kamryn was still so essential to their everyday lives.
Koenig recalled what he had been told about Kamryn but, while it made for a nice children's story, they didn't really believe he was magical, did they?
"But it will be different coming straight from your lips, John Koenig." Zena continued, "Right now our people have only seen you on time delayed pieces of tape from when you first came to us and when you visited Lady Helena in the observation room …"
Koenig looked sharply at her. He did not know he was being video-documented when he went to see Helena's body.
"Yes, they have been told what you are, about your Lady Helena, but once the people hear you speak directly to them, assuring all that you are a real man who only wants peace and prosperity for all – they will love you more. And that includes those insubordinate fools who act without thinking." Zena looked at her security chief, "You may go now, Harlen. He understands." she said firmly.
The man nodded to his superior then turned and exited the room.
Koenig suddenly felt as if he was being set up as a propaganda piece and he was certain he did not like it. "I feel like a puppet." he told her.
Again, they stood in front of the large window, the night stars and two of the moons visible.
"You are not. We will further educate you, Commander. A speech will be written and studied. If you do not like what we've written you can write it to suit yourself. All will be well ... John." Zena suddenly stepped a few paces before him, bringing her very close.
Her smile was lovely, as was the rest of her, but Koenig could not help but feel manipulated despite her assurance. He observed, rather than feeling authentic flattery, as she softly placed her hands on the chest and shoulder of his tunic.
"You are a very attractive man, John." She spoke in a whisper, and slowly closed the distance between them, her red dewy lips moving to touch his own.
Sure of her abilities to entice and distract, Zena kissed him directly on the lips. Her fingers crawled familiarly from the collar of his tunic to touch the back of his head, the tips gently running through his hair.
But something felt amiss. Zena realized what it was and suddenly felt foiled when, after many seconds, Koenig never raised his arms to embrace her. She pulled back slightly, taking on another tactic. "Forgive me, John … I mean, Commander. I know you are not yet past the pain of losing dear Helena. I've just not been able to resist the urge to hold you and make you feel … welcomed."
She pulled back and looked at his passive yet slightly self-possessed expression.
"Of course." He said, with little emotion, his eyes looking directly into hers.
Zena stepped back and pressed her lips together, clearly displeased regardless of her effort to seem otherwise. John watched as she gave him a short curtesy nod and left him, the doors automatically closing behind her.
He wished he knew who to trust. Zena obviously had an agenda all her own. If she had pressed her lips any harder or longer against his, John felt he might have received frostbite. He did not believe for a minute Zena was genuinely attracted to him. He doubted she could fall in love with any man.
However, the power and station her connection with him could represent was seductive. Koenig had met many men and women with similar ambition. Like any good power seeking business woman or politician she did what Zena did to advance her own cause.
And for right now, no matter what they were telling him, John Koenig was being held captive. He looked down in the main area, the intersecting streets and rush of people, from his window again. He could not see their faces but could almost, but not quite, smile as he watched their euphoria.
A small tear trailed down his cheek.
He missed his moon, his base, his friends but most of all … he missed Helena.
CONTINUE TO CHAPTER 8.
