Fiction: The Girassian Debacle Chapter 15: The Jungle Canopy was Covered by Heavy Snow

Art generated with MidJourney Software by Author

Previous Chapter 14: A Splinter in the Eye of God Stillness: https://onthebeachatnightalone.com/2023/05/16/fiction-the-girassian-debacle-chapter-14-an-absolute-stillness/

Sitting in the dugout’s bow, Rance Yeoman floated down the Congo River.  He was going to see Araden Vastatis in Matadi. He thought it a preposterous place to visit. The air steamed like a lobster-boiling kitchen. He dripped sweat, his black hair clumping into sinuous coils that snaked down his forehead and over his ears. 

Butterflies landed on the dugout’s low gunwale, uncomfortably just above the water line. A bright red butterfly landed on his shoulder. He swatted it, crumpling its wings and flicking flakes into the muddy current. In the reeds, crocodiles sized him up for dinner. 

Never missing a chance to proselytize one of the people, Yeoman said to the dugout’s steersman, “Job seekers swarmed the dock. Finding a job must be near impossible.”

“There are a lot of us, for sure,” the steersman said, using his paddle to keep the dugout in the middle of the river. 

“You have to stay clean for certified work. Life must be hard. Do you like it here?”

“It’s home. Where else would I go?”

“With all the technology we have,” Yeoman said waving at the Matadi Advanced Aerospace Research Institute on the shore, “you‘d think the League could give you more than stupefying drugs.  Mankind should explore the heavens, use the Portal to explore the galaxy. There are countless opportunities, but the Emissaries withhold them from us. And they give no reason! ” Yeoman pounded the gunwale once and pulled his hand back as water spilled into the dugout.

“I guess. But I always thought the robots put us in limbo by taking away all of our jobs. Left the shit jobs for us.” The steersman pointed up at the shore’s campus of research buildings. “And you go to go meet the chief of the robot revolution.”

Yeoman raised his voice. “We are working on freeing you. Soon, you and your family will be free to explore new worlds with the robots serving you!” He could not help but get excited whenever he repeated his mantra of freedom in the exploration of stars.

The dugout floated towards Senator Araden Vastatis’s sleek, two-level yacht,  its airfoils tucked like the wings of a swimming waterfowl. No one greeted him when his dugout bumped into the yacht near a ladder. 

Rance carefully stood up, reaching for the ladder. He noticed a pair of eyes close to the dugout. Imagining large crocodile jaws clamping the dugout to pull it underwater, he frantically climbed the ladder.  He hoisted himself over the cable railing and landed hard on the deck. Sweaty knees, oily from sun block, slid on the deck giving him abrasions like those suffered as a child. 

“Ahh! What a fucking hell this is!”

He saw Araden Vastatis poke his head out a second level cabin door.  “Good Lord, come in out of the heat!” He wore a loose fitting white shirt which hung just past his waist. He had a tan the color of mahogany. Wearing sunglasses and holding a tall glass filled with ice, he looked like a man on a leisure cruise. 

Rance resented Vastatis’s casual attitude. Rance felt he worked hard during these meetings with Vastatis, starting upon his arrival. But Vastatis always seemed to be dismissive. And the meetings always ended poorly because Vastatis usually would not meet him halfway.

Rance stepped into the cabin and shivered. The cabin was kept at an icy cold temperature. “I love the heat in the Congo,” Vastatis said. “But not all the time.”

“This is a horrible place. Why did you base your manufacturing here?”

“The Congo is full of resources. I’ve developed Matadi as a transportation hub. Spying on us here is difficult. In fact, I’m planning to propose making the Congo a region of the Confederacy next week.”

“There had to be another place that would have met your needs. I almost died getting here.” 

“That’s your fault. I could have helped you get here in luxury. I think you like being miserable.”

#

Damn! Why did Yeoman have to disturb my sleep? These meetings are getting more frequent since he told me about our mutual dreams. 

Vastatis moved across the cabin and sat behind a chart table, motioning for Yeoman to sit down. Inexplicably, Lieutenant Song, carrying a stack of towels, appeared behind him in the cabin port.  Her appearance as a deckhand made no sense to Araden. She closed the door and offered a towel to Yeoman which he grabbed to wipe his sweaty face. 

Yeoman dropped the towel and moved to sit opposite Vastatis. He turned and considered her for a moment and then gestured for her to come over to him. Blood dribbled from his knees down his shins. “Use one of your clean towels to stop this bleeding.” 

She knelt and started to dab the blood on his skinned knees with a clean towel.  “I see you tolerate the hoi polloi on your yacht,” Yeoman said.

Vastatis ignored the preposterous sight of Lieutenant Song ministering to Yeoman. Vastatis looked directly at him and laughed. “Her people are hardly lower class. I’m not obsessed with Song like you are. You brought her along.  She is surely not part of my crew. ”

“She nearly killed the entire review delegation. Her kind does not belong on a League ship. ” Yeoman’s knees healed instantly as Song daubed them.  Yeoman kicked at the bloodstained towel and pushed Song away. 

“Her presence reminds me of what I’ll accomplish putting her people in their place.”

Distaste for Yeoman flared inside Araden. “Good luck with that. You know I employ a lot of Cereans?”

Yeoman frowned. “You have time to correct that.”

He looked around the cabin at the models of robots, androids, airplanes, and spaceships. “Why do you think your technology will impress the Emissaries and change them?  They will not partner with us.It’s with blood and sweat that you drive a revolution. Not by trotting out fancy technology.”

Vastatis winced. Blood and sweat! You look like a poster child for an orphan in a cheap film. The Emissaries will squash your revolution.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Vastatis said. 

“Water is what I need to survive this heat. No ice.” Vastatis signaled Song and she brought a glass of water without ice from the bar. “Put it on the table,” Yeoman said. “Then leave us.” Looking at Vastatis, he said, “She should not hear our discussion.”

Opening the door to leave, Song let in an icy wind. The weather was rapidly changing. Dark clouds came rolling out of the east over the jungle. I can’t even enjoy a dream about being on my boat. Yeoman always brings gloom with him.

“We may need some hot tea,” Vastatis said, amused with Yeoman’s confusion over the appearance of an approaching winter storm, a front of snow moving upon them. He had come to expect chill weather would accompany Yeoman. 

“Strange as it is, I think tea would be nice now,” Yeoman said.

Vastatis sighed. “But I can’t provide that. You just dismissed your servant who could have helped us. So, let’s get right to it. Why are you here?”

“We need to coordinate actions on the Emissaries,” Yeoman said. 

Vastatis looked out a window and saw the cityscape of his favorite city, London, had sprung out of the jungle. The purple glow of dusk framed the Parliament Building of the United League of Earth. Behind the Parliament Building, the massive Emissary Tower rose seven hundred meters over the city. It was rapidly obscured by the storm clouds rolling in.

“Excuse me. What provocative moves are we making right now?” 

“I want you to know that, for the upcoming elections, I am organizing a rally in Portal City. I will demand some say in how the Portal is used.”

“I thought we were waiting until after the joint task force operation to make any move.”

“This does not count as a move. Dock workers and ship crews will make up the crowd. A grassroots gathering will show the growing support of my Progressive Nationalists.”

       Calmly Vastatis set his glass down. Coordinate moves, my ass. What disaster are you planning? “Some of your gatherings turn violent. That’s the last thing we need right now as the joint task force is departing. You need to wait until after the exercises with the Emissaries to do anything that would provoke them. We need to find out what this apparent cooperation is about.”

“No! Don’t you see it? The joint exercises are the perfect event for the rally. They want something from the League. And Mars, too.” 

“Rance, you will still have plenty of time to make a speech after the joint exercises. Working together with the Emissaries may make them more open to requests.” 

“ I assure you the rally will be peaceful.” Yeoman’s smile had the slight upturn of a snake’s visage, looking like he had swallowed something. “But I will confer with Party members to reconsider the timing.

I have the feeling he’s not going to delay his rally.  I’ll send some of my people to try to keep things orderly.

#

Rance jumped when the door flew open crashing into the cabin’s wall. He turned to see dusk had already receded into night. City lights illuminated the jungle canopy was covered by a heavy snow. Trees bent towards the ground and large, wet flakes blew into the cabin, hitting Yeoman’s face.  Commander Song glided into the cabin. Yeoman thought she actually was dancing. She bowed and beamed a smug smile mocking him.  

He grabbed the edge of the chart table, anticipating Captain Maureau’s entrance. He appeared whenever he visited Vastatis in a shared dream. His arrival always coincided with a discussion of plans involving the Emissaries. These appearances prophesied interference by Maureau with their plans. He was sure of it.   

In a grand gesture, Song swept her arm towards the door. A warrior who Rance first took to be an Emissary stepped into the cabin. Platinum chest armor gleamed like an Emissary’s but, instead of a full helmet hiding its identity, mirrored sunglasses and a face gaiter obscured the face with a marine-style helmet covering the neck. Its shoulders were not protected with armor and showed the epaulets of a Star Force captain. Rance was certain it was Maureau. 

“God damn you! You always barge in.” Yeoman said. “Araden, you must be disturbed. He brought this winter with him to ruin your lovely jungle?”

Vastatis shrugged. “It’s your fault. You always bring him with you. This kind of entrance, though, is new. It looks like things are escalating.”

“So. Maureau. Now you want to be like an Emissary?” Yeoman sneered. “But as a ninja assassin? Or are you here to chant for us?”

Taking a plasma blade’s hilt off their belt, the warrior ignited it.  Blinding light caused the chest armor’s figure of a golden knight to glow. The faux Emissary lifted the plasma blade above its head. Yeoman screamed, fearful he was going to be assassinated.  The blade swung between Yeoman and Vastatis, cutting the chart table in half with barely a sound, except for a sizzle as two halves collapsed into one another.  

Song nodded at the two men with a knowing smile. Silently, the warrior backed out of the room, Song following. The door slammed shut.

A stunned Yeoman was speechless. He was sure this was Maureau threatening him again, interrupting their consultation. Out of the cabin’s view port, the dawn sun again shone, the snow canopy on the jungle beginning to steam. 

#

Vastatis jerked awake and swung out of his yacht’s bunk bed.  It was six a.m., still early evening on the East Coast of America.  Again, he had shared a dream with Yeoman. He could still feel Yeoman’s agitation and fear. Yeoman brings trouble with him. He is planning a demonstration in Portal City. I hate having to call him, but I must delay his rally.  

Vastatis would wait to call Miami as he did not like dealing with Yeoman’s unintelligible rambling right after he awoke from one of these dreams. The terror of this dream would surely exacerbate Yeoman’s usual emotional instability. 

He could see Maureau’s  intrusions terrified Yeoman, but Vastatis would also admit that Maureau’s appearances portended some complications for his own interests. He just had no idea what. He found himself oddly working with the Progressive Nationalist leader to undermine Maureau’s career. 

Sitting at the chart table, the Senator realized, ironically, how his own plans required Maureau’s run to Mars to be a success. The Joint Task Force had to include Earth forces. Vastatis hoped it was going smoothly.