The Navigator

The Navigator

It was easy to get lost in. They entered the Folk Festival and joined the throng of people on eighty acres of stalls, music stages, camping, parking and entertainment. Most of it was condensed into an area the size of a small shopping centre. The rest of the area was for camping and amenities. The entertainment was spread over a week and so most people were staying on the grounds.

Russell Mapp had allowed himself to be talked into staying for the week. He was not one for the free life of the hippie but Cassandra had asked him to go with her group of friends. He liked her.

The first thing he noticed as they entered the gravel paths that lead to the market-style stalls was that no one wore a bra. He felt himself become immediately aroused and intimidated. He had noticed Cassandra also had shed her bra from under her tee shirt. He had restrained himself from looking at Cassandra out of respect for her. However, these were women he did not know and it seemed ok to look as they bounced passed. They wore all manner of tops and styles.

There was an assault of smells. All types of smells hit him. Food smells mingled with grass smells, hay, incense, herbs, mud and a faint hint of rotting garbage.

Russell felt a hand slip into his and saw Cassandra walking next to him.

Cassandra asked, “So what are you thinking?”
“Absolutely nothing.” Russell felt heart racing. He stumbled on the even path.
“Nothing!”
“Yes. And it is so peaceful.” He lied because now his emotions conflicted within him. He loved to be with her and share things with her but he could not think sexually of her. They were both eighteen but he did not like the messy idea of sex. His head was again a mass of thoughts and computations but very few conclusions.
“Really?”
“Yeah, really. But…”
“But?”
“But how come you like ME?”
“Who said I liked you?”
“Oh…I thought…It’s just that…Well, there’s…”
“Relax, Russ. I’m just teasing you.”
“Oh…Oh, right. Yeah, of course.”
“Do you like me?”
“Yes, very much so.”
“Then there’s the answer to your question.”
“The answer?”
“Russell, I have seen you calculate the most complex math, solve puzzles I can’t even comprehend and fix machinery that did not even know it was broken. But when it comes to interacting with people, when it comes to relationships and even just talking to people, you don’t even have a compass.”
“Yeah…”
“Russell, I asked you to come because I like you and you like me. It is that simple. I enjoy being with you.”
“You do?”
“Yes!”
“I like being with you to.”

He did like the concept of love and the feelings that he got. Just being with her helped him shed his cautious shell.

There were with two other couples and they all headed for one of the music stages to listen and dance. They later headed for the vegetarian food stall to eat lentils and rice. They watched musicians on African drums, fire-eaters, duets, poets and storytellers. They sat at café tents and talked within their group and also to other festival-goers.

Helen was Cassandra’s best friend during school and so tolerated her friend’s affection for Russell. But she did not tolerate Russell. Helen had her current boyfriend with her and was one of the couples. He was a labourer, tall, brown and muscular, and several years older than they were.

Wayne and Lauren were the other couple and still together from High School. Wayne and Lauren had always planned to be together and get married but things were not going well and this trip was an attempt to patch up the relationship. As a result, they were not really interested in others around them.

Night soon fell and whole new series of venues opened to show their entertainment wares. They walked from tent to tent to stage to café to the next event until they could walk no more. They found the all-night café and anchored themselves to a table. The guys on the African drums were there giving it their all.

The drums mesmerized Russell and the whole day had separated him from his head. He had not once thought of his terrible secret and so had been able to participate in the day. Cassandra sat next to him and they held hands. He did not feel shame or embarrassment. He realized that he was happy.

Something Helen’s boyfriend was saying to Cassandra caught his attention. Russell concentrated on the conversation,

“…I can guarantee you’ve never had as much fun as a date with me.” Helen’s boyfriend was saying.

Russell looked at him. He tried to find some hint of a joke. He had missed the whole conversation and did not want to jump to any conclusions. He glanced at Helen. She was concentrating on Cassandra, almost nodding.

Russell felt his anger rise. He glanced at Cassandra and he immediately felt cold. She was flushed and embarrassed. She was glancing at Helen with some hostility but she was definitely not angry at the blatant advance.

Russell would have taken on the brute for the right to save her honour but she was not refusing his advance. He felt the wave of turbulent emotions sweep over him. Why did she not protest at the advances? Russell questioned his own behaviour. Was he paying enough attention to her? He knew he could be self-absorbed at times but did he ignore her without realizing it? Was he supposed to do something and he had missed some subtle ritual? He probably did. He probably missed many of the rituals that others seemed to know instinctively.

Did he do something wrong? A thousand answers flooded his mind and he swam in the introversion

His old, pain-soaked existence engulfed him again like a familiar coat of enturbulance. He was alone again with the endless threads of emotional thought that cushioned his soul from any form of contact on this planet.

Sitting in the pocket was his terrible secret, no longer forgotten for that brief but peaceful day.

Someone called his name and he saw that they had left the table. He presumed that they were headed to the amphitheater for the finale of the night.

Russell stirred himself and slowly joined them. He caught a brief glimpse of Cassandra. She seemed angry and keen to stay as part of the group. He did not know why she was angry but he could easily guess that he had been verbally bullied by Helen’s boyfriend but was too withdrawn to catch it. He would not have fared well even if he had caught it. Communication was not his strong point.

He concentrated on the conversation of the group. Perhaps he could join in somehow. Perhaps he could fight a verbal duel and win back some of her respect. He could hear the words but little of it made sense and the amount that did was banal at the least. He tried to be interested but it soon waned like the moon did this night.

He did catch the unspoken conversation of the night though as he always does.

Helen darted looks of dis-pleasure at Russell as they walked up the track to the amphitheater. Her boyfriend would occasionally stop and look Russell straight in the eye. He had a look of violence that communicated straight to Russell’s being. Russell was not good at communicating with others but he sure got that one.

Cassandra did not look at him at all. Yes. He had missed something and his opportunity floated off like a black lifesaver in a darkened sea.

The group came upon an old man carrying everything he owned on his back. It was not much and most people would consider it to be garbage. He was walking in the opposite direction to them and skirted to the edge of the path to avoid collision.

Helen’s boyfriend had turned around to give Russell another look of violence. The old man was trying to avoid him but had run out of room.

They collided and the old man bounced off into the embankment. His stuff scattered and some of it landed on the group. Russell rescued some of the plastic bags from the wind and started scooping up his possessions.

An unpleasant smell came from a broken container and the girls grimaced. The boyfriend extended his hand to the old man and helped him to his feet. After assessing that he was all right, the boyfriend left the old man to gather his own possessions. The smell drove the girls away and they followed the boyfriend. Russell handed the old man the bags he had and went to follow the group.

The old man had been gibbering all the way through. Russell concentrated on it as he walked away.

“…Path to the arm and down to the hub. Shipping lanes converge in the time axis of the schedule… Thank you, young man, commercestance.”

Russell froze. The group was signaling to him to hurry up using impatient gestures. He slowly turned and looked at the old man. With one step, Russell was upon him. He grabbed the lapels of his shabby, dirty coat and brought his face nose to nose with him. “WHAT DID YOU SAY TO ME THEN!”
“I said ‘Thank you, young man’.” The man said with just a hint of anger.
“THE WORD! THE WORD YOU SAID AFTER THAT!” Russell had no more control. Just as a drowning man would clutch a lifesaver, Russell gripped the old man.
“Yes. I said that word.” The old man said quietly.
“DO YOU KNOW WHAT IT MEANS!” Russell said as the two men of his party grabbed him and tried to pry him off the old man. They wrestled and pulled at Russell but a drowning man can summon fantastic strength when necessity dictates it. Russell felt that necessity and he easily stayed the two men to hold his position.
“I know what it means, young man.” The old cretin was saying. “Do you?”

Russell stopped struggling and stared at the man with wide eyes. The boyfriend and Wayne managed to pull Russell off the old man.

Russell did not recognize this man but if he knew the meaning of that word then he would know Russell’s secret. If he knew Russell’s secret then it was not just Russell’s secret. The thought of sharing his terrible burden made his load seem lighter. He felt a slight hope for his plight. Slight as it was it was still ‘hope’ nonetheless.

His heart had stopped beating and he had forgotten to breathe. He forced himself to breathe and got his heart started again. It raced at the thought of not being alone with his secret. He dared not hope.
Russell said, “It means ‘have a pleasant and safe voyage and may your…”
“…Trading be successful.” The old man finished with a faraway gaze.

The other two men of Russell’s party released him and stared at him and the old man. They tried vainly to comprehend the conversation. They could understand the words but the meaning escaped them. The girls waited on the path for them. They could all see that the violence was gone and Russell and the old man had something in common.

“Hey look the Freak has a father.” The boyfriend said.

Wayne let go of Russell and straightened his shirt for him. He asked Russell if he was OK. Russell nodded he was OK and Wayne left him to re-join the girls. The boyfriend snorted to himself and walked back to the girls.

“You know?” Russell said to the old man.
“Yes, I used to say it before each journey after double-checking the schedule.”
“Oh Gods of Travel, the schedule! I have not heard another voice it in so long that I was scared I would forget it.”
“In all these years, I have but heard two people speak it and now you are the third.”
“What happened to the others!”
“They know of my safe house and I leave them messages on the wall. I also have instructions and logs written on the walls as well.”
“A SAFE HOUSE! I need to know where it is!”

The old man gave Russell the whereabouts of the derelict building and the city it is in.

Russell’s group decided to move on and not wait for Russell. Cassandra called back to Russell to tell him where they were going. Russell vaguely waved a hand back to her as he focused fully on the words of the old man as he revealed the location of his safe house.

He acknowledged the old man that he understood where the building was and they both relaxed.

“I served on the Apollo Class III freighter, Diones.” Russell said as they walked up a small hill that would overlook the huge festival. Some couples were squirming under blankets in the heat of the Festival while others watched or simply meditated.
“Yes, I know that freighter. Captain Hidks was running it last I heard.” The old man said as he found an isolated place to sit. He unpacked some of his garbage onto the grass and they sat down.
“Captain Hidks retired and I served under Captain Showls.”
“Showls? Never heard of him. My ship was the Adgonia, the safest Arcadian transporter in the Federation of the United Stars.”

Russell felt a surge of emotion and wave after wave of tears hit him in the face. The old man consoled him for several minutes and eventually they passed.

“You OK, son?” The old man gave him a dirty handkerchief.
“Yes, I’m OK. I’m sorry about that. I’ve been ignoring it for so long I forgot that the grief was still there. I was feeling kind of safe and so stopped suppressing it. I feel a lot better, though.”
“Good man! Keep yourself going and pretty soon…”
“YOU WILL GET THERE!” They said in unison then laughed at their old Academy joke.

Some of the people on the hill thought their behavior strange even for a folk festival. Some that could hear snippets of their conversation became upset and moved away. Some even left the hill.

“What are you in for, Son?” The old man asked.
“In for?”
“Yes, what was your crime?
“My crime?” Russell said thickly. He felt quite wooden and blank. A surge of anger hit him. “I am not a criminal! I have always had the best intentions. I live my life by the rules and do my best…”
“… Not to make any trouble!” Said the Old Man. “Yes, yes, yes. I have heard it all before. THINK MAN! Think pasted that foggy, wooden feeling. Who is saying those things you just said? What can you see past the fog.”
“I… I… feel so tired.”
“NO. Keep trying to see past the fog.”
“There is a light coming through the fog. I SEE A BRIGHT LIGHT!”
“Good. What happens next?”
“There is a throbbing. A noise… Boom…Boom…Boom. There are some faces in the fog. They are getting clearer but I don’t recognize them.”
“Sure. Go back to the start and tell me again what happened.”
“Well… I… I fell so wooden. There is a light shining at me. A throbbing noise is all around me. Someone is saying something but I can make it out. It is a strange coloured light and it makes me feel wooden. There is a surge of pain each time there is a throb and the voice is quite mesmerizing.”
“Concentrate on the voice… What is it saying?”
“…It is…It is saying… IT IS SENTENCING ME. I have been tried and convicted for my crimes of Bravery in Ignorance of the Schedule and sentenced to prison planet Solaris P3.”
“Good. What else is the voice saying?”
“The voice has changed. No wait! The sentencing was earlier. I am now in a hanger or terminal or transfer station or something. I am strapped into a chair and the light is shinning on me. A huge gun-like apparatus is aimed at me and with each throb a photo ball hits me in the very centre of my being. A voice is saying, ‘I am not a criminal! I have always had the best intentions. I live my life by the rules and do my best not to make any trouble. You will forget your previous lives.”
“Well done. You have just taken your first step out of this hellhole.”
“Was that a memory?”
“Yep. Standard Operating Procedure for the Federation Maximum-Security Prison transfer station. Make ‘em dumb and dump ‘em glum. They wipe your memory as best they can and dump you on a prison planet. Have you been forgetting things?”
“YES! I am terrified that I will wake up one morning and not remember who I am and what I did. I find that I cannot remember things from the Federation and I have tried to talk to others in my family or friends. They regard me with suspicion and talk secretively behind my back. I think it scares them.”
“I found myself in this body,” The Old Man said, “but I could remember bits and pieces. I tried to talk to others too only to have them shun me so then I started to write down what I knew. I had been in such conflict with the will to remember versus the urge to forget. How easily I could have just accepted the world I was born into on this planet and played out the life of… I think I was developing into a Finance Officer or Banker or something like that. The father of this body was a Banker.

“Anyway, I think that some part of you, as a being, never truly forgets the truth. So when someone embraces a false life here on this prison planet, some part of him or her still recognizes truth. When you speak of your true identity, they recognize it and react. They are now part of this trap and so they react to keep you in this trap.

“I soon penetrated that foggy memory as you have just done and found much the same content as what you have given me. My crime was ‘Speaking Out against the Schedule’.

“One fine day, a snooping relative found my notes. They were given to the school psychologist and he announces that I was plum crazy. I was given over to custody of the state. I was given the very best medical care and treatment the psychiatric profession possesses. I can’t remember how many electric shocks I was given before being introduced to the chemical shock treatments they were perfecting.

“Then came the mind-bending psychotropic drugs. I don’t remember much at all, even now, of what happened but I do remember the overwhelming desire to kill after taking the drugs. It was like a lust. I couldn’t get a hold of anything to kill so I tried to kill myself. I fought the urge with all my will but each new injection of drugs made the urge stronger.

“I awoke from my drug-induced fog to find a male nurse undoing my straps and moving me to another room. It was an operation room! I finally got my chance to kill and I ended the male nurse’s life.

“I escaped just before my scheduled ‘lobotomy’ operation and have been missing ever since.

“I secured my safe house and started writing from my battered and broken memories. As I wrote, fractured pieces fell together like a puzzle.”

After writing my notes though, I realized that I needed a permanent record of what I knew so I carved everything on the walls of the safe house. I did it not just for others like us but also for me. The body I have now is old and will die quite soon. With each new body comes more and more forgetfulness and I don’t want to go through that painful fog of trying to remember again so the permanent record will help me to remember.

“I have to get off this planet next lifetime or the trap will be sprung and I will never remember enough to retain my identity…” The old man seemed to be lost in some memory.
“What is your identity?” Russell asked.
“Oh! I beg your pardon. I am Star Commander Reginald T Dwight.”
“Gods of the Voyage!” Russell whispered under his sharp intake of breath. “I have read of you and even studied some of your manuals.”
“Yes, some of them are standard Academy issue.”
“But you were killed in the Antiock Invasion. They even recovered your body.”
“True but they did not mention recovering the being, did they?”
“I don’t remember reading anything about that. It is standard procedure for the spiritual being to report beck to command for de-briefing before acquiring a new body. I assumed that you had reported back and were assigned a new body.”
“No, they forgot to mention that I reported back for de-brief, subdued with a sleep light and taken to the Federation Maximum-Security Prison transfer station. I was charged with ‘Speaking Out Against The Schedule’ and knew nothing about a trial or who accused me. Just a quick zap, suck and spitoong then here I am, dodging psychs and eating garbage. The only thing I can think of that applied to the charge was uttering a protest against the tightness of the schedule demanding that the invasion be finished by the end of the fiscal year. But that was a protest against an administrator not the actual schedule and the only one that heard it was… the new gods-damned Navigator. He was fresh out of Nav School and wet-behind-the-grids.”
“All Navigators swear allegiance to the Schedule code and must consider themselves separate from the crew at all times.”
“I know that but…”
“Well…Some of the professors even harbor contempt for certain captains and star commanders that… well… seem a little showy… that stand out from the crowd.”
“You mean bucked the system to get the job done.”
“Now Commander, I did not say that. I have been in the service for a number of lifetimes and have seen the Officers complete the most impossible of tasks under the most strenuous duress. But it is up to the individual Navigator to determine whether the code of conduct or the code of the Schedule has been breached. ‘If in doubt send the report out’ is the catch-cry. The young Navigator simply did not know enough to make a decision and so reported it. Someone else up the line signed your penalty slip.”

The old man was no longer listening. He was examining the young man and trying to make a decision. Russell felt very uncomfortable under the scrutiny and looked down over the festival.

The old man finally made his decision and formulated a plan. “You are a Navigator, yes?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Do you want to leave this planet and return to the Federation?”
“Of course.”
“Then you are to find the safe house, the building of records, that I described to you earlier and tend it. You may maintain it and keep it readable. You may add to it but you must never alter the data I have written there. Do you swear to uphold this?”
“I swear on my honour as a Officer of the Fleet.”
“Very well.” The old man accepted his word and began taking apart all his possessions. He sorted through the junk and garbage choosing bits and pieces. He placed the bits and pieces on the ground and made an arrangement that befuddled Russell. “You do not have to live in the Records building but you do have to frequent it from time to time. After several years, a small boy will appear at the site. He will be shy and will not approach you. You must do everything in your power to befriend him and protect him. He will be confused and dis-orientated so do all you can to comfort him. UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES ARE YOU TO TELL HIM ANYTHING OF THE FEDERATION! Is that understood!”
“Yes Sir.”
“Very good. You will not be needed at the safe house until five years from now.

“During those five years, your time is yours but I suggest that you visit the strange places of this planet of which the inhabitants do not understand. In these places are clues that a Navigator can use to set the time clock and pre-determine orbits, freighter runs and data probes. I have a photo of one of these places…” The old man rummaged around in his junk.

He tossed aside dozens of balls of paper, plastic plates, cups, knives, spoons, rolls of foil, dolls, figurines, toys, model space craft, bits of metal and plastic, screws, nuts, bolts and junk! He finally held out a soiled, crumpled old newspaper clipping and gave it to Russell.

Russell smoothed it out and examined it. It was a story about Stonehenge in England. He had seen and read about this rock formation before but paid little heed. There were two photos of the stones and an aerial diagram of the formation. The old man had at some stage drawn a ball in the exact centre of the diagram. From this ball came two drawn symmetrical arms, one on each side, and they overlaid the stones.

Russell knew exactly what they were and what they purpose and function of the erected stones were. He searched his pocket for a pen and found it. He drew in hyperbolic grids and concentric circles to trace the obits. He rapidly did calculations down the side of the page and when he ran out of room he ransacked the old man’s possessions.

He furiously scribbled equations and estimates and the old man watched in keen interest. Slowly a rough-looking schedule appeared down the right hand column of one of the dirty pages.

The old man watched in interest but was nodding to himself.

Russell sat back finally spent. Tears were visible on his cheeks.

“That was the first time I have really tested my knowledge!” Russell said. “I know what I know but in the darker times during this life here, I have had an odd moment of doubt. Did I really, truly believe that I am a banished officer of an alien civilization and that I really do have knowledge of all this higher technology. And here it is, finally, on paper.”

The old man put out his hand for the notes. Russell clutched the notes in his hand and drew then to his chest. They sat there for a while on the darkened hill overlooking a gay and lively festival below in the valley.

Russell finally relaxed and passed his notes to the old man. “You know,” Russell said in uneven breath, “I can let you look at them but then I will have to kill you!”

Russell began to laugh, slow at first and then harder and harder. The old man enjoyed the joke as it is forbidden for a Navigator to reveal the inner workings of the Schedule.

He took out a lighter and set the notes on fire. By the time Russell had seen them catch, it was too late. He snatched them back and threw them on the ground. Russell stamped the fire out but there was little left and it just looked like insane scribble.

“WHY DID YOU DO THAT!” Russell screamed at the old man.
“If you did it once then you can do it again.” The old man said.

Russell thought it over and he visibly relaxed. He sat down again

“Just by us being here and having this conversation,” The old man continued, “we are in danger of being attacked by the populace of this festival. If they saw a potion of the schedule without even knowing what it was, they would have ripped us to shreds.”
“I know that but I don’t know why?” Russell said.
“Because they are also prisoners on this planet. There are very few inhabitants that are native to this planet. I have not found any and I have traveled extensively.

“Their implants have taken effect. They HAVE forgotten everything about the Federation. They are dumb and have stayed glum. However, for all they have forgotten or forsaken, they are still immortal, spiritual beings trapped in a meat body. Thus, they will recognize truth of the past when they see it and they will react like a wild animal to a strange sound. They will run and hide or they will attack if they feel cornered.”

He watched to old man resume making his arrangement of trash. Slowly, his attention drifted off into the festival below and he watched the beginnings of the Fire Ceremony. The shapes and symbols being created and displayed were very reminiscent of the conglomerate of cultures that was the Federation of United Stars. He could see many similarities but they had lost their significance and order. They were being touted as remedies, warnings and answers but where simply symbols representing those that actually accomplished those duties.

The old man had finished his arrangement and then simply lay down in the centre of it.

Russell watched the festival below as the symbols of the mighty battalions had become nothing more than arm patches while the flags and dress of the Curists had become symbols of witches. The medical treatments had sullied into ‘herbal cures’ and the power of sound was no more than chanting and drums. The fire ceremony was supposed to be about the birth of a sun and the formation of planets that give life to the cultures but this ceremony was about burning the old to make way for the new. The Phoenix was such a limited view of his culture that Russell felt too big for this planet.

He promised himself that he would escape this prison planet and return to his home.

He looked over at the old man as he lay in the middle of the arrangement. He looked asleep but Russell was not sure. He looked again. There was no movement of the chest and he was very silent. Russell already knew that he had come to the festival to die. As limited in view as it was, it was still the closest thing on this planet that remotely resembled home.

Russell stood and stretched his legs. He felt around the area to find the being that was the old man.
He located him near the body and the being flowed energy to Russell. The energy felt like friendship, like family, like affinity.

Russell smiled then turned and walked away. He left the festival and gathered his gear. He walked out the gate and kept walking.


He made it home some days later. His mother was surprised to see him. She thought aliens had abducted him and she was late for work anyway. She told him that he should get a job then he won’t have time to entertain such wild imaginings. She left the house.

Dad had left the house years ago probably for the same reasons.

There were several phone messages from Cassandra so he decided to call her to let her know he was safe. Russell wondered if Cassandra would be able to think with the truth. She had obviously forgotten her past as most others on this planet but he did like her and perhaps she could join them on their escape.

He dialed the number.


Several days later, Russell arrived in a small outback town described to him by the old man. It wasn’t long before he was outside what looked to be an old, two-story bank. Out the back was a shed. Russell located the workbench. Under it was a nail and hanging on the nail was a key to the front door.

Russell went back to the rental car and showed the key to Cassandra. She took it skeptically and got out of the car. She walked to the front door.

“Before we go inside,” Cassandra turned to Russell. “I have some questions.”
“Shoot.” Russell gave her his full attention.
“Have you forgiven me for my behavior at the Folk Festival?
“Of course. And I promise to be more of a man and stand up for the integrity of my girlfriend. I promise not to think so much and to concentrate on what others are saying. Finally, I promise that I agree that other people can have important and interesting things to say. All I have to do is listen.”
“Thank you. So, inside this building is the writing of the old man.” Cassandra said. “What he wrote will convince me that my life is actually a lie and that I am a prisoner on this planet!”
“That’s pretty much it, yes.”
“If… If I go in here and it is nothing more than the ramblings of a madman then would you promise to forget this… stuff and live a normal life with me. I would be willing to do it for you.”

Russell stumbled. He could never pollute his Navigator technology for any of the shadowy, watered-down technology of this planet. He did know that if Cassandra read what he knew was in here, she would awaken, as it were.

He gambled, choosing to ignore the negative, “Yes, I would do that for you.”

Cassandra hugged him heartily then turned to open the door. The mood dropped instantly. She did not know why she was afraid because she was totally sure that it was simply the ramblings of a madman that had approximated Russell’s own flawed psych. She did like him a lot and was quite prepared to help him through his problem. Part of that help was to ‘flush the spooks out of his closet’ and the first spook to go was that of the old man.

They entered the door into the shop front. It was just an empty store with some counters and desks. There was a door at the back and they moved towards it. Russell was very tense. He concentrated on his feeling and realized it was an energy flow. He traced it back and felt that a being was occupying a corner of the room.

Russell dismissed the thought and told himself he was being spooky again. He needed to not think so much and get on with living his life. Cassandra was part of that life…maybe.

However, he knew his secret and had lived every single conflicted day with it. In this building was proof of it, proof that it really was true. This was also a chance to prove to another trapped being the truth about this planet.

Every self-doubt he had was now jamming his mind for attention.

They opened the back door to reveal stairs leading up.

Like a sudden revelation, Russell could see that he was simply being misled. The whole thing was really just his imagination trying to explain away a quirk in his personality that made him antisocial and cut him off from the rest of the world. He could almost hear the school psychologist now. It was simply a childhood fantasy concocted to overcome the feelings of inadequacies Russell had in dealing with other people.

Russell had withdrawn into the fantasy so far that it had become real. Only with the reality that a love like Cassandra can create was strong enough to break the fantasy and force Russell back into reality. Now the lack of proof in this dilapidated building will bring the rest of the fantasy crashing down and he can complete the adjustment into normal life. He will be able to settle with Cassandra and forget all about the Federation nonsense and begin his real life.

The old man was nothing more than a simple-minded street person telling lie after lie to get whatever could be taken without paying for it. Did the old man really say the word first or did Russell say it and the old man simply picked up on it.

Russell wrestled with himself all the way up the back stairs and onto the landing.

Cassandra was in front of him and had already entered the upper floor. She had stopped and he ran into the back of her.

She was looking at the walls.

Russell looked to.

It was all there. Russell jumped about excitedly, pointing out things to Cassandra and explaining them. A brief history of the star commander was written next to the explanation of the Federation Maximum-Security Prison transfer station. There were thrust equations, gravity calculus, flow charts, anti-gravity equations, proportional calculus, Boolean algebra and more. Next to those were chemical formulas for alloys, paints and fuels. There were diagrams of circuits for weapons, control panels, guidance systems, computers, fuel cells, life support systems, crop biospheres and more. It was all there except the navigational data but that was all in his head.

They could get off this planet.

Cassandra had a look of pity as she dropped the key. Russell could not comprehend her face. A tear fled down one cheek before she turned.

Then she was gone.

He went to the window to see her at the car. His bags were now on the footpath as the car started up and drove down the road. Russell watched numbly as the car turned onto the highway and was gone.

He was stunned and could not get his wits around it. It was all there, chiselled into the walls, the ceiling and the floor. There were rooms full of data. They weren’t scrawls or misshapen letters, they were legible and even the diction was of the correct Federation requirement.

Then he understood and looked at the records again. They were written in the official language of the Federation of United Stars.



The End.