Fortis joined George in the lower deck, feeding, brushing and cleaning up behind the animals. He learned the common term for them was “coursers.” During the journey across the polar island, it seemed they ate all the grass they could get. Once onboard, they grew eerily quiescent, eating far less of the dried forage stowed below deck for them.
George explained, “This long period of inactivity is very hard on them. When we dock, they’ll need some hard riding.”
“Does that fit in with our planned activities on Johnston Island?”
“Well, no. They are borrowed, as is the ship and the wagon. The food was provided, as well. Only the tent and a few belongings are actually my personal baggage. So when we land, the Harbor Master will take possession of them and notify the owner.” George began gathering the tools and climbed to the rear deck.
Fortis followed. “Give me the bigger picture. Somehow my arrival, or that of any other visitor, must be quite significant, because this represents quite an investment.”
George began pulling his personal baggage out of the wagon, setting it on the deck. “When we discerned the time was ripe for expecting a peaceful contact, the Council of Sheiks met and decided it was worth ensuring there would always be someone on station at our primitive space port at all times. The task was delegated and elders were selected from each tribe, by clan, and various promises were made for exchange of goods to offset the costs for Clan Johnston. This is the closest clan home to the pole, and all of us selected for the welcome committee are being hosted here,” waving his hand at the now visible island.
Fortis saw a low, gently sloping green hump rising from the sea. He had learned to expect trees at the lower elevations, with grass on the higher lands, but nothing much higher than a few meters. Aside from natural springs or wells, the only water was from the sea. While extensive research and development had made desalination a relatively minor task, so that even the ship itself relied on it, there was also an industry in capturing the night mists as cheaper and less troublesome. Water was easier to move and distribute when it was already uphill from the users. George had showed him the water collection tubing built into his tent, and the bladder where it was held.
As they drew closer, Fortis could see the clan banner atop a pole mounted on the hill nearest their southern approach, but also saw a large number of brilliant fabrics fluttering and moving around the pole, apparently randomly scattered. “Are those water captures?”
Glancing up, George smiled. “No, those are kites. We encourage kite making by students and hobbyists. The wind is a major natural resource, and we are constantly seeking improved means for harvesting its power. Kite design over the centuries has yielded significant advancements, both in materials and shapes. Clan Johnston is a leader in this endeavor.”
As George continued loading the loose equipment into the wagon, or stowing on the ship, Fortis stared silently at the kites. “Privilege and reputation are a major item of exchange, then?”
“Very perceptive!” George laughed. “Which brings up an important issue. You are currently the most valuable commodity on this planet.”
Fortis turned red with embarrassment. Stammering, “I… I’m used to being treated well… But I hardly see myself…”
“Think in symbols, Fortis. If all you do is send your ship and spooler home, we will in a few years have trade missions coming to visit. Our few surviving metal imports are nearly worn out. It’s not just better equipment we need, but just keeping our current level of comfort requires replacement. Naturally, human comfort itself is a mirage from the mystical viewpoint, but keeping ourselves alive and productive is critical to far greater concerns.”
“Some rising threat to the galaxy?” Fortis remembered the previous hints, but had respectfully waited for George to discuss it at his leisure.
“That, but you would almost be missing the point if that were the whole matter. We do see a major threat, and we believe we have a solution, in a manner of speaking. But that in itself is the means to a greater end. The threat is a symptom of some deep darkness, for lack of a better term.” George finished moving his personal baggage to the foredeck.
Fortis joined him at the steering controls one last time, as the stone and wood dock was now visible as the nearest fixture they were approaching. George continued, “The part you play as a fellow mystic lies entirely in your hands. I’m sure you’ll want to learn as much as possible, but at some point the rest of the galaxy needs to know we are here. We must cultivate an acceptance for our uniqueness, as we seek to rebuild what has fallen in the wider galactic human culture. There are no words for it, but I believe you already know, in some sense. No one can stop the ultimate end of humankind, but we dare not let the light be extinguished, and the portal to the Other Realm be lost.”
