Fortis finally got to see a message bird. It came low across the water, surprisingly fast. In front of the harbor house it tipped upward, stalled, then simply dropped slowly to the ground. The Harbor Master walked with George over to retrieve it. George pressed his pocket device to a tiny thick spot in the fabric. It took only a couple of seconds to download the data, then upload various judicial decisions.
They sat on the dock of Clan Bradley’s main harbor, having arrived with the warrant for Charley’s supplier three days before. The man had quickly admitted his family’s role in shipping the silica in exchange for food and supplies. He also showed them the small shop which made the tiny cylinders, with the homemade rig for fracturing water using salvaged scrap metal. There was a compressor which had required two modified wind turbines. He had it engineered and built it all within his own househould, using profits from the silica trade. He admitted charging far more than was fair. After turning over all his logs, George had calculated the tonnage and compared with other known shipping data. After conferring with Sheik Bradley, it was decided the man would continue the shipments, but be assessed a much higher rate until someone else took over the franchise. Keeping the silica flowing was more important than punishment.
The updated report this day confirmed George’s suspicions. Charley’s clan got together and simply voted him out of office for refusing to give into their desire to join civilization. Stories were a bit confused, but near as the rangers could determine, Charley was the grandson of the original technician. He had killed off several cousins and uncles and resented the necessity of enticing rangers and other prisoners to prevent too much inbreeding. The few surviving men in his household were those who didn’t challenge his rule. After deposing Charley, they all decided to leave and enjoy the relatively light service as probationers preparing to covenant with other clans. Two large households volunteered to explore the possibility of occupying the crater area. While living initially on houseboats, they had already created a harbor which gave access to a slender grassy shelf just west of the area.
The ranger station became a prison colony while the ranger operation was reformed. With the other changes, they would soon continue prisoner detention in the same vicinity as before, but farther from the crater. Several commanders from different clans were preparing to meet and reorganize in light of the recommendations George made about keeping families together, and creating ranger households. This had delayed them almost a month on the ranger station, overseeing the transition. The twins were made ranger captains, and sent home with their new wives to organize a ranger household. The Farrells were mostly hunters already.
Finally, a large number of former prisoners infected with the democracy heresies were offered a chance to volunteer for staffing the new Johnston Foreign Service Academy, which was next door to the religion school at Johnston Island. The classes in religion were free and mandatory as part of the deal for them.
George had advised Fortis to also make a copy from the bird and begin learning how to make use of the data exchange with his relatively new device. As he scanned the various notices, George’s face went white, then slightly red. A scowl slowly set in on his features. Then he groaned and turned away, dropping his device down to his side.
Fortis looked up, scanned quickly through the documents. Then he saw it. The Sheiks had long ago set up the provisions for activating the Special Magistrate office. They had attached to it a proviso for making the office permanent if the space port was ever opened again to trade. George had been ordered to retain the vestments and prepare to establish a space port on the pole. He was given the status of a sheik, and his relatives were invited to join him in building several permanent structures for the port. As a quasi-clan, their colors would be the black and white he already wore. The other sheiks had drawn up an advance agreement to support the space port through increased taxation from whatever trade concessions they had gained.
“Don’t like the pole much, George?”
“You know better than that. All I ever wanted was to go home and regain my duties as village elder.”
“We won’t be very far from each other. Just three weeks of sailing,” Fortis offered.
“That’s probably the only light in my personal darkness right now, my dear friend. Space Port Master! Sheik!” He groaned more loudly and dropped his face into his free hand. “The space ships have already begun arriving. I have to leave right away to get it all under control.”
“And I have to finish the recruiting mission alone.” Fortis tried to look unhappy, but he was frankly glad George had been chosen.
George looked up and put on a fatherly face. “My friend, you need to seriously consider accepting the next plausible marriage offer. You will never make it without that support. Just trust the Lord and plunge in, because it will work out just the same as everything else. Given God’s sense of humor,” rolling his eyes, “you’ll end up with a huge family.”
They both laughed heartily.
The Chronicles of Misty can be found here. The final book of the story is there already. Thanks for reading.
