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9.1 - Dont Argue with a Scarecrow

  Hoisted on the shoulders of a tall cliff in the southern tip of the Mintorn Mountains, a colossal complex of concrete and steel towered over the locks and dams of the River Swift far below. Seven stories of laboratories and offices rose into the sky, culminating in an airstrip for flyrs at the top of the building. Two more stories descended into the bedrock of the mountains, forming a solid base that enabled Filstar Labs to withstand the fierce storms that swept south from the Three Seas twice a year.

  In the lowest floor of this building, where the orange beams of Myria could never penetrate, Hans Terpaa was peering out of a barred door. The only source of illumination was a dim light-button on the wall outside the room. He was holding his nose in an effort to stave off nausea. “It's too dark,” he grumbled. “Just more cages, at least for the three feet I can see. I'll bet they leave us in this miserable lake for a week.”

  “Never fear! Where there's a will, there's a way. We'll be outta this basement in no time,” said Nyck in a much too cheerful voice.

  Hans turned, sloshing through the water to the other side of the room. Nyck was on his knees, scraping the wall with the pin formerly used to affix his Hake symbol to his straw shirt. Below him, a ring of soggy grass floated in the rank water.

  “Wow,” muttered Hans. “That's quite the scratch.” Hans slumped backwards against a row of empty cages in hopelessness. “You can start a new one tomorrow and use them to count the days.”

  “If you two helped instead of moping around, we'd be out of here in no time,” protested Nyck.

  “You're the one mopping, with that blasted straw of yours.”

  “Hey, you've got a pin, and that pet of yours has sharp claws. If we all worked together–”

  “You do know that behind that wall is, in all likelihood, a half mile of solid bedrock? We are in the middle of a mountain range.”

  “Maybe there's another room.”

  “Another locked room.” Hans stared into the darkness, wondering if he and his companions would ever see daylight again. He wished he had been born a Sheek… free to do anything he pleased. What had he done to deserve this?

  Nyck's scratching had stopped. The straw-wearing Sheepel turned, splashing in the water as he sat down, leaning against the wall. “You're feeling pretty lousy, aren't you, Hans? I wish I could cheer you up.” He sighed. “Hans, I know we're in a terrible situation, but what's the point of worrying about it? What if there's a Reason for it All–and we're supposed to be here?”

  “I don't really want to hear about your Reason for it All right now,” muttered Hans.

  Nyck put a hand on Hans’ shoulder. “No, I'm serious. I know someone who suffered much more than this. On the surface, he was a hero, yet his life was spent going in and out of enemy prisons, fleeing the Sheek Authority, and leading a hopeless bunch of wannabe pilots. He was famous for his victories, but there were just as many disasters. The same is true of us. We're in a tough spot, but there is a way out! And when we find it, we will understand why we had to go through this. Good will come out of this, I am certain. It's what Quinn would say if he were here.”

  “Quinn? You knew Quinn? The Quinn?”

  “Yes. He was a master at his game… he pulled us through to the very end, until even he could do no more. But I trust that he'll return, greater than ever. The scrolls speak of a leader who will save us and destroy the Sheeks… it is he, I am certain. And when he… do you hear something?”

  “Is coming,” said an eerie voice. In the darkness, Hans had forgotten V'han was there.

  A beam of light flooded the room as the door opened and two Sheeks in white lab coats stepped in, peering at the prisoners in the darkness.

  “That's them all right. Just like it said. Almost feel sorry for 'em, stuck down here in the cold.”

  “Yeah well, they won't be cold much longer. Hurry up… my feet are soaking.”

  The first scientist stuck a key in the lock and opened the barred door. “Come on out, and don't try anything funny. We've got potions that'll freeze your blood in seconds. So follow us.”

  “Where to?” asked Hans. “Are you letting us go?”

  “We're letting you go somewhere, that's for sure. You heard of Hykalondicate?”

  “No, but we're Hake citizens. See, we have our symbols. We demand to be released.”

  “Hakes ain’t got rights, and we have orders. Now get a move on it.” The three prisoners were led down the hallway to a narrow staircase. The foremost scientist paused as they reached ground floor. “What room is it?”

  The other inspected a small card. “Room 5b. That's odd; I thought the experiment today was higher up.”

  “Maybe it's some special conditioning. That'll be fun to watch.”

  “What's Hykalate?” asked Nyck.

  A scientist chuckled. “Hykalondicate. It makes you disappear. When mixed with Hykalondicore, that is. Thanks to the Kopact Bill we can't experiment on animals anymore, so we rely on volunteers like you.”

  “V'han is not volunteer for this. V'han should not be here.”

  “It’s right,” said the other scientist. “V'hogle are a protected species. We could get in trouble for having it.”

  The first scientist shrugged. “The memo said to bring all three. Maybe they'll release the V'hogel. I guess we'll find out in a minute.” The group continued up the winding stairs.

  “Where do the volunteers disappear to?” asked Hans with suspicion.

  “Who knows. We'd ask 'em, but they're gone. Over twenty Sheeple have been vanished… not a trace of them can be found.”

  “Except Fobbie,” reminded the first scientist. “We found Fobbie.”

  “Oh yeah,” affirmed the other with a chuckle. “All three hundred pieces of him. And in another room. It was not a pretty sight… took forever to clean up.” The scientist smiled. “I didn't tell you this, but if you see them mixing sodium chloride with the Hykalondicate… run for your life.”

  The group had left the stairwell and was walking down a narrow hallway on the fifth floor. A few scientists scurried past, ignoring them. The lunch timer had just gone off in their stomachs and they were on a mission to stop it.

  “Here it is, 5b. Equipment. Hmm, didn't know they were running tests in here.” He raised a claw to knock on the door just as it swung open.

  Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

  “Send them in,” said a Sheek wrapped in a thick lab coat and wearing goggles. “You’re just in time.”

  “But, you're–” exclaimed Nyck in shock, stopping himself abruptly. Even with the disguise, Nyck recognized Daved Breggs, the unkempt Wanderer who a few days ago had helped push his vehic into the sea.

  “Thank you sirs. That will be all.” Daved tried to shut the door, but a scientist stuck his foot to catch it.

  “You're lucky to have three test subjects. Been awhile since the last ones. I think the Authorities got nervous about sending prisoners here after what happened to Fobbie.”

  “Yep, it’s lucky these three came in.”

  “Who are you, anyway? Are you new here?”

  “Name's Avva Burger. I'm new here, on a research grant. I'm working on the Hykalondicate Experiment slated for this afternoon. Need these test subjects to try some new parameters before the run.”

  A scientist frowned. “You have the proper clearance for this?”

  The other scientist pulled out the clearance card and waved it in frustration. “Come on, stop wasting time. Says here this operation was approved by Barth himself. I want to get to the canteen before the burgers are gone.”

  “Burgers. Avva Burger.” The first scientist stepped into the room as Daved Breggs stepped backwards. “Can I see your ID?”

  “I thought you might want to see it. It's right this way, just across this rope. You too, come on. You'll both be excited to see what I've been working on.”

  The scientists followed Daved into the room, looking around at the junk scattered everywhere.

  “Somethin’ fishy’s going on here,” muttered one.

  The two scientists were standing by a desk. A rope was running along the floor in a circle around them. Daved shut the door and hit a switch. A second later, the scientists found themselves hanging from the ceiling, a thick cord of tallgrass twine wrapped around them. “I've got my potion!” exclaimed one wildly, struggling for his pocket. “We’ll get you for this!”

  “No, stop squirming,” protested the other. There was a popping sound as a bottle opened somewhere between the two. “Aaah! My leg's freezing!”

  “Look what you did! Aaaarghs!”

  “Let us down right now,” they demanded weakly, but they were already struggling less. Daved grabbed them as a bundle, shoving them into a closet. There was a muffled sound of thumping.

  “Padded the thing with tarp to keep the sound down, though I didn't count on them helping me out with that potion of theirs. I hope it's not lethal. Do you guys know what it was?”

  “Something about freezing blood I think,” offered Hans.

  “Hmmm. Well, I did ask them to leave.”

  “Daved Breggs,” accused Nyck. “What are you doing here? You're not really going to make us disappear, are you?”

  “Of course not. I'm the one disappearing, at three-o'clock. But I heard some prisoners had been taken in with a green chair, and did some investigating. The scientists here were very friendly and more than happy to show me around the building.”

  “Wouldn't have guessed it,” muttered Hans.

  Daved addressed Nyck, grinning. “When I found out it was you they'd captured, I knew I had to do one last good deed before I disappeared. You inspired me, you know.”

  “I did?”

  “Absolutely. All that stuff about a Reason for it All… I decided to give my life for science. Science benefits us all, Sheek and Hake. It is scientists who are solving mysteries, discovering new things. And who knows, I might learn something new. Just because I'm not here doesn't mean I'm not somewhere.”

  “Uh, glad I could help.”

  Hans looked around nervously. “So how do we get out of here?”

  “That's easy. Hop on this cart.” Daved kicked a stack of bins off a large cart, scooped up a brown Alltarp from the desk, and draped it over the top. “I'll push you to the airstrip on the roof. You can have my flyr and get out of here. I don't need it anymore.”

  “You really are obsessed with twine and Alltarp, aren't you?” asked Nyck, climbing into the cart.

  “And choppers. But I couldn't get those past security so I had to make do without. Fortunately, they're letting me bring all three on my trip, and in generous quantities.”

  Daved cinched the tarp tightly, circling the cart to ensure its contents were concealed. “Now don't make any noise. We're going out.” He opened the door and pushed the heavy cart into the hallway, leaving the muffled sound of moaning scientists behind them. The hall was empty. “They weren't kidding. This place is dead at lunchtime.”

  The cargo lift was also empty and so too was the roof. “That's a lucky break for us,” said Daved, undoing the tarp. “No one up here but us.”

  Hans, V'han and Nyck stretched their limbs and looked out over the edge of the building. “This is amazing,” said Nyck. “Look at it all! Miles and miles of mountains. We're at the same level as their peaks. We must be forty-two miles up! I can't even see the River Swift; only a tiny canyon winding far below. But what a canyon… from the Three Seas to Talmyn, cutting through a rampart of sheer rock! It is incredible!”

  “Yes, nice. Come on,” urged Daved. “Someone could show up any minute. Here's my flyr. Don't know how much gas is left, but you should get a little way, at least. I didn’t think anyone would be using it. But I don't want to donate it to the government, so please take it as far as you can. And don't get caught!”

  “Thanks, Daved. I hope we aren't putting you in danger.”

  “Nah, I'll be gone before anyone can trace this to me. Speaking of which… My appointment is in four minutes… I have to run! Have a good life. Nice to meet you both,” he added to Hans and V'han.

  Daved turned and hurried into the complex, pushing the empty cart in with him. “Odd chap,” said Hans. “I hope he's okay.” He looked up at the flyr. It was old and rusted, covered in hundreds of tiny patches and several colors of paint. “Are you sure this is safe to fly?”

  “It got him here, didn't it? I'll fly this beast. A real fixer-upper… I'm pretty sure that's tallgrass twine holding the door on. Everyone in, before they catch us standing around.”

  “You can fly?” Hans eyed the scarecrow uneasily.

  “I think so. I was a data provider in the war, but I hung around the pilots often enough. And this is just a civilian flyr, albeit older than Dorthar.”

  A minute later, the flyr was coughing black smoke as it rose from Filstar Labs. A startled air traffic controller wondered if he should report the unauthorized takeoff, but then decided that whoever it was shouldn't have been parked on the Lab in the first place. Somewhere on the fifth floor, a closet was still rattling. Other than these few, no one else knew the prisoners had left. Most weren’t even aware the prisoners had arrived.

  Nyck brought the flyr over the Raustin Mountains, too enraptured to care about the orange sparks shooting out of the front engine compartment. “This thing works! We’re free!”

  “Yes,” said Hans. “That Wanderer went the whole nine yards for us.”

  “I wonder how his own adventure will fare him.”

  “Perhaps one day we’ll find out. But what about us… where are we supposed to go? I know this isn’t the last we’ll see of the Sheeks. And with the Hakes' Area overrun, the entire planet is under their control. It’s hopeless–even with a flyr.”

  Hans’ desperation reminded Nyck of a situation long ago, of something he’d once been told, but had since slid to the side of his mind. He wanted to say something to calm Hans’ fears, but only a sigh escaped his lips. He had no idea which direction to fly or what to say. At the moment, his only goal was adding miles between their sputtering flyr and Filstar Labs.

  And then, he began to remember. How could I have forgotten? Where was I? Ah, yes–I was on the bridge, near the window. Nyck set the flyr's engine to Auto, flying at a constant altitude to nowhere in particular and looked out the window at the mountains below. That’s strange. The speedometer isn't working, but I’d estimate we’re going twice as fast as this thing should be capable of. That Daved must have really souped up the engine. Nyck watched the land below speed by. Memories began to flood him. Yes–yes! I was standing on the war-flyr's bridge, telling Quinn–no, asking Quinn what we would do… where we could go when it all ended and the Sheeks defeated us… and he said… um… I had asked a question, about what we would do, how we would survive. Something about his answer… something he said…

  The Raustin Mountains grew shorter and sparser until the vast Selfarian Plains dominated the view. The yellow shortgrass far below reminded Nyck of the expressionless desolation of The Zone. We were above The Zone, and Quinn was about to leave. I asked him where he would go; where we would all go. And he said: 'For every catastrophe, a desert lies unspoiled.'

  Nyck smiled. Suddenly, it made sense. Quinn had told him where he’d be hiding: a place even the Sheeks wouldn’t bother looking. In the greatest desert of the planet, there he would be found. The rumors of Hakes gathering in the Burning Wilderness suddenly made sense. “Hans, you’ll never guess where we’re going.”

  “Where?”

  “Straight to the edge of despair. Ever seen a desert?”

  “Never wanted to. Though, I never wanted to see most of the places I've ended up lately.”

  “Well, sit back and enjoy the view while you can. The endless miles of sand can drive a Sheepel mad.”

  “Too late for that,” muttered Hans. For your part at least.

  Nyck circled the small, sputtering flyr around so it was heading northeast. “Let's hope there's enough gas to make it there. The fuel gauge on this contraption has been on 'E' ever since we left. With any luck, it's just broken like everything else.”

  Hans didn't bother asking about the sudden desire to tour a desert famous only for its ability to fry eggs without an actual fire. At this point, a hot air balloon could float past offering a swimming excursion in the Ghal River and he'd go along for the ride. He had no home and no purpose. If an insane scarecrow had a plan, Hans wasn't going to argue.

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