INSTINCT (Part 2)
Chapter 20 of Senses
Definition: Training Structure.
In the training of new inductees, one must be taught by one of the inductee's class, but one with several ages of experience. If none is available, a class three may be appropriate.
Hello, Mats here.
Training of the different classes varies greatly. For me it was a few days of sleep learning and two flying sessions to make certain it had all soaked in. It leaves you with one mean headache, but you learn it.
It was the first day of real training when I asked about class nines and got that teacher canned. I asked some experienced pilots when a new instructor showed up on day two and was told that it was unusual for a flight instructor to be replaced.
The quick training was key to one thing that ended up in the record books; I discovered M212-61-34atg, my first class M, six weeks after induction.
And on Tuesday I discovered another.
Well, after all that bullshit counsel and I ('drink) believe it's time I admitted it. I know full well what I do. There's no reason not to admit it anymore. After all, to The Foundation, it's no secret.
For some reason, I can utilize 100 percent of my brain. I don't know why. Neither does The Foundation.
Consider that for a moment. What does this mean?
It means I can read minds, although I rarely use that talent, even when needed. It's an ugly talent at best. I can deduce the future, in a very limited fashion. I know when I'm sick and I can force myself to cure myself. I can identify a person from a mile away if I've met them once. I can accentuate any of my senses. I can be telekinetic. I can pull objects out of thin air (earlier in this narration for example, when I gave Debbie her ring) provided I know the composition. I can do anything, provided I learn it once (I can't do everything yet).
It means I'm hot shit.
It means I never get any peace, so I never use it.
Until this moment I've always denied I have this ability. Oh, Debbie knows, as does Mats and a few others by now, but on Earth it's best kept a secret.
Face it, most Terrans have this thing about "Supermen".
I don't want to be famous!
Maybe it's my hippie upbringing, but god damn it I like being a drifter!
Sorry I shouted. This whole thing is kind of personal to me.
Anyway, when I was in training, I flat out denied these abilities. Not to fault any of the class three's who tried to train me, but privacy is something I value.
My primary teacher was green thing, whose real name I couldn't pronounce with vocal chords so I continued to call him green thing.
Mats was already out in the field and was sending glowing reports when the sky blew away.
Green thing was busy trying to convince me I could do all these absurd things I knew I could do but was denying. It was a mind reading session, in fact.
"Mind reading," green thing said, "is a process you learn gradually. You must understand the pathways which determine reasoning in any given species. Then you must be able to read appropriate chemical reactions and interpret them.
Yawn. Mr. Centipede, how do you keep track o' all them legs?
"I was never good at chemistry, green thing," I responded.
"It becomes second nature," green thing responded. "The hard part is working with a new species for the first time. There are so few Terrans here, for example, that even I am learning as I go."
This, of course, was an incredible stroke of luck for me. Green thing didn't know how to read that I was hiding my ability.
"How long does it take to learn?" I asked.
"It varies," green thing said. "You're the first Terran to come along who is my class or higher, so you're the Guinea Pig."
I remember laughing at that. "Green thing, you've been hanging around me to along. You're picking up Terran slang."
"Between you and your wife," green thing responded, "I should soon be fluent in your language. You know, your wife is quite remarkable in her studies."
This had been the first compliment Debbie had received since our arrival. It surprised me somewhat, so I pursued it.
"When people will speak to her," I responded, "they will see her as I do. Everyone seems so scared of her!"
"A lot of superstition," green thing said. "Your wife is the only non-classer within The Foundation's walls. A lot of people hold her is awe."
I just shook my head. "History is always happening," I said. "Never let it fool you into thinking it's already passed by."
"That is a worthy quote," green thing responded. "Who said that?"
"My father. A wise man, he was."
"Strong sense of family on your planet. Are you and your wife planning any offspring?"
I laughed. "No, not yet. We're still learning each other, let alone a child."
"Good," green thing said.
What the hell? Before I could ask, green thing went back to the lesson.
To this very day I wish I had pursued it.
We just played the tape back and found all kinds of holes in the story. That's okay. I do think you've got the mood we were in, and that's just as important as the facts. We were suspicious of our station, and of all this crap. We've debated it a while, and decided to keep the tape as is, and move on.
Of course I always discussed my lessons with Debbie. She would always listen intently, trying to see things I didn't or couldn't. She especially wanted to know what others thought of her, and what the plan for her was.
"Green thing's impressed with your diligence at the library," I told her in our quarters.
Debbie had smiled. "Yeah," she said, "If I didn't do it I'd be bored silly. I've even got hard copy of every file I've pulled."
I was surprised. "Hard copy?" I asked. "Of every file? It must be a mound a paper chin high."
"Higher. My brother always told me to get everything in writing."
"Brother?" I asked. The surprises never stop. "You have a brother?" In the two plus months since we declared ourselves wed she had never mentioned family.
"Yes," Debbie answered, "I have a brother. Sharp as a scythe and about as subtle. You almost met him when we first met."
I thought about it. "That older guy," I said. "He's your brother?"
Debbie laughed. "Your hippie upbringing is showing. He's not that much older than you. He's only 31."
Boy, did I misremember that.
"Any other family I don't know about?" I asked.
"Not until our own children come along," Debbie replied.
Gag. Cough. Sputter sputter. Do I sound like I was ready to be a father?
"Uh, Debbie, I've been meaning to talk to you about that. Do you think we should even think about kids right now? I mean, our lives have been pretty much uprooted by all this. Would you want to thrust a kid into all this?"
Debbie considered for a moment. "No, not really. I'd like children, but perhaps now is not the time. But what do we do, short of abstinence? I'm not on the pill, and we can't exactly go to the corner drug store for condoms."
I smiled and said. "Very true. They must have doctors here. Perhaps they could help."
Debbie nodded. "Fair enough. Let's talk to green thing."
Hello. Mats here.
Rock and roll is popular among us explorer types, and I'll admit to being responsible. I'm not the first to bring rock into space, but I'm certainly the most active promoter.
I've passed Grateful Dead music to every pilot I've run across. I've made a lot of buddies that way, and it's set up quite a network for information.
Deadheads in space!
At any rate, in exchange for one of my bootleg tapes from a New Year's show, one of my buddies, who for the sake of this narration I will call Duncan Idaho, with apologies to the estate of Frank Herbert, that I got a few answers to the Debbie dilemma. And the answers bothered the shit out of me.
Explained a lot though.
Duncan, you see, had met a class nine a few years earlier, and they had rapped a while. Apparently, class nines scare the shit out of The Foundation, but they're too useful to let go.
There's also this hooky comic book legend that The Foundation truly believes.
I had to get back to base.
The next time I ('drink) saw Mats he did not look to be in a good mood.
"How ya doin' Mats?" I asked.
"A bit frazzled actually," Mats replied. "Where's Debbie?"
"Doctor's appointment," I said.
Mats looked around. "Is this room safe?"
"Yes."
"Good. We got a problem."
"Talk to me," I said.
"You notice how everybody treats you and Debbie with kid gloves? I thought so. Notice how it's green thing teaching you, not another class nine? You class nines scare the shit out of The Foundation. If you were a megalomaniac you'd be very dangerous. But something scares them more. A class nine with kids."
"Excuse me?" was all I could say.
"Apparently there's some piss-ant legend that the first born child of a class nine will topple The Foundation. What's worse is that The Foundation believes it."
I sat down, slightly numb. "You mean to say that I'm the fucking kwasitz haderach?"
"You're remembering the book wrong," Mats told me. "Your kid, however, would be."
"What do we do?" I asked.
"When Debbie gets back, I get you two the hell out of here. Maybe back to Earth. Whether this real or not, you two are in serious danger."
I put two and two together at that point, and stood in shock. "Mats," I said, "Debbie's seeing the doc to find out about birth control. They're going to fucking sterilize her!"
Mats began to reflect my shocked look. "Holy shit, I think you're right."
"We go to get her," I said.
"We need more than that," Mats replied. "We need a plan."
Definition: Civil code RT 21-31.
Returning to one's homeworld after induction without authorization is punishable by revocation of library privileges for one standard year.
Definition: Civil Code TG 21-68.
The penalty for theft shall be defined as one year of incarceration at the site of the judicial council's choosing.
Definition: Civil Code TG 21-73.
The penalty for theft by means of stealth shall be defined as one year of solitary incarceration at the site of the judicial council's choosing.
Mats and I ('drink) crawled along in the darkness, not speaking. We moved quickly and quietly, the plan having been worked out before we even crawled into the ventilation system.
We were relying on my abilities to lead us to Debbie. I thought to try to send a telepathic message to her, but that was something I had rarely done before. We had gone quite a distance by the vents by the time I had discovered that it had worked.
I stopped crawling and nodded to Mats, holding up two fingers, which he could barely see. It was a prearranged signal, and the one I had hoped to use. Not only did I know where she was, the exam had not begun. I smiled as we crawled on.
I'll admit, in spite of what I can do, I missed the right vent. Mats caught it though, and tugged at my foot.
Thanks Mats.
The vent was not the kind you could see through, so I checked out the room with my hearing and smell. It seemed like only Debbie was there, so I braced and pushed the vent into the room, sliding into the room and standing.
I had been right. Only Debbie was there.
I spun and tapped the vent twice, and I heard Mats take off. I smiled. This was part of the plan.
I signaled to Debbie and motioned her to follow me, and we re-entered the ventilation system.
Mats, of course, was long gone, to get his ship warmed up.
I brought the panel into the shaft with me, then placed my hands where the vent was previously and created a new one, which instantly fit in snug and secure. No one would be able to tell that the vent had been moved without ripping it out and finding the other vent inside.
We traced the route back to our rooms, but we didn't re-enter. Just past the proper vent was a blank Post-it note. Don't ask me where Mats got them, but they were our bread crumbs to Mats' ship.
We went along the ventilation system following the Post-it notes, picking them up as we went. The plan was to guide us to the vent closest to his ship which would have another Post-it note on it. He would meet us there.
The appropriate vent was hard to miss, as it was ajar. There was a tube running from it which I crawled into. It went about twenty feet and then opened into the interior of Mats' ship.
"Good job," I said.
Debbie followed me in. "I assume there's trouble," she said.
We quickly filled her in on the details.
"There's trouble," Debbie responded afterwards.
"Mats," I said, "explain the tunnel to me."
"I don't know a jock who doesn't do it," Mats replied. "Ship air gets recycled, and to be honest it gets stale. This breathes some life into it."
"Fine," I said. "Okay Mats, where are you sending us?"
"M212-61-34atg. One of my discoveries. You've got all your belongings on the ship, and a couple of month's worth of survival gear and food."
"Any indigenous life?" I asked.
"Some," Mats replied, "but it's the same as anything else; scared of fire."
"Good. What do we do?"
"Give me two minutes to get into the ventilation system, then go to the ship computer. Her name is Janis."
"As in Janis Joplin?" I asked.
"Janis for short," Mats said. "That nude picture she did for Rolling Stone is on the wall. Don't touch it."
"You've been home," I observed. "That's against the rules."
"So is this. Go to Janis and identify yourself. She's programmed to accept you and Debbie once you introduce yourselves. Once you do that, simply say 'hell in a bucket' and off you go.
"Now it will take two days to get there. The ship is programmed to land and return, and her files will be scrambled. I'll handle the rest.
"When the ship lands, you'll have two hours to unload and get clear, then the ship will take off. Got that?"
I nodded.
Mats headed for the shaft. "I'll see you in six weeks," he said. "Good luck you two, and may the force be with you." With that, Mats bugged out.
"That was abrupt," Debbie said.
"No time for anything else," I said.
Debbie had looked around while Mats briefed me. "You know," she said, "all of our stuff is here. Even my library files."
"Fabulous!" I replied. "We'll have some time coming; we can go over them."
"Or do something else," Debbie said coyly.
Coyly. Is that a word?
At any rate, I smiled and walked to the cockpit. "Janis," I said.
There was no response.
"Janis, my name is 'drink."
"Hello 'drink," Janis responded. God, what a voice.
"Janis, 'hell in a bucket', if you please."
I heard the engines warm up and Mats' prerecorded voice ask for clearance, then rejoined Debbie.
We took off without a hitch.
Hello. Mats here.
The brilliant thing about the plan is that it left me completely unimplicated. In fact, after waiting a reasonable amount of time I got to report the ship as stolen.
When she returned four days later, I went aboard and reported everything fine. After The Foundation people found nothing and left Janis and I went to work.
We had to find a better hideout than M212-61-34atg.
When I found Mats' Place I was ecstatic. A secret place for Deb and 'drink to hideaway? Great! Then Janis pointed out to me that I was expected to find something on this run.
Well, it had been a nice twenty seconds.
Those three weeks were a time of discovery for Debbie and I ('drink).
We got settled in rather quickly as my experience from my mountain man days kicked in. We set up a tent with some bedrolls. We arrived at night so I set up a fire, but it also rained, so the fire didn't last. The rain wasn't pure water though; made our skins itch.
At least Mats' little beasties never showed up.
It was a fun time, I must say. Debbie and I finally got some time to ourselves. How many people get to spend their honeymoon on an uninhabited planet?
Uninhibited planet?
Sorry, but I think we're getting a bit punchy. We've been at this a while. Still, I'd like to get this done tonight.
Anyway, it was a fantasy time for us. We would talk about ourselves and where we would be without The Foundation.
Debbie, it seems, was a drifter, but not like Mats or myself. Her brother (whose name I knew to be Paul) was very wealthy, and Debbie traveled around the country on that money, basically soaking in the culture. I pointed out that she would have been better a Parisian, but Debbie just made a face when I said that.
She hadn't any set plans when she met me. In fact, she was at that tavern to meet with her brother and then go to his home in Malibu. After meeting me, her brother had gone home and Debbie stayed behind, hoping to find me.
She did.
As for me, well in case you hadn't caught it, Mats and I were setting to retire. I don't know about my buddy but I was planning on studying the ocean. Had I gone to school, I think I would have been an Oceanographer. I hope someday I still will.
I mean, have you ever just watched the waves come in? Have you ever gone diving, just to look at the life down there? Have you ever wondered what lives at the bottom of the Marianis Trench?
Have you ever been mellow?
Sorry. I said I was punchy.
Debbie and I survived well enough. The fish on the planet were edible enough although a bit salty, but the rain didn't allow for much fishing as it picked up. Fortunately we had a good solid tent, and a generator with a heater. The rain never got heavy enough to cause flooding, but the itching was a major annoyance.
My beard grew back in, which Debbie said was an improvement as long as I kept it groomed. Debbie proved herself to be a better cook than I, which is saying a lot, and I discovered the ticklish spot behind her left ear.
This was a kind of life I could get used to.
Of course, two surprises fucked that up. One; by this
point Debbie was already pregnant. Two; Mats' sudden arrival at the start
of week four.