Daved Breggs was arguing with a shopkeeper for the third time. It was dawning on him that breakfast might not happen. Even Al's Big Eggs had turned against him.
“Listen, you know me. I eat here every time I’m in town. It's not fair to deny me breakfast just because there is a war going on.”
Al shook her head. “Sorry son, there's nothing I can do. The Authorities are everywhere–if they see me serving someone without an ID, I'll be thrown in jail with the Hake scum that started this mess.”
“I'm a Sheek Wanderer. I don't have a hometown and I think the IDs are a bunch of nonsense. It's unethical to deny service to someone just because they grew up on the wrong side of the fence.”
“I don't make the laws, I just follow them. If you don't like the system, you should have voted for someone else.”
“They don't let us vote… we don't have a residence.”
“Well you could still get an ID if you're really a Sheek. Not my fault you've got something against civilization.”
“Come on, just a single egg? I'll give you twelve yar.”
“A ticket would be at least five hundred. But thank your lucky stars you have a flyr. Son, you get in that thing and find another city to haunt. There are plenty of provinces that aren't as strict as Selfar.”
“That's not my point–it’s not fair to treat someone differently just because they have the wrong ID. We're all Sheeple–”
“Is something the matter?” A tall Sheek officer with a gun slung over his shoulder and a silver badge stepped beside the two. He looked Daved over from top to bottom. “A Wanderer,” he said with disgust. “And no ID, I assume. I just kicked a slew of your buddies out of the Crazed and Dazed.” He handed Daved a piece of paper torn from a newspaper. “Here's the order, straight from the regional Council. You got a problem with it, take it to them. Otherwise, you need to leave Selfar immediately.”
Daved snatched the paper from the officer and looked it over. Near the middle, it read: Due to the huge influx of undocumented refugees from Talmyn, the Selfarian Council is cracking down on illegal migration. All tourism and travel services are to be shut down for one week while the region is purged of intruders. Any Hake without a valid residential ID must leave Selfar. Sheeks are permitted in the region only if they have a valid ID issued by the Sheek Authority. No foreign Hake or undocumented traveler is permitted to engage in any financial transaction in the region of Selfar. Any Sheeple caught assisting one of these will be prosecuted.
“Do you have a flyr, or do I need to escort you out of the city myself?”
“I've got a flyr,” mumbled Daved. The officer trailed him as he made his way to the parking lot below Zalfor Boulevard. As he climbed into his flyr, he noticed an ad below the public announcement he'd just read. It said: Tired of a boring life pushing paper or punching buttons? Ready to venture to the unknown in the name of science and discovery? Filstar Laboratories is accepting candidates for an exciting new experiment. Subjects will be inducted into the Scientific Hall of Fame and receive a thousand yar stipend upon completion of the experiment. All applicants welcome, Hake or Sheek. Call 14-242-STAR for more information. Tiny print near the bottom of the ad bore a disturbing disclaimer: The applicant may choose a beneficiary to receive the reward in case of death during the experiment.
Daved's flyr lifted into the air and he sped out of the tunnel. He coasted over the shantytowns of Western Selfar and then set the autopilot for a northwestern route. Picking up his phone, he began to dial: 1, 4. 2, 4, 2. S, T, A, R.
“Yes, is this Filstar Laboratories? Ah, wonderful. My name is Daved Breggs, and I am inquiring about a notice I saw in the Selfarian Sun…”
* * * * * * * *
The Regions of Shamonj, 476 A.D.
Kroga
Predominantly Sheek. The primary occupations are farming and fishing. The largest city is Kroga, a port city on the Blue Sea.
Sheeks' Land
Populated entirely by Sheeks except for prisoners. Heavily industrialized and polluted, especially near the major cities Seoltin and Port of Helskay. Home to the Sheek Authority in Seoltin and Filstar Labs in the southern Mintorn Mountains.
Yar
Sparsely populated with farmland in the south and dense forests in the north. The largest city is Brindad, primarily Sheek.
Ranj
Central region home to both Hakes and Sheeks. Egg Harbor, at the mouth of the Jerol River, is the largest city.
Farwest
So named because the Sheek maps (centered on Seoltin), place this land in the extreme west. It is lightly populated, almost entirely by Sheeks. The largest city, Eelvym, is a mere village.
Kudskar
Medium populated region with a mixture of deep swamps and thick forests. The largest cities are Maowkie and Corum, both predominantly Sheek. Most Hakes either live in the extreme north, or have moved to the Hakes' Area.
Talgar
Heavily populated region split by the River Swift. Urban areas such as Talymn are becoming increasingly Sheek, while the rural areas still hold a mix of Sheek and Hake.
Selfar
Due to its proximity to the Hakes' Area, this region contains more Hakes than Sheeks, though it is controlled by the Sheek Authority. It is home to the City of Selfar, rich in wealth, and the Site of the Seven Scrolls, rich in history.
Champazia
Sparsely populated region generally unaffected by the War.
Hakes' Area
Exclusively occupied by Hakes and free from the Sheek Authority. The largest city is Kaspari, a center of mining and manufacturing, as well as the capital of the Hake Authority.
The Zone
Sometimes referred to as Old Dorthar, The Zone is a sparsely populated wasteland, the site of countless battles between Hakes and Sheeks. The region was recently under Hake control until 476 A.D., when it was taken back by the Sheeks after a successful invasion.
Welcome to Selfar, read a cheerfully painted sign mounted above the road. A perfect place to call home.
“Right,” muttered Hans. “If you were born here.”
He slowed the vehicraft to a crawl as he looked out into the prairie. “Enjoy the view,” he announced to V'han. “The beautiful land 'o Selfar, though I don't see what all the fuss is about. Home of Selfarian Marble, the Seven Scrolls, and a million miles of Flowering Shortgrass. Today we'll drive through the City of Selfar. Then there'll be several lonely days circling the Tablelands. After that, we cross the River Yellow, swing beneath the Mountains of Sorrow and reach The Hakes' Area.” His forehead furrowed as he looked ahead. “Great; the traffic’s stopped.” The vehicraft slowed to a halt behind a line of others. Hans could not see how far the line went, disappearing over a hill covered in small white flowers.
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“Look! Straw man is lie dead in grass!” said V’han.
“It's just a scarecrow,” chided Hans. “But wait until you see the City of Selfar; that's where all the crazy fashion is. I'm sure there's someone in the casinos there dressed just like this–”
“It is rise.”
Hans stared in amazement as the “straw man” stood, looked around, and meandered towards the highway. He paid no attention to the line of stopped vehicrafts, crossing the road in front of Hans' own. A red symbol hung crookedly from his straw shirt, and Hans, recognizing a fellow Hake, called out to him: “Excuse me, do you know why we are stopped?”
The Sheepel gave Hans a wary look, then ambled over, leaning on the dust covered vehic. He spoke with a light-hearted voice and a twinkle in his eye. “So, making yer way to the Hakes' Area, eh?”
“We are; or were, prior to this traffic jam.”
“Well, get outta yer vehic then. Hope you brought better shoes than me,” (he pointed to a lump of straw tied around his feet) “cause it's a long way on foot.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
“The Sheek Authority is at the other end of this line. They're checking every vehicraft entering the City of Selfar. If you're a Hake, they take it. No exceptions.”
“They can't do that! Who do they think they are? And in Selfar? There's more Hakes here than Sheeks!”
“Hey, yer lucky they're just taking the vehics. It could be worse.”
“Was your craft taken?”
“You kiddin’? I pushed it into the sea. It’s just a material possession. Knew someone would take it sooner or later, anyway. I’m practicing Disillusionment from the War, you see. I’ve rid my life of illusions so I can focus on reality.”
“I see,” said Hans. He didn't, really.
“My name's Nyck, by the way. Nyck Seekall.”
“Er, I'm Hans. And this is my V'hogel, V'han.”
Nyck seemed to see the V'hogel for the first time. “Well I’ll be. I can't say I've met one before. Amazing!” He looked around nervously, and leaned towards Hans, lowering his voice. “The Authorities are rounding them up as well. A V’hogel is no more of a citizen of Selfar than you. You two are not safe in this line of vehics. I think you should join my quest.”
“To become disillusioned? I doubt it. How ‘bout you, V’han? Nope. V’han says no, too.”
V’han blinked eerily. “Tell V’han more.”
Nyck Seekall smiled at the thin reptile. “Well, it’s like this. I once heard someone say, 'There’s a reason for everything'. A platitude, yes, but certainly true, for who would deny that every consequence must have a perfectly logical origin?”
“No one,” said Hans uneasily, noticing a pair of Authorities slowly making their way to his vehicraft.
“My thoughts exactly! Yet in every subject, there are more questions than answers. So much of our world runs on such little knowledge. I do not refer to such trite things as Why is the sky orange? or How is a flyr propelled? Those we know. No, I refer to the greater questions: Why are we at war? Why are some of us Hake and some Sheek? Even your V’hogel is little understood: How do V’hogle know when momentous events are about to occur? How did the rabadons understand us, when we could not understand them?”
“Those are just philosophical questions,” stated Hans, annoyed. “They will never be answered.”
“I have scarcely passed the first Pillar! There's more, oh, so much more. Why did Satellite One report Condar as having mountains, yet when we view it with a telescope, we see only water? How do stars burn, and what causes their sudden appearance? Who wrote the Seven Scrolls, and how do they foretell so much? Why–why are we here? Certainly we understand much, yet for each question answered, ten more are found. It does not add up. If the universe is run by logic, then we are missing something, something important. I am confident there is a single, yet undiscovered, force that lies behind all these mysteries. I am in search of the answer to all that is unexplained.”
“What–are you gonna look for a God?”
“No, that would only bring more questions! If there is a God, why is there a God? How was it created? What is its purpose? Behind all these questions, there must be a logical answer… this answer is what I seek.”
Hans revved the engine of his vehic. “You’re crazy. Out of your mind. You’re suffering from more illusions than you say you lost. As for me, I'm turning around. If I can't drive through the City of Selfar, I'll go around.”
“As you wish. For my part, I am not crazy. There is a reason for everything; this I am certain. And I still urge you to leave your vehic and walk. The Authorities are stopping all traffic on every highway–it was announced in the paper this morning. You will not make it halfway back to Talmyn before you are parted from both your vehic and V'hogel, leaving you even further from the Hakes’ Area. And you know there is no other road that runs through the prairie. I am so sorry, friend.”
Hans studied the scarecrow and resigned himself to the inevitable. “Come on, V'han. We'll continue on foot. I'd rather not deal with the Authorities if I don't have to. The City of Selfar is not far away–there are plenty of Hakes there who'll help us out.”
“Are you sure you will not come with me? I just left the City of Selfar. It is no longer a pleasant tourist trap. The Sheeks are locking everything down. You need a residential permit to buy anything. I doubt you'll be able to get a meal, let alone a taxi. I lived there almost my entire life, and they're kicking me out just because I was away for the war when they assigned the IDs.”
“Are you actually going anywhere, or simply wandering around the prairie collecting straw?”
“I’m heading north. I heard the Hakes are gathering in the Burning Wilderness. I think something important is happening, and I want to be there to understand it.”
As far as Hans knew, there was nothing in the Burning Wilderness but sucazas and sand. “The Burning Wilderness is the last place on Shamonj I want to be right now. Have a fun trip. We'll go our own way.” He stepped out of the vehic–the line of traffic hadn’t budged an inch–and began assembling what possessions he and V'han could carry.
“Take care then. Maybe I’ll see you again. Perhaps by then, I will have made more progress on my theory.” With that, Nyck wandered away. A few minutes later, Hans and V'han were walking east. Behind them, a line of vehicrafts baked in the sun, some drivers honking angrily, others abandoning their transportation as it was confirmed over the radio that all Hake vehics were now the property of the Sheek Authority.
To:
Barth DeManth, Chief Detective of the Sheek War Agency
You are hereby ordered to triple your efforts in finding who destroyed the Sheek flagship, the Gaelen. We understand that you have narrowed your search to a Hake or Sheek who planted a bomb in the engine area. This is not sufficient information. You are ordered to put aside all other projects until the perpetrator of this incident is discovered. How and why this attack on the Sheek Authority was carried out must be discovered. Three trained soldiers and a private flyr have been assigned to assist you. The resources of Filstar Laboratories are also at your disposal, should you choose to use them.
- The Office of Emperor Gaelen of the Sheek Authority
Barth tacked the letter to his wall, took a sip of Yarwood Tea, and pulled a keypad closer to him. “I will research all night. And all tomorrow. And all next week. For as long as necessary until the Emperor’s request is satisfied.” He felt uncomfortable with the emperor of the Sheek Authority sending him messages. It meant he was in trouble… or would be soon if he couldn’t crack the case.
The phone rang. Barth ripped it off the hook. “Sheek War Agency, Detective Division.”
“Sir DeManth? We have finished our search of The Zone. Every last piece of the Gaelen has been found, but there was no sign of Quinn, or this, uh, green chair.”
Barth frowned. “Quinn escaped on foot, but the green chair… it was clearly visible in the satellite fotos. It must be there!”
“We believe a Nomad Salesman may have picked it up. They often scour The Zone for loot after a battle.”
The detective stared at the foto. “Has your team figured out where the chair came from?”
“We digitally analyzed the foto you sent. The chair is sitting on the wreckage but shows no damage, so it was left there after the battle had ended. But it was taken away before we got to the scene. We've looked into the travel records and war log, and it seems the chair could only have come from one of two sources.”
“Which are?”
“There were a few Nomad Salesmen in the area during and after the battle. It may have been dumped by one of them and picked up by another. Unfortunately, in all of the surveillance fotos, we have no evidence of this.”
“It is a very nice chair. Certainly a Nomad Salesman wouldn't leave it lying there.”
“There may have been an incident, or perhaps someone had to flee when the battle began overhead. In any case, we find the second possibility more likely.”
“What's that?”
“Quinn escaped his flyr in the midst of the battle using a parachute. If he was carrying the chair with him, he may have left it among the wreckage and then escaped, for the chair was there, but not Quinn.”
“Why would Quinn leave a chair in The Zone?”
“We don't know. But if it was the weapon used to destroy the Gaelen, or if it is holding information, it is possible he arranged to have a Nomad Salesman pick it up for him.”
“Why haven’t you tracked down the ones seen in the area? Or those who made recent sales in Gabez?”
“Sir, we’ve tried. Several of them passed through that day. We have their names, but it is difficult to locate them. They move as fast as the Wanderers.”
“And you’re sure the chair wasn’t dumped out of a Hake flyr? That seems more likely than being dropped off by Quinn or some Nomad.”
“No, the foto shows the chair in perfect condition. If it had fallen from a flyr it would have been damaged. It must have been set down intentionally, and given its proximity to the center of the battle (amongst the wreckage of the Gaelen itself), we suspect Quinn left it for a Nomad to pick up.”
“Or a Nomad left it there and Quinn took off with it.”
“Perhaps. As I said, we have only guesses.”
“This is ridiculous. Why would someone leave a chair in The Zone? What use could it be to anyone?” Barth was getting frustrated. “Why am I even worrying about this?”
“Because it is the only clue we have?”
“A most excellent point. Track down those salesmen! And send some spies into the Hakes' Area to look for Quinn. I'm sending you some soldiers to help with the search. That chair must be found!”
Barth hung up the phone and looked once more at the letter from Emperor Gaelen. The resources of Filstar Laboratories are at my disposal. Barth considered this. There’s a demo on Ninthday I was invited to attend. Maybe I’ll drop in and see how they run things.
A desert creature similar to a camel, but much more elusive.
