“We’re not ready for you yet,” Garrett said. “I’m also busy at the moment.”
Phillip said, “Strike while the iron is hot! Surely you can help us begin moving in.”
Meanwhile Garrett saw a trio of policemen on bicycles heading for the lawn. He took a step toward them, and Phillip and Duke turned to see the police coming their way.
“Who’s in charge here?” asked one of the police.
“We are,” said Duke, shaking a cop’s hand. “What seems to be the problem?”
“Trespassing and loitering.”
Duke smiled, arms spread. “This is a beautiful public area. Are we bothering anyone?”
The first cop looked to her colleagues, then said, “Sorry, but we still need you to disperse. You haven’t got a permit for a rally or… whatever it is you’re doing.”
Phillip added, “We’re hoping to leave promptly, since our ride is here.” He pointed at Garrett.
Oh, thanks. Now the cops were looking to him. Garrett said, “This is unexpected, but I’ll start taking them off the island right away.” Rather than leave it at that he turned to Phillip. “In the meantime, please get everyone to disperse. I’ll have to make several trips, and this is a good time to hang around and enjoy the island. Do some last minute shopping. In fact, why are they all standing here?”
Phillip looked puzzled. “Because I told them to.”
“So tell them not to. I’ll take a few people and their gear for each trip. Do you have phones or any way to coordinate, or is that against your religion?” Maybe they preferred telegraphs.
With a snort Phillip said, “We can be very organized when the need arises. Watch us!” He turned to his people and called, “Form up!” Everyone reacted, laying aside their gear to gather in front of the leaders. Garrett was impressed, but found it creepy that they would move in unison.
Phillip began giving instructions and Garrett asked the police, “Is this all right, officers?”
One cop said, “I think you have a long day ahead.”
The group split up somewhat, and Garrett excused himself to retrieve Eaton. As soon as he stepped into the bar, he heard someone call out, “Yo, Garrett!” It was Carlos Mar, the dive shop owner.
“Hey. Look, I’m really busy right now.”
“No problem, but I’ve got more divers for you. Same referral fee?” There’d been a group over the weekend.
“Hell. Okay, I’ll get them there somehow, but warn them it’s going to be weird.”
Garrett reached Eaton at last. “A puzzle. Say you need to take a fox, a chicken, and a pile of grain across a river with a boat that only holds one at a time. And you can’t leave the fox alone with the chicken, or the chicken alone with the grain. What do you do?”
“Get help,” said Eaton.
As it happened, Garrett’s first trip brought Duke, a nonplussed Eaton, and a few of the believers to Castor. Garrett tried to keep the mood light so that he could keep from telling himself that this new crew was a bad one. “What interested your group in coming all the way out here?”
“Destiny,” said Duke. He pointed dramatically ahead into the waves, where there was still nothing to see but afternoon sky. “Sir Phillip’s strength is his ability to prophecy, to sense the currents of God’s Plan, even if he needs help putting said Plan into motion.”
Garrett learned little from that. “Let me come at this another way. Why did you leave the mainland? How does this advance your, uh, doctrines?”
“You did hear the President’s speech after the hurricane, didn’t you?”
“Absolute rot,” muttered Eaton, probably referring to Duke as well as the speech.
Garrett said, “No.”
Eaton pulled a computer from his pocket and offered it to Garrett. Garrett read. My fellow Americans, my children… said the transcript. The President went on at length about the need to “save America from the demons of divisiveness” and “bring about unity under one people, one moral standard”.
Eaton said, “And one Leader, I’m sure.”
“What does this have to do with the hurricane?”
“It’s a breaking point. A chance to lead shocked, scared people into accepting some ‘reforms’ that’ve been waiting in the wings, on a lot of subjects. Freedom of speech, taxes, borders, the role of government in general.”
Garrett stared into the transcript again, unable to stomach the flowery language. It was like a machine of words, a bomb that he needed to dismantle but didn’t know how to. He lacked the tools to answer this politician’s calls for more power, more centralization. He dropped the computer, shaken.
A woman grabbed it in midair, rescuing it from the muck at the bottom of the boat. She had coffee-colored skin and long, dark hair hidden under a plain dress and grey headscarf. She struck Garrett as the sanest-looking of the bunch; why had she gone along with some weirdo neo-Confederate cult?
“Anyway,” said Duke, “That was our cue to leave.”
When the platform appeared on the horizon Garrett gunned the engine. His passengers leaned forward and stared.
“There’s going to be so much work,” one of them said. Garrett glanced back and saw it was that woman again. But she wasn’t complaining; she looked excited now.
The radio crackled. “Castor Station calling transport boat.”
“Hey, Tess. Are we cleared to dock? I’ve got passengers and cargo. Change of plans: the, uh, group is coming early.” He looked back at Duke and said, “What do we call you people?”
“Pilgrims,” said Duke, with a smile.
Author’s Note: This group’s theme isn’t meant to reference current events in any way. See the book’s end note for explanation.
6. Tess
“So you’re the soldier guy.” She stared up at Eaton, a jock who was looking the station over like he’d conquered it.
“Close enough.” Eaton shook her hand and she couldn’t help thinking, he’s a professional murderer. Even now he was probably mentally listing fifty ways he could kill her and escape.
She said, “You’re not with these religious people, are you?”
“Those idiots? No. I’m here to look around.”
Martin swooped into view. “Tess, I need you to supervise these… Pilgrims as they move in.”
Eaton said, “Hide the sharp objects.”
Tess sighed and descended into South Tower while Martin chatted up Eaton and that actor guy. She’d have to put away her little lab.
Since the hurricane, she’d buried herself in work. Blaming herself for not maintaining the float cylinders well enough, she’d tried everything she could to improve things with what parts were available. When she worked herself to exhaustion she heard from Zephyr, showing up like a geeky valkyrie to approve of her. “I can help,” he said. “Let me see what you’re seeing.” She let the AI access her i-glasses. He could practically look through her eyes and speak privately to her about her tasks. It was good to have Zephyr there to talk with. Garrett was spending the same nights staying up with his own work, and neither human was willing to intrude on the other. Mostly she and Zephyr talked about their work, about possibilities for building new things, but those were broad categories. She was learning a lot.
When she reached the clutter of equipment, the cultists were poking at it. “Hey!” she called out, loud in the bare concrete room. Four people in stupid fantasy outfits were disconnecting cables and sweeping tools into a box. “Don’t touch my stuff.”
A black woman said, “Oh, is this yours? Where should we put it?”
“Nowhere. I’ll take that.” She pried the box from a man in grey. “Look, how many of you people are coming? Geez. I’ll have to move everything. Aren’t you, like, afraid to touch technology?”