[TCD]: The Pounds of Flesh - 5
[TCD]: The Pounds of Flesh - 5
The Last Letter
To the tune of radio chatter and several bells worth of warning, the East Arsia decon chamber opened its doors, a rush of wind kicking up swirling motes of red sand that calmed as the doors closed and the chamber repressurized.
In the settling sand, a harrier, rig, and dragon became visible.
Koval had only been a messenger for about two years now, but that was more than enough time to become familiar with the different classes of harriers that came in and out of the decon chambers each day. The dragon was sleek and white-scaled, with nostrils still flaring from the long run. The rig was smaller and thinner than traditional lochsleds, stripped of everything nonessential in the ever-evolving pursuit for less weight and more speed.
The real tells were from the harrier himself though, his suit dyed an egregious shade of bright orange and turquoise and head still bobbing along to a song the world couldn’t hear. Data-class had a fierce affinity for their music like that — usually pop or synth.
As the decon chamber finished pressurizing, a green light flicked on and the interior doors opened, the dragon pulling them the final few feet into the East Arsia biodome.
Koval pushed himself up, whistling at his dragon, Tokko, to follow.
Behind the data-class, the doors shut and Arsian lockdown procedures began. “Looks like you’re the last one of the season,” Koval called out, approaching the sled.
The harrier took notice of him, looking him up and down. This close, even Koval could hear the music blasting within his tinted helmet. Seeming to understand who was talking to him, the man pointed a finger gun at the messenger before popping a small compartment in his sled and transferring the contents to Koval.
On most days, this was a handful or even a bag full of USBs. Today, though, Koval was handed only two items: a USB marked with a government seal, and a paper letter.
The first was fairly standard. Unlike Earth, Mars had no global internet. Information, news, and cat videos moved at the speed of data-class harriers and USBs just like this one that were passed from harrier to harrier and town to town.
The second was more interesting. He read the name and address, making a mental note of it.
Tokko had followed as requested, allowing Koval to slip the singular letter into his saddlebags as the two dragons sniffed curiously at each other. Tokko was smaller and stockier than the data-class hauler, not exactly designed for the speeds she was accustomed to. He wondered if Tokko understood the vast distances data-class like these two covered.
The harrier unclipped his helmet with both hands, allowing the booming baseline and soaring synth solo to flood the surrounding area unmitigated from the deceptively small speaker hung around his neck. He reached into a pocket, popped a stick of gum into his mouth, and with nothing more than a two fingered solute in Koval’s direction, took his leave with his dragon and sled.
Koval swung up into Tokko’s saddle, watching the lights on the interior of the decon chamber go dark as the doors locked into place. “That’s the last one on the schedule,” Tower East confirmed, her voice crackling over several of the radios of lingering workers in the area. “Beginning shutdown protocol for Arsia East. Tower North? You still expecting anyone?”
Koval doubted it. If nothing else, he doubted there’d be anyone he needed to be present for.
Storm season hadn’t set in yet — visibility wasn’t perfect, but there was still lots of sunlight beaming in and he estimated there would be for several hours if not more. Closing Arsia for storm season was a lengthy process, though. To have everything done in time, they had to start early. Sometimes data-class cut it closer than anyone would like, but for the most part the harriers seemed to account for getting in a while before the city actually sealed its entrances.
Over a loudspeaker, Tower East’s voice played again. “All civilians be advised, the East Arsia biodome is closing to the public in ten minutes! We ask that you vacate yourself and your belongings with due haste! I repeat, the East Arsia biodome is closing to all civilians in ten minutes! If you are a harrier or work for the city, please keep any relevant identification visible or readily available for inspection! Failure to provide identification is grounds for immediate removal to Interior Arsia!”
In the effort of avoiding the civilian traffic, Koval took his time getting over to Tower East and turning in the USB. He imagined the information would be available later tonight, depending on how busy city-closing preparations got.
By the time he made it to the eastern tunnel into Arsia proper, it had been roughly fifteen minutes since the civilian clear-out was announced, leaving only harriers, some dock workers, and several guards milling about.
He presented his ID at the checkpoint and was allowed through the large metal doors and into Arsia proper.
Arsia, unlike its sister cities Pavonis and Ascraeus, had a very small, scattered footprint above ground. It had four biodomes - North, South, East, and West, that took in harriers from each direction. They housed dragons and hovercraft easily, and each sported well-maintained areas of grass and trees that were open to the public as parks.
During storm season, though, it was important to save every drop of power they could. Harriers would move their dragons and sleds to barns and docks further in the city, and the metal doors leading into the mountain would close and seal, allowing the biodomes to power off until the planetary dust storm abated.
The vast majority of the city was here, underground — built into the volcanic tunnels that ran throughout the dormant volcano Arsia had been named for. Most were surprisingly tall and wide, giving more than enough space for him to comfortably sit on Tokko’s back as they moved along. People gave the two a small berth, moving out of the way so he could get through.
He made good time into the market district, which was packed at this hour with people stocking up for the storm.
As he passed a busy storefront, a little girl’s muffled voice called out at him. “Koval!”
He recognized Solis Penske waving at him from the window of her family’s bakery. She vanished momentarily before pushing her way past patrons and out the door, rushing up to him and Tokko. Tokko recognized her immediately, craning his neck down to nose at her hands for any potential treats but settling for the pets he received instead.
“Anything from my mom?” She asked, bouncing on her toes, and he reluctantly shook his head.
“Sorry, Solis. You’ll have to check again after the storm.”
“…Darn.” She frowned, but her older brother’s voice called from within the bakery, and she patted Tokko twice on the head before rushing back up to the top step. She turned, calling, “You’ll deliver my letter first when it comes, right?”
He crossed his heart. “As promised!”
This at least reinvigorated her smile, and she vanished inside.
Solis’ mother was a ranger. The two traded messages the way most people did these days — by USB. A new message could be uploaded to the USB from any computer, and the encryption key messengers used was universal. Any city-sanctioned messenger could encrypt the information, send it off with a data-class, and be reasonably certain that whatever messenger got it on the other side could decrypt it with their key once it reached the intended recipient.
Theirs was bubblegum pink with butterflies on it, and he hadn’t seen it in a while. She usually sent once every month. It had been at least two since he’d seen that particular stick.
The marketplace gave way to the densely packed nexus hub, intermittent sunlight still pouring in from glass-sealed holes in the ceiling of the volcanic tubes. He turned left down one of the offshooting tunnels and followed it. The two of them entered a long corridor of opaque, dew-speckled tarps, catching a few glimpses of the extensive hydroponics farms within.
This place was much less packed, though there were still many workers going to and fro between the tents as they tended to the crops and set out preparations for preserving as much of the harvest as possible. There was no telling how much they would need. How long the storm would last.
He heard his name again then, a man in his forties brushing aside one of the tarps to approach him. “Koval! Anything for me?”
He sighed. “No, Mr. Vasquez.”
“Nothing? You’re sure?”
“I’m sure, Mr. Vasquez.”
“Have you checked all the letters?”
“Yes, Mr. Vasquez.”
“Thoroughly?”
“There was only one, so yes.”
“And it wasn’t for me?”
That’s the implication, yeah, Koval thought to himself, but he put on a polite smile. “It wasn’t, Mr. Vasquez. I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until after the storm passes.”
Mr. Vasquez’s hands went up in frustration, shaking his head. “You do realize how long I’ve been waiting to hear back from her, right? You’re SURE nothing has come in?”
Mr. Vasquez’s daughter had stolen away on a freighter to North Marden months ago to elope with her fiancé. He’d sent several messages to them already, each of which was handed over to Koval with a few choice words about the gall of a good Martian woman like his daughter marrying an offworlder.
The only message that had ever been sent to Mr. Vasquez was a letter — a written one — formally banning him from the wedding. Koval could tell, because the envelope was covered in some choice words itself.
He doubted anything more was coming in. He also doubted this would be the last time he was asked about it.
“Check again after the storm, Mr. Vasquez!” He called over his shoulder as he urged Tokko through the hydroponics district.
Hydroponics eventually melded into the lower river districts, one of the denser housing regions in the city. The river was the city’s staple and lifeblood — and the entire reason any of this was here. It flowed through most of the first neighborhoods and districts, each building and room carved out of the side of the volcanic tubes.
Some portions of it fed the hydroponics and several small hydroelectric installations. Other portions were gathered in large water drums and sent off on freighters to the surrounding quadrangle. The river made its way out of the city and further eastward, weaving underground into places unknown. A few other settlements in the area were able to draw their water from it, but the vast majority got their water straight from the river’s source: Arsia.
The higher-class homes had some spacing along the widest bank of the river — room enough to lounge and have some privacy. The lower river districts were a bit more packed, doors every few feet leading into small multi-family homes along the narrower banks. Lights crisscrossed the tunnels, illuminating a variety of drying clothes, clusters of potted mushrooms, adults tending to work and chores, children playing with toys, and so on.
A cat-sized drake watched over a playing child from the windowsill of one of the houses, sharp ears taking note of Tokko and Koval. His head tracked them as they passed, while the child continued to play without a care.
Rounding the corner, Koval directed Tokko in a small arc towards the river, giving a berth to two guards and their “dogs”, one an earth-style canine and the other being similarly shaped but noticeably more draconic in nature.
As he neared his destination, he couldn’t help but wonder for the lonely letter in his bag, the last one to make it in before the storm.
Paper letters weren’t horribly uncommon. Synthetic paper was common enough and they traveled at the same pace as USBs, so many people had taken a liking to the romanticism and personalization of physically penning a letter. He wondered why the sender of this letter had preferred the paper format. Wondered who the recipient was to the man who penned it.
He slipped the letter out of the bag to confirm the address. The penmanship was clean and clear — pressed deeply into the envelope, as though its writer had gone over the address and names several times to make sure they were legible and wouldn’t be lost at any point in transport.
There was no other writing on the envelope. No indication of what it might hold. He recognized the street name but not the specific address. The sender’s name read “Garrett Emerson”. He didn’t recognize this either.
It was strange to think that for as many letters as he knew the context of, there were so many more that he didn’t. Stories that he’d never hear, even one-sided.
He was far from the only messenger in the city, and he had to wonder if one of them would have recognized what they were holding if they’d been the one to pick it up. If any of them would have known of some gravity or story to what he would be delivering today. He wondered how many letters he’d delivered never knowing they were the first of many, or even the last.
At last, he spotted the address. There was a woman out front, sleek black hair tied back with a bright red bandana and balancing a young boy on one hip as she scooted a toy lochsled off to one side with her foot to make room for a washbasin she was lugging out from the house.
The boy couldn’t be older than two, with fluffy black hair and wearing a green jumper. He was the first of the pair to notice Koval and Tokko’s arrival, simply pointing at Tokko.
She turned a moment later, pausing in her work to look Koval up and down. Recognizing his messenger bags, her brows rose. “Something for us?”
“You Halley Emerson?”
She nodded.
“Then yes ma’am.”
Halley switched the boy over to her other hip, approaching. “Didn’t realize Arsia was still getting mail.”
“Last one of the season, I think.”
“Lucky me, then.”
“Lucky you.”
She took the letter from him, squinting at the recipient information for a moment before turning back to the house and calling to someone inside in a dialect Koval didn’t understand.
Halley smiled politely at him. “Thank you. We were starting to get worried about him.”
Koval tipped an imaginary cap, and the woman took her leave. She stepped back, calling again to whoever was inside and vanishing a moment later into her house.
Koval turned Tokko around, beginning his rounds for any intra-Arsian mail that might need delivering. Still, his thoughts lingered on the pair. A mother and son being contacted by the father? A sister and a little brother? A grandmother inside? Maybe just a friend?
A letter full of details delivered to a house full of lives as intricate and complex as every other. Lives he’d never know.
A street full of houses. A biodome full of streets. A planet full of biodomes. And a messenger bag slung across Tokko’s back, empty.
…It had a way of making a person feel quite small in all of this.
“Koval!” A voice called. “Anything for me?”
Hello everyone and thank you for reading the fifth release in this anthology series based in the universe of The Cardinal Directive! Thank you all for your patience this lovely Monday.
The wider universe can be found [HERE] if you want to know the main storyline! Otherwise, check out the other installments of the anthology!
Story 1 - “Ole Girl”
Story 2 - “A City to Die For”
Story 3 - “A Dragon’s Choice”
Story 4 - “The Price of Research”
Remember to toss a like if you liked it, leave a comment, share, and subscribe if you want to see more!