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Chapter 5 — On My Honor
On my honor I will do my best
To do my duty to God and my country
- and to obey the Scout Law;
- To help other people at all times;
- To keep myself physically strong,
- mentally awake, and morally straight.
- -The Scout Oath, Boy Scouts of America
Pathros – Vandax City – Sigurd Crayn Academy
Friday, 15th Day of the 4th Cycle, 3579 A.D.
What’s taking him so long? Laura looked, impatiently, at the time display on her Tablet, for what was probably the fifth time. The young scholar had been waiting for quite some time already. The man she was to interview was supposed to have been there a good ten minutes earlier. The anticipation, magnified by her impatience, was eating at her sanity.
Laura Elaine Gunther was on a special assignment, which Dr. Gustwyn said was given by Lord Executive Balder Crayn, himself. The Lord Executive of House Crayn wanted her to do this assignment. Laura was thrilled.
From the day she had started at Sigurd Crayn Academy, the most prestigious school on Pathros, she had excelled at all her work. She was the top of her class, the best there was, and, finally, people were recognizing that.
No, they had recognized it before, but her field of study had been mostly ignored by the noble class of House Crayn. That seemed unusual, to Laura, as her field of study was very relevant to their environment. Laura studied what was only found on Pathros: dragons. The creatures fascinated her. Nowhere else in the known galaxy was there anything like them. They were a Domain entirely separate from the rest. There were no other creatures in the galaxy that could process aiexyn gas like they did, or even that could live in it. Laura loved the dragons, so much that she put her parents over their heads in debt to send her to Pathros, to a very expensive school, to study them.
And yet, until now, House Crayn hadn’t cared about her field of study. Certainly, House Crayn was very interested in things that were a natural part of Pathros, but not the dragons. They cared about aiex. Why? Because aiex meant money. What did dragons mean? Trouble. Aside from those ridden by the Dragoons, dragons only proved to be a hassle. Laura wouldn’t have been surprised if House Crayn would have the dragons exterminated if the Environmental Faction wouldn’t get in the way.
After the events of two days past, though, it looked like the dragons were trying to wipe House Crayn out first.
Now, that wasn’t really the case, Laura was certain, but what was it? It remained a mystery to her, still, the dragon’s behavior when they attacked Harvesting Facility J-7. It remained a mystery to everyone. The dragons of Pathros had always been aggressive; they would attack someone with only the slightest provocation. That was normal, but to attack in unison, like that. So many different species of dragon, altogether in one massive assault on J-7. It didn’t make sense.
That’s what this interview was to clear up.
Olan Harvey was his name. He was the only one who was down on the surface during the attack that survived. Everyone else was killed in the rampage. Laura was eager to hear his story. She was told that Olan had been right there on the front lines. He saw the attack from the beginning. He had witnessed the carnage and, somehow, got out of there alive.
And, at last, he arrived.
Walking through the door to the nondescript interviewing room was balding man, probably in his early thirties. Laura noticed that he broke the current trends and wore only a half-beard, running along his jawbone and chin, but no hair on the upper lip. It looked ugly, in her opinion.
Laura stood up, out of her chair, and extended her arm for a formal handshake. The casually dressed man accepted the handshake, as Laura greeted him, “Good afternoon, I’m Laura Gunther. You must be Mr. Harvey?” Laura noticed from the look on his face, that Olan wasn’t too fond of the formality that accompanied ‘Mr.’.
“Yeah, Miss, Olan Harvey. You’re the one interviewing me?”
“I am. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I look forward to hearing your story, Mr. Harvey,” Laura didn’t try to catch herself. The man had not yet suggested that she call him just by his first name, so she would continue with the formalities. Motioning towards the table that sat in the center of the room, the young scholar suggested, “Would you like to take a seat?”
“Yeah, sure, miss. Thanks.”
As he sat down, Laura took her seat on the other end of the table. Picking up her Tablet and stylus, she prepared to begin the interview. Until the motion of the stylus interrupted it, colorful lines swirled across the surface of her Tablet. Sensing that it was being used again, the Tablet’s surface blanked out for only a millisecond, then returned to the program Laura had opened before. Before her was a list of the questions she had prepared for the interview, as well as space to write down Olan’s responses. A box at the bottom of the surface of her Tablet contained numbers indicating that it was now recording audio as well.
“Let’s begin,” she said, trying to sound professional. “Mr. Harvey, if you would, I’d like to hear a bit about your background before we proceed with the bulk of the interview.”
“Just Olan will do, Miss,” he finally declared. Laura expected it to come out, but wasn’t sure when. She would respond in a like manner.
“Very well, Olan; in that case, Laura will do for me.” She didn’t like the way he said ‘Miss’.
“Sounds good. So,” Olan stretched his arms back and rested his hands on the back of his head in a relaxed manner, “my background. . . my background. . .” He took a while to respond.
Maybe that wasn’t the best of questions to start with.
“Well, where do you start, when talking about the life of the amazing Olan Bartholomew Harvey?” he mused in arrogance.
“Perhaps you can start with your age, where you’re from, and other basic information,” was Laura’s answer to the mechanic.
“Well, okay, Miss – er, Laura – as I said, I’m Olan Harvey, age thirty-three. I was born and raised on Jersey III, my parents good Lutherans. My cousin, Jarom Harvey, and I came here to Pathros back in the first quarter of ‘67. Started out working for House Gunfrey, but when they went under, we transferred to House Giles, who had just opened up J-7. We worked there until this week.”
“Thank you, Olan. Now, will you relate to me your experience at the Harvesting Facility on Wednesday morning?”
“Of course, that’s what I’m here for. Well, it started when arrived at the Perimeter Gatehouse B to do a repair job,” began the the interviewee on an erroneous note.
“I thought the reports said you were at Perimeter Gatehouse C?”
“Hey, Miss, I’m trying to tell my story, here.”
“Laura,” the interviewer corrected sternly.
“Yeah, sorry. So, maybe I was at Gatehouse C, what’s it matter? The fact was, I was there. I saw the first one.” A smug smile spread across Olan’s face as he pointed out that fact. Laura a gave him a look that she hoped he would interpret correctly – a look that said, without question, get on with it. Olan obliged, continuing his tale, “So, yeah, I saw the first one that attacked the facility, and it was huge. I mean, I’ve seen a few dragons during my time here on Pathros, but, wooh! This one was huge! I don’t remember what it was called, but it could have swallowed me whole, I can assure you.”
“Olan, could you spare some details about how they attacked? Where they came from? Could you describe their behavior?”
“Alright. . .” and the sole survivor of the disaster at Harvesting Facility J-7 began to tell his story. He told Laura about the first dragon that attacked. He described the rage that it possessed when it attacked, and the amount of force it took to bring the beast down. Laura listened intently as Olan described the madness and chaos of the main attack. “I mean, I’ve seen how hostile a dragon can be, but this was something else. There was, such madness. Such rage,” Olan’s eyes were stricken with a thousand yard gaze, staring blankly ahead. Through his mind, he could only have been playing back the memories of that horrific morning.
What did you see? mused Laura. What have you seen in the dragons that your words cannot describe?
“. . . just so. . . so. . . mad.”
Madness was all Olan could think of to describe the dragons’ behavior. Madness.
Laura talked to the man for several minutes longer, but got little more out of them. The dragons had gone crazy. That was it.
After asking him a few more questions, Laura dismissed Olan, thanking him for his time and the information he gave her. When he had left, she sat back down in her chair and began to think.
What could this mean? Why would the dragons behave this way?
She pondered these questions for a while longer, and found herself asking many more. She had never heard of dragons behaving in such a wild manner. Like Olan had said, dragons are always hostile, but for them to make such a frenzied attack. . .
There were so many things that didn’t make sense. As far as all of Laura’s studies had shown, dragons had a natural instinct to survive. What creature didn’t? A part of that instinct was to stay in an environment that was safe. A dragon needs to be around the right kind of aiexyn gases. If not, it won’t be able to tap into its natural powers. If out of its natural environment for too long, a dragon begins to lose its strength, and eventually can die. At Harvesting Facility J-7, it was not a blend of aiexyn. It was pure fuchsia. None of the dragons that Olan had described relied on fuchsia. The dragons willfully left a safe environment for one that would not support their life for extended periods of time. Why?
Another thing that worried Laura, although she wasn’t too concerned by it, is the fact that Olan had claimed that he had seen how hostile a dragon can be. When? Sure, the man had been living on Pathros for over ten years, but, aside from this experience, the perimeter defenses of a Harvesting Facility keep any dragons out. Pathros wasn’t a tourist world, either. People didn’t just go out into the murk to look at dragons. There were many people that had lived on Pathros for their whole lives, and never had seen a dragon out in the wild, let alone see how hostile they could be.
Then again, perhaps Olan had been in a shuttle that had been attacked. Perhaps Olan had been stupid enough to go out into the murk. There were numerous possibilities, so Laura didn’t worry about it any further. Her concern was the dragons. She needed to listen to the interview again. She needed to do more research. She needed to find out what was in that tunnel that had been uncovered.
Laura was going to get to the bottom of this, in one way or another.
* * *
Pathros – Vandax City – Corman Street
Friday, 15th Day of the 4th Cycle, 3579 A.D.
Olan gazed upward as he walked alongside the busy street. Far above him, he could see the glimmering of a few stars in the night sky. They were dimmed by the city lights, but it was more than he would be able to see from the Harvesting Facility he had worked at. It was only in these cities, raised up above the murk, that one could see the night sky. Where Olan had grown up, on Jersey III, the sky was always alight with stars. Thousands upon thousands of the glistening gems filled the sky. Olan missed them.
Flashing over the entrance to a small restaurant was a sign that read, “Mazlowe’s Grill”. Olan had always loved the food at Mazlowe’s. They served the best Hamburgers in Vandax City, and probably all of Pathros. Olan used to eat at the small restaurant everyday, until the doctor suggested otherwise. Today, though, Olan didn’t feel like heeding his doctor’s advice. He wanted a burger.
“Hey, Harvey, good to see ya!” was the greeting Olan received from the tall and frighteningly skinny man that stood behind the bar.
“Hey. Good to see you, too, bucko. How’s business?”
“As always, its great. You getting some grub today?”
“Sure, thing,” answered Olan, “I’d like a Hamburger.”
“Okay, one Hamburger… Anything to drink?”
“Water.” Getting the water instead of a soda or liquor was Olan’s way of rationalizing his neglect of the doctor’s orders.
“Okay, that’ll be 18 Reds. You want that on your tab?”
“Yeah, just put it on my tab.”
“Okay, can do.” The man leaned forward, glancing around cautiously. His tone became hushed, “Will you be eating that out here, or in back?”
“In back. Rover’s booth.”
“I’ll let him know. You can go on back and we’ll get that Hamburger to you when it’s ready.”
“Thanks.”
Olan walked to the left of the bar, and through an unmarked door. It led him to a short hallway, at the end of which was a door that was marked, ‘Employees only’. As Olan knocked on it, a gruff voice on the other side asked, “What do you need?”
“To do a good turn,” answered Olan, using the phrase that would get him access to this restricted area. There was a clicking as the door unlocked, and was opened by a rather large man.
“Hey, Mick.”
“Come on in, Harvey. Rover’s been notified already, and he’s on his way to his booth.”
“Thanks, bucko.”
As Olan strode into the room, was greeted by a number of his good friends and associates. His fellow Boy Scouts. Quite a few of them were there at the time. The entire Wolf Patrol was there, having a meeting in Larry’s booth. Gus was there, probably to check on the latest shipment that the Quartermaster had received. Olan didn’t see anyone from the Falcon Patrol, though.
The Boy Scouts, as far as Olan knew, were an ancient organization. They were organized somewhere around the 19th or 20th Centuries. Olan wasn’t clear on what the purpose of the organization was back then, something to do with helping teach young boys good things, but he did know that it had fallen apart during the Tragedy of Earth. Around the 30th Century it was reorganized. This time, though, it was a bit different.
Olan took a seat in Rover’s booth, noting how good it felt to sit down. It had been quite a long walk from the Academy to Mazlowe’s. It was only a minute before Rover arrived. The brown haired man, of average build, took a seat across from Olan in the booth.
“Olan Harvey, good to see ya.”
“Hey, cap.”
“How are things going?” asked Rover.
“They’re alright.”
“Come on, I need more of an answer than that. You’ve had a lot of stuff happen this week. How are ya takin’ it?”
“Uh, well, where do you want me to start?”
Feels like I’m back in an interview.
“Ah, I don’t know. How did the interview go?”
“Good,” was Olan’s short answer. They didn’t find out about my connection with you, if that’s what you’re wondering.
“Okay, okay… what did she ask about?”
“Just about my experience at J-7.”
“And what did you tell her?”
“I dunno; that it was horrific.”
“Horrific? Hot dog, Harvey, that’s a strong word.”
“Yeah, and that’s what it was. I’ve never been so close to dumping in a murksuit in my life!”
Rover burst into laughter at the comment, and Olan managed to chuckle. Their laughter was interrupted by an overweight server bearing Olan’s cherished hamburger.
“Your burger, Olan.”
“Hey, thanks Regis!” Olan happily accepted the bowl of imitation beef, cheese, and fresh corn. “Y’know, Cap, I just love hamburgers. They’re the best.”
“Sure are,” agreed Rover.
As Olan jabbed at it with his fork, then took his first bite, Rover commented, “You know, I’ve got a cousin, lives out on one of the moons of Merykstad, says they’ve got a diner there that serves ancient cuisine. Says the hamburgers there, patterned after a 20th century recipe, aren’t eaten with a fork.”
Olan’s cocked up one eyebrow in skepticism. “Oh yeah? Whaddathey eat ‘em with, then?”
“Apparently, they’re served between two slabs of bread.”
“That’s weird. I think I’ll just stick to Hamburgers the real way, in a bowl.”
Rover was quiet for a minute, allowing Olan to enjoy his heart-attack in a bowl (not that heart-attacks were much of a problem anymore), taking sips from a drink he had ordered for himself. After short while, Rover asked, “Okay, so what did you come here for today?”
“Well, its about my job at J-7. . .”
“Yeah? Lemme guess, you’re out of work because crazed dragons ransacked the facility?”
“You nailed it!” stated Olan in a congratulatory tone.
“So, what? You want us to pull some strings to land you another job?”
“Actually,” started Olan, “I’ve got plenty of work I can be doing. I was just a mechanic, Rover. As soon as the facility is deemed safe again, they could put me to work repairing things for the next ten years.”
“Okay, so what’s the problem?”
“Well, it’s not much of a problem, really. I’m more here to bear some good news.”
“Go on,” suggested Rover.
“I actually don’t have to work for a while. They’re giving me six months off, paid.”
“Really? Six months?”
“You heard me. They claim its because of the trauma I must have experienced, or something like that.”
“You weren’t traumatized? I thought you described it as horrific.”
“Yeah, I said it was horrific. Not traumatizing, but horrific.” Olan paused for a moment, reflecting on the event. “I dunno, maybe I shoulda been traumatized, but, well, I wasn’t.”
“And losing your cousin just the day before didn’t add to it?”
“Nah, I guess not. I’m not easily upset, cap. I tend to take things in stride, I guess.”
“Okay, I’ll let you leave it at that. So., you’re not working for six months? That’s great!”
“Of course it is. That means I’ll be doing more work for you.”
“Good deal.”
“That’s what I came here to say. I just wanted to let you know that for the next six months, I’m open for whatever jobs you feel like giving me.”
“Good to hear, Harvey, good to hear. I’ll let the Senior Patrol Leader know. I can assure you, we’ll be giving you a call.”
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