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"All Things Aside"
Rating: PG Return to Boyhood (3) Archer felt like he’d had his smile pasted on his lips for days instead of hours. The Hiroutan leader, Awtish Hariko, was proud of his people and it showed by the way he was painting a picture of prosperity and peace of his people. The Hiroutan’s were a strange humanoid race because they had technology that far exceeded humans, but they didn’t go out of their way to meet other races and they didn’t travel outside of their own solar system. ‘Why?’ was the only question Hariko kept dodging, but Archer was determined to get an answer, even if he didn’t feel particularly suspicious or uncomfortable around this race. They were very sincere in their hospitality and friendliness, and amazingly open about everything except that one question. Outside of the hovercraft they sped past other hovercraft, pedestrians and buildings. They were going into the heart of the capital city and the quiet, peaceful suburbans had given way to a normal, bustling city. There was nothing out of the ordinary here, nothing that looked all that fascinating. “And this is where we broadcast entertainment to the cities,” Hariko said. Archer looked at him and then the building he was motioning at. It was the tallest building in the city, rising nearly two hundred floors. “We call them television stations back home,” Archer commented. “Television? It’s called so many things here. Perhaps even television.” Archer smiled, glancing at Malcolm sitting beside him. Malcolm had been keeping at rigid attention for the last two hours, and if there was one thing Archer had learned about the man over the last nine years, this was a tell-tale sine he was bored. He’d become more professional, more polite, when he was bored to tears, and refused to admit it until Trip had asked him a few dozen times — Trip and his wife being the only two that could get him to admit it. Archer looked away when the hovercraft stopped. The group got out and Hariko led them inside. Archer was actually fascinated by television stations. The fact that anything actually got done with what appeared to be chaos was his sole reason for the interest. Hariko and Archer talked through five floors. Each time they got on the lift Archer glanced at Malcolm, finding him no less composed than before, no more interested than he had been when they landed. The three exited the lift on the fifth floor and entered a long hallway. On either side, behind clear walls, were rows of monitors showing every broadcast on air at that very moment. “You have a lot of stations.” Archer commented, looking down the hall. About twenty feet ahead the hall turned, ending the rows of monitors. Behind the clear walls Hiroutan were doing jobs of mystery to Archer. “Not really. These are actually being broadcast to us from across the planet and then sent out again to various satellites. Not all satellites get the same broadcasts.” “One hundred channels and nothing on,” Archer joked. “I’m sorry?” “It’s an old joke. At times you can have access to a hundred television channels and there can be nothing of interest on.” Hariko laughed. “I have never had that happen. Yet.” Archer glanced back at Malcolm to see if he’d found the joke entertaining at all. He stopped, finding Malcolm standing at the other end of the hallway, staring at a monitor. “Just a moment, Hariko.” Archer said to him. Hariko turned, watching Archer walk back to Malcolm. “Malcolm,” Archer said quietly. Malcolm didn’t pay any attention. Archer saw Malcolm’s hand flex like he was controlling something. He stopped beside him, looking at the monitors Malcolm was facing. His gaze stopped on one showing a motocross race. He smiled, looking at Malcolm. He laid a hand on Malcolm’s shoulder and Malcolm tore his gaze away. “Come on,” Archer said. Malcolm glanced back at the monitor as he turned away. Archer walked back to Hariko, sorry he had to pull Malcolm away from the race. But it had made an idea spring to mind, one that required Malcolm’s absence. # Malcolm sighed, watching the suburbs pass. Archer and Hariko were talking about the plans for the day. The driver turned into a heavy flow of hovercraft and headed east of the city. Malcolm looked down at his hands, trying to keep himself entertained. He failed. He was bored. He’d been bored for two days. He had asked, nearly begged, Trip to take his place this time, but Trip refused. He wasn’t about to get stuck for six days on a planet of people who didn’t appear to have a whole lot of entertaining things to do. Although that was clearly a large misconception after he’d seen the thousand televised broadcasts yesterday and the huge variety of them, but still he wished Trip had agreed to take his place. The hovercraft veered away from the traffic. Malcolm glanced out at the land. It resembled the hills above Los Angeles. The driver slowed and turned again. Malcolm looked up, watching them pass through gates. They entered a parking lot with hundreds of hovercraft. The backdrop of a stadium hid what was happening from view. ‘Maybe something of interest today,’ Malcolm told himself. He looked down. Malcolm suddenly noticed Archer and Hariko were silent. He looked up at them. They were watching the activity outside. They passed through a second gate and Malcolm’s interest suddenly peaked. There were dozens of Hiroutan kneeling beside dirt bikes, preparing them for racing. The hovercraft turned and stopped next to a garage. Malcolm was careful to hide his excitement. The driver opened their door and the three got out. A bike passed, kicking up a cloud of dust. Malcolm smiled, watching the rider disappear around a corner. Archer and Hariko had resumed talking, but they were drowned out by the engines revving, the sound of racers warming up beyond the small garages and the talking of the racers, and their mechanics and staff. They walked into a tent and Hariko spoke to another Hiroutan. Archer hung back, watching a mechanic working on a bike. Malcolm looked over his shoulder, watching the activity outside. “You’re going to need these,” Archer said, shoving something into Malcolm’s chest. Malcolm turned, looking down. Archer held a racing suit, boots, gloves, and helmet against Malcolm’s chest with a grin. “Sir?” “I asked a favor. They’re having amateur races today and I asked if anyone needed a rider. This team does, so I paid for your entry fee. You’d better qualify for the final race or whatever they call it.” Malcolm grinned, taking the equipment. Archer watched him disappear into the tent to change, Hariko walked back to Archer. “And you’re sure he can do this?” Hariko asked. Archer smiled. “He once raced a craft through an asteroid field at warp three. And won. I’m certain he can do this.” Hariko’s eyes narrowed with a sly smile. “Are you a betting man?” “I am.” “Three slips against him.” “Five.” “Done.” Hariko walked back to the hovercraft. Archer glanced back. Malcolm came out with his helmet under his arm and pulling on his gloves. A mechanic walked up to him and pointed at the bike. Malcolm walked over and knelt with him, becoming engrossed in the conversation. Archer decided to leave without a word. Malcolm was in his element and Archer was happy to let him stay there. # Archer walked up to the door and tapped the doorbell. It opened and he walked in. Sista was sitting on the floor with Jon Nathan on her lap, a book open before them. Kasbra was playing with a doll. She dropped it and ran to Archer. “K’PAN!” Kasbra said, throwing her arms around his legs. Archer swung her up in a hug. “Kasbra!” Archer walked over and sat down with Sista, looking at the book. “What is this?” “Malcolm brought back. He bought all us things. Spoiled us.” Archer laughed. “I didn’t realize how much money they paid for second place in those races.” Sista smiled. “You made his life by letting him do that, Jonathan. You know this, ta?” Archer nodded. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him that excited. You should have seen him, Vardee. He was like a schoolboy in a candy store the whole time.” “He still excited.” “Where is he?” “I dunno. He left with Trip. That means trouble.” “Usually. You know, I knew he’d raced bikes when he was a teenager, but I didn’t think he’d pick it back up that fast. You should have seen him, Vardee.” “I have. He brought record back. Compliments of Hariko.” “Did he show you that second qualifying race?” “I see all. Three or four times.” Archer laughed. “Did you see that fourth hill? Those two bikes nearly hit him and that jump he made to miss them!” “He very proud of that.” “If roles were reversed, I would be too.” “You proud. Proud you think it and arrange it.” Archer laughed. “I’m always forgetting you sense emotions.” “That not sensing. That see.” Sista tapped his cheek. “Face tell all.” Archer laughed. He looked up. On a wall shelf Malcolm’s trophy sat among several of Sista’s treasures. “Try recreation room. Play basketball I think. You go beat him and he may hush about win.” “Alright. I’m going to drag Kasbra with me.” “Please.” Archer stood and swung Kasbra up in his arms. Sista watched the door, smiling. She looked up at the trophy. “Humans can be strange, Jon.” “Why?” Jon asked, looking up at Sista. She smiled down at him. “They don’t say what the feel when should.” “I’ll always say what I feel, mama.” “Ta?” “Yes. Read to me, please.” Sista turned back to the book. |
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