The Gravitational Leap. Darrell Lee

blood and three sets of boot prints leading to the west but no body. So, you see, the testimony of the both of you is all we have,” Maldor said.

      “We recovered a backpack full of intel,” Alyd said.

      “And it had a strange-looking walkie-talkie inside. Certainly that must be of some use. Have you seen that?” Timo asked.

      Maldor removed the walkie-talkie from a pocket of his jacket and placed it on the table. “We have received those items,” Maldor said. “The radio is unique. It appears to have a way to encode the radio signal it transmits. No way our scanners would pick the signal up. It could have other features of which we are unaware. We will continue to examine it and the other items in the pack. Besides those items, did you recover anything else, from his person or in his pockets?”

      Timo could feel Alyd stop breathing.

      “No, sir,” Timo said.

      “Is there any other relevant information either of you would like to add?”

      “No, sir,” Timo said.

      Maldor looked at Alyd; so did Timo.

      “No, sir,” she said.

      Piet, a short, round man with no neck and long black hairwho oversaw the manufacturing of glass, electronics, metals, ammunition, and armaments, spoke to Maldor.

      “My concern is the radio. The technology is new; the manufacturing is better than anything we have. If they can do that with a radio, they can do it with weaponry.”

      “I doubt they made it,” Maldor said. “More likely it is the spoils of a conflict with a clan from their home territory.”

      Next, Eduart, the youngest member, with brown hair and a chiseled jaw who managed agriculture production and village civil maintenance, chimed in. “If they have formed an alliance, they would more than triple our number of soldiers. Maybe not enough to breach our wall, but certainly enough to put us under siege. We barely have enough food stored to get us through the winter—if the coming winter isn’t too severe. If they keep us penned inside the wall through early spring, we won’t be able to get the crops planted in time. We’ll starve.”

      Suddenly Timo felt irrelevant—it was a relief. Alyd still sat rigid.

      “Sjund won’t wait. Time is not on his side. He is going to attack, sooner rather than later. Bartel, double the number of the wall sentries,” Maldor said.

      “How can you be so sure?” Bartel asked.

      Maldor looked at Bartel. “I know how my son thinks. I know what his motivations are. An attack is coming. He knows the perils of staying this far north in the winter. He’ll throw everything he has at our defenses. Of course, his main goal will be the Tower. Double the number of guards per shift. Prepare your men for war.” Maldor looked at Piet. “Make sure the ammunition production is operating as efficiently as possible, three shifts per day.”

      “I will,” Piet said, “but it would be a great help if I could get more electricity.”

      “Three hours a day is all we can spare. The rest of the day has to be by hand,” Maldor said.

      Svart looked the physical opposite of Piet—very slim, very tall, with short blond hair. He spoke next. “I would like to plead again to the council that once the winter is over, we abandon the village and move the people farther south where the growing season lasts longer. I have spoken to Piet extensively and he is in agreement. The harvest was down over ten percent this season.”

      “We cannot move. You know that. We must stay here with the reactor,” Maldor said.

      “We’ll all die here waiting for you to use the reactor,” Svart snapped. “You don’t even know it will work.”

      “I am not debating this with you again. It will work—the science is sound,” Maldor said.

      “Sound?” Piet shot back. “This is a theory that is centuries old. You want to talk about science? I have been collecting data for years now, and without a doubt the growing season is shrinking and the winter is growing and the rate of this change is accelerating. I predict this one will be the worst ever. What are we going to do when roofs are collapsing from the weight of the snow and ice? When the cattle and horses freeze to death and have to be slaughtered? What good will the reactor be if we are all dead?”

      “Excuse me?” Alyd said.

      Suddenly the council members were aware of what they were debating in front of two soldiers.

      “If war is coming to our village, can we go?” Alyd asked.

      “I believe we are finished with you. I have spoken to your C.O.; you have the rest of the day off. You are dismissed,” Maldor said.

      The rest of the council remained silent.

      The sounds of their footsteps echoed in the room as they left. As soon as the doors shut behind him, Timo could hear the muffled arguing continue.

      Chapter 3

      Timo and Alyd waited for the guard to open the metal door that led outside. Once it was opened enough for passage, he waved them through.

      They heard the timing bell being rung in the Tower courtyard. Out of habit, Timo and Alyd looked at the watches on their wrists and they corrected them to read 12:00. They turned toward home, without really thinking about it. The snow fell heavier than when they had entered the chamber. Fat, lazy flakes meandered down from the sky and stuck to everything. Mercifully, the wind had eased; when they stood on the lee side of the street it actually felt calm. Smoke billowed from chimneys and drifted and curled its way down the streets and alleys.

      “A reactor is what they called it,” Alyd said once they were a block away. “That’s what makes the electricity that powers the lights inside the Tower and on the wall.” Alyd stopped and looked back at the Tower. “I bet that’s what makes steam come out of those vents.”

      “Wow, did you notice how warm it is inside the chamber? I bet the Tower is the same way,” Timo said, trying to judge Alyd’s level of anger.

      “Just shut up! I can’t believe you lied to the High Council,” Alyd said.

      Yep, pretty damn mad.

      “I didn’t lie. I just didn’t tell them everything. What difference could that knife make anyway?” Timo said, vainly attempting to defend a position he knew he couldn’t.

      “Evidently, they think anything that scout carried is important. Maldor even had the radio in his pocket.”

      “That is strange. Usually intel goes to Bartel’s office. Why would he have it?” Timo asked.

      “Because it’s important. Really important. We don’t have to know why; we are just supposed to give the leaders all the information we have and let them decide. Clearly the Denock and Asus have joined together—they far outnumber us. That radio was new and different; either they made it or they stole it. The same thing applies to any weapons they may have. Just like that knife!” Alyd struggled to keep her voice calm.

      Timo didn’t respond. Alyd silently fumed as they walked without talking. The fresh snow crunched under their boots. Children came out of their dwellings and began their walk to the school near the center of the village. Unhappily, they trudged through the snow, stopping at street corners to gather in groups of three and four and then head down the street, leaving tiny footprints behind them.

      At the end of the autumn season, as the threat from the Denock appeared to increase, the High Council ordered all the families that farmed to move inside the wall for the winter, along with their cattle, horses, and poultry. It made a crowded situation that much worse. Timo and Alyd could spot the families that had just moved inside the walls. They were always clothed in drab, soil-stained clothing and worn jackets that had spent a lot of time in the elements. The children played about in the street, not yet enrolled in the