Pennsylvania Omnibus (5 page)

Jed spent the next thirty minutes squirming in his chair. 
Rheems looked up from his work occasionally and scowled whenever Jed would
inadvertently bang his knee against the desk or knock his elbow against the
chair next to him.  The area where the catheter had been placed itched and
irritated him, and he kept imagining the ship leaving for New Pennsylvania
without him.  Conrad had, according to Rheems, “gone to see the magistrate,”
whatever that meant, and Jed was left to cool his heels, hanging perilously
between the possibility of being exiled for life to Oklahoma, and some other
fate he could not even imagine.

When Conrad returned to the security office, he didn’t
waste any time letting Jed know that his fate had been determined.

“Okay, get up.  Get your shoes on.  Looks like you got
really lucky.  You’re going on your trip.  The magistrate has decided to send
you on to New Pennsylvania and remand your case over to the court there.  We’re
not allowed to hold you here indefinitely, and we can’t get any form of
transport into the exile lands, so grab whatever belongs to you and let’s get
you on your ship.”

Jed slipped on his shoes, and when he stood up, Hugh
Conrad was standing only inches from him. The older man leaned in toward him in
a way that seemed threatening.  Jed wondered if the man had somehow seen the
gold coin in his shoe. 
No.  There’s no way he could have seen it.

“Be glad you’ll be asleep all the way to New PA, pal,”
Conrad said.  “That way you can’t get yourself into any more trouble.”

The remainder of the boarding process passed in a flash
compared to the torture of waiting in the security office to learn of his
fate.  As Jed walked into the ship, his heart pounded and his palms grew clammy
and damp.  An attendant, seeing that he was nervous, led him to his pod and
helped him to settle in.  The pods on this level were aligned not unlike the
benches on the airbus that brought him to West Texas.  Rather than rudimentary
seats, however, the pods themselves were egg-shaped cocoons with heavy lids
that could be closed once the passenger was lying inside and the takeoff
process was about to begin.  Each pod lid had a large glass window embedded in
it so that the passengers who chose the active monitoring option could be
checked regularly during the duration of the flight.  Jed thought it strange
that there were Transport employees who would make the flight in Earth time
and, other than the regular kind of daily sleep, would remain awake for the
entire voyage.  This meant that they were giving up almost a decade of their
lives to the one interstellar flight that they would ever make. 
It’s a good
thing these flights are subsidized
, Jed thought. 
No one could afford
the trip otherwise.

Jed’s ticket had cost him five hundred thousand unis.  He
expected that he might have to spend another two hundred thousand in transit. 
Converted back into Amish money, a man couldn’t even build a really good barn
for that amount of money.

Before receiving the extra unis from Dawn, Jed had always
figured he’d be broke upon arriving in New Pennsylvania, just like his
ancestors had been when they first came to America.  His land, if he qualified,
would eventually be free.  He was planning to live and work with his boyhood
friend Matthias until he could build his own place.  The Plain People took care
of their own, so he knew if he could ever get to the AZ on his new planet, he’d
be taken care of.

The nurse hooked up his life-support system, attached a
tube to his catheter, and typed on some kind of computer screen that was built
into the wall of the pod.  Jed heard a beep, and then he felt a slight buzz of
vibration emanating from the band on his wrist.  He looked up at the nurse with
a look of concern on his face, and she smiled back at him.

“That’s just to indicate that your account has been
charged the additional one hundred thousand unis to pay for active monitoring. 
You chose this option when you paid for your ticket, correct?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Okay, good.  We’ll leave the lid open until we’re just
about ready to take off.  Whenever you’re set to go under, press the blue
button near your right hand and you’ll be out in less than a minute.  A lot of
people choose to go under immediately.  I think it eliminates the short period
of worry that people have at the beginning of any journey, and it makes the
flight seem shorter to them.  So, whenever you’re ready, just hit the button,
and when you open your eyes again, you’ll be in New Pennsylvania!”

“Thank you, ma’am.”  He looked up at her, and he knew that
the worry that he felt was not only his concern about being turned over to the
courts when he got to his new home planet.  Deep inside of him, perhaps
unrecognized and unexamined until now, was a fear that the ship would never get
to New Pennsylvania at all.

That’s why he’d paid for active monitoring, even though
the Amish colonization agent had advised him against it.  He felt safer knowing
that someone who was awake would check on him regularly to make sure nothing
had gone wrong with his life-support system.  Maybe doing it had showed a lack
of faith, but it definitely made him feel better about the trip.

“Ma’am… have you or the pilots… well… have
any
of
you done this before?”

The nurse laughed.  “No.  No one on this flight has ever
done this before, sir.  It’s a one-way flight, remember?”

“Yes.  I suppose.”

“Don’t worry now.  It’s as safe a trip as Transport, with
all their technology and expertise, can make it.  Everything is run by
computers anyway.  You’ll open your eyes and it’ll feel like you’ve just had a
good night’s rest, and we’ll be there.”

“Okay.  And thank you.”

“No problem.  Get some sleep, and I’ll see you on the
other side.”

The nurse walked away, and as she did, Jed tapped his toe
and remembered that the gold coin was still in his shoe.  He knew he was still
going to be in trouble when… if… he ever made it to New Pennsylvania, and he
didn’t want to add to his crimes.

Without taking much time to think about it or debate with
himself, he leaned forward and removed the coin from his shoe.  He looked
around to see if anyone was watching him, but everyone he could see was either
already unconscious, or was busy preparing for the flight.  He felt around
under his chair with his right hand, and he found a tight joint between the
chair pad and the frame.  He pressed the gold coin into the gap and felt around
the joint with his finger to make sure the coin didn’t stick out where it might
be seen by a nurse checking on him during the long years of flight.

Moments later, he was glad he’d taken the coin out of his
shoes.  The same attendant came back through the level and asked everyone for
their shoes.  She took each pair and placed it in a spring-loaded box that was
attached to the base of each pod.  When she took Jed’s shoes, she smiled at him
and said, “There now, you look better already!”

He watched as she finished out the level and then
disappeared through a curtain.

Lying there, he couldn’t figure out a reason to stay awake
any longer.  He was already sick with worry, and he knew if he decided to lie
there awhile, he’d fret about what was going to happen to him when the flight
was over.

He took a deep breath, and images of his brother Amos and
his mother and father flashed through his mind.  As he reflected on them, he
reached down with his right hand again and pressed the blue button.  He almost
immediately felt a cool sensation enter his veins, and the effect was
startling, although strangely pleasant.  As he lay back against the soft
padding of the seat and turned his head to his right, he began to experience
the strong narcotic effect of whatever medication was now coursing through
him.  He’d never experienced any drug—had never taken Quadrille.  The sensation
was bizarre.

Just before his eyes closed, he noticed a face in the pod
next to him that was looking back at him with a smile.  His eyes fluttered and
he tried to concentrate, but the darkness was coming and he couldn’t fight it
off.  He knew the face, but the name was slow in coming, and it occurred to him
only just as the lights went out.

Dawn
.

Coming out of suspended animation
was as remarkable as going into it.  Some level of consciousness returned
quickly, but Jed remained in a state of torpor for a while as synapses, long
unused, began to fire again.  He didn’t know where he was or what was going on,
but he knew who he was, and this knowledge was the substantive thread he first
grasped as he came out of his long sleep.

The cold in his veins was replaced by a slow, expanding
feeling of warmth and well-being.  To Jed, it seemed like he stayed in this
middling state of consciousness for hours, but in reality it was only minutes. 
He heard the pod lid release, and then there was a sound of gas or air escaping
as the lid rose automatically and light flooded in around him.  That was when
he noticed that a recording was playing in his ears, and he instantly knew that
the recording was repeating.  He’d heard it before, only now it was actually
passing through his conscious mind.

…the ship.  Everyone must stop at Medical for a release
before entering the station.  Do not be alarmed.  The process of reanimation is
proceeding normally.  You will feel confused, lightheaded, and weak at first,
but normal function will return quickly.  Your muscles have been continuously
stimulated during your voyage, and will function normally after a period of
acclimation.  After a short episode of reorientation, you will begin to be able
to feel and move normally.  Take your time exiting your pod.  When you do exit,
you will find Medical on your left as you disembark the ship.  Everyone must
stop at Medical for a release before entering the station.  Do not be alarmed. 
The process…

Jed closed his eyes tightly and flexed his neck, turning
his head from side to side.  He was doing an inventory of his body, and as he
did he felt his mind begin to warm and his consciousness grow.  He remembered
where he was and what he was doing.  When he opened his eyes, he saw a face
looking down on him, and he had to blink a few times for the face to come into
some semblance of clarity.  A name formed in his thoughts again, and he
realized it was the last name he remembered before falling asleep… Dawn.

Dawn gazed down at him with a concerned look on her face
before looking from left to right, as if she were in a hurry.

“Hurry up, Jed.  We have to go,” Dawn said.

“Uh… I…” he sputtered.

“Shut up.  We don’t have time for you to wake up and
figure it out.  We have to get out of here before everyone comes to.”  She
reached into his pod and removed his waste tube from his catheter.

“We’ll have to get that catheter out later,” she said as
she typed on the screen on the wall of his pod.  When she finished, she started
pulling him by his arm to get him moving.

“I…”

“Jed.  Don’t talk.  You’re in danger.  We’re
all
in
danger.  We have to get out of here.  Just do what I say and don’t ask
questions, okay?”

He stared at her, not knowing what he should think or
do.

Dawn put a finger in his face.  “If we’re still standing
here in two minutes, you
will
be arrested and you will never, ever make
it to the AZ.  Do you understand me?”

Jed blinked.

“I am the only hope you have of getting out of here and
getting home.  So put on your shoes and let’s go!”

He struggled to pull his shoes on his feet, and Dawn
didn’t give him enough time to lace them up.  She pulled him by his arm and
pushed him ahead of her until his feet started to cooperate with his brain. 
Pins and needles in his legs, arms, hands and feet gave him the first signs
that life was returning to his extremities.  Dawn continued to push and pull
him, but after a few steps, he stopped and bent over at the waist.  A deep,
diaphragmatic cough shook him to his core, and a blackish-gray, gelatinous mass
worked its way out of his lungs and mouth and was deposited on the floor.

“That’s actually not uncommon,” Dawn said, then reasserted
herself by pulling him by both his arm and shoulder.  He picked up the pace and
soon his legs were carrying him along without Dawn having to do most of the
work.

“Medical,” he said through another cough.

“What?” Dawn replied.

“I’m supposed to stop in Medical.”  He pulled up as if to
stop, but Dawn grabbed him again, shaking her head.

“If you stop at Medical, you’ll never be a free man
again.  Do you understand me?  We have to get out of here!”

They exited the long tunnel that led from the ship to the
gates and concourse.  As they hustled along, Jed noticed that the terminal
looked identical to the one in Columbia, where he’d met Dawn before flying to
West Texas.  Identical.  Only older.  As they ran, he noticed that the gate
area was unmanned, and the whole facility gave off the impression that it was
nearly, but not quite, abandoned.  It was as if a war were raging in and around
the place, and only a few functions still remained.  Some lights hung by wires
overhead, and here and there the bench seats were pushed out of line or were
turned over completely.

Jed looked over his shoulder as they ran, and he noticed
the sign that hung at a crooked angle over the counter at the gate.

Gate 13.

They ran past where, back in Columbia—back on Earth—he’d
purchased the soup and sandwich, but there was no vending machine in this
terminal.