Lost Past (26 page)

             
“I don’t think they know,” Natalie replied. “They say the first step is to show that mouthed
Plict
can live without Buds. They are making jobs safer, so mouthed
Plict
will be willing to do them. They feel the Buds are taking over the world.”

“Mouthed
Plict
can easily stop making Buds,” John said.

             
“They have, here. It’s illegal to keep Buds from
visiting
a public community, so they pretend Buds are here.”

             
“The pretense isn’t very good,” Arthur said. “Some Buds spotted it very quickly.”

             
“They have a secret rule that no one can bud. Everyone has to be seen by a government official about once a month. If they’ve gained too much weight, they’re starved to thinness.”

             
John asked, “What happens elsewhere if a
Plict
buds without a permit? In general, I mean.”

             
“His Bud owes him no loyalty. Usually they are loyal anyway for a few months, but they all know, because the progenitor knows,” she explained. “They are not allowed to pay him any money and the progenitor is kept thin after that. There are also some pretty big fines.”

             
While they continued their discussion, Natalie prepared salads with goat cheese and hardboiled eggs. Both men helped.

             
“How is it that we were kidnapped by the only two conspiracies that are on the opposite sides of an issue?” Natalie wondered.

             
“We
weren’t
,” Arthur said. John realized Arthur’s smile was not limited to when he said things from John’s past. Arthur also enjoyed telling what he figured out, but others hadn’t.

             
Both John and Natalie looked at Arthur, waiting for an explanation. “It’s too wild a coincidence. I don’t believe it for a minute. There must be hundreds of these conspiracies.”

             
“But they don’t seem to know about each other,” Natalie protested.

             
“That’s because they’re better at keeping secrets than at recruiting.“

             
John asked Natalie, “What do the
Plict
here fear the most from Buds?”

             
“What do you mean?”

             
“What’s the worst case scenario? I gather the Buds are afraid they’ll stop making Buds. I mean, they don’t have to, do they?”

             
“They did that once,” Natalie said. “It was centuries ago. All the soldiers and police were Buds and they took over, or nearly so. The
Plict
simply stopped making Buds.
They waited until all were dead
before starting over again.”

             
“I presume that’s what the Buds fear. What do the mouthed
Plict
fear?”

             
“Becoming Bud-making machines. Some of them are, but imagine being kept a prisoner and required to make Buds, but nothing else,” Natalie replied. “Why do you want to know?”

             
“Because someone is doing it,” John replied.

             
“What makes you say that?” Natalie asked.

             
John turned to Arthur and asked, “Arthur, are the
Plict
more moral than humans?” As he said it, he guessed why he knew so little about the
Plict
. Studying them would be like eavesdropping on God.

             
“Perhaps they are a bit, but not so you’d notice. There’s just as much crime for a reason, to make them ‘safe, satisfied or solvent,’ as Nero Wolfe said, but not as much mischievous damage. Their news is just as full of crime and wars as ours. In theory, they’re under one government, but the government is pretty weak and they’re regional rivalries, which often erupt into warfare.”

             
“Well, we’re about to make it worse. This community is the Buds’ worst fear. I’m sure somewhere there’s a community that is the mouthed
Plict’s
worst fear.”

             
“That seems reasonable. It may be small scale, but someone is bound to have tried it,” Arthur said.

             
“Can I quote you on that?” John asked.

             
“Of course. Give me a couple of minutes and I’ll make a few wild assumptions and even come up with some inadequately based numbers. Numbers make things more plausible and always impress people.”

             
Nata
lie handed him a tablet and pen
even while asking, “Will it impress the
Plict
?” Arthur nodded absently, but was quickly lost in calculations.

             
While Arthur started scribbling numbers, John asked Natalie, “Do you consider the
Plict
people?”

             
Natalie thought for several seconds before answering. “I suppose I do. They’re my jailers, and I can’t be terribly sympathetic toward them. It’s been hard to fight the Stockholm syndrome because some of them are nice individuals. This community is the dream of so many of them, and sometimes I’ve been convinced it is my duty to keep it a
secret.”
             

             
“You didn’t stay convinced,” John said, analyzing less what she said than how she said it.

             
“I can never forgive what they’ve done to Patience,” Natalie said. “They think she can help with increased safety for jobs, but she’ll never do that in secret. She’ll have to see the jobs to figure out what is needed.”

             
“Why do they want increased safety?” John asked.

             
“Because mouthed
Plict
would be able to do the jobs if they were safer. There would be no need for Buds.”

             
“What did they do to me?” asked a girl who must have been Patience, who was coming through the doorway. She spoke English with a stronger accent than Natalie’s. John thought she was small for her age, but wasn’t sure. Her brown hair was braided and she wore pants that looked like cargo pants and a jacket with many pockets.

             
“Patience, this is John Graham, also known as Zhexp, and your father, Arthur Saunders. Arthur and John, this is Patience.” John remained absolutely still. Patience had never met a human male before, and now she saw two. She
glanced at John, but her gaze fixed on Arthur.
No one moved. Arthur stared at Patience, his computations forgotten. Finally Patience asked, “
What did they do to me?”
             

             
“They m
ade it so you have no community,” Natalie said. “
It’s too late for you to completely adjust to being human, and you will never be completely accepted by the
Plict
.”

             
“Oh, that.”

             
John believed in honesty, but this seemed incredibly blunt. Arthur gave Natalie a troubled glance. Natalie defended herself. “Patience is going to have enough difficulty in life without being lied to. She understands the situation, including the fact that someday the
Plict
may just kill us both to cover up our kidnapping. Patience, we’re going to try to escape, but we’re not sure we can make it. I want you to go to your room and pick up a few things you value and bring them out.
Plan
three.” Patience abruptly went down a hall, apparently knowing what
“plan
three
”
meant.

             
“You obviously have food,” John said. “Do you have things we could carry on the ship? I don’t know when we’ll be able to get Earth food.”

             
“Yes. Why don’t you help Patience while Arthur and I decide what to take.” Natalie looked at Arthur in exasperation before leaving the room. He obviously wasn’t ready to leave his calculations. John headed the direction Patience went and found her dragging what appeared to be a sheet full of things. “Do you need any help?” he asked her in
Vigintees
.

             
“Yes. It’s heavier than I thought.”

             
“It didn’t take you long to decide what to take,” John said, curious at her speed and efficiency.

             
“Mom does drills. She said we might have no time, and I’d have to make a decision fast. We mainly did level one and level two, though.”

             
“What does plan three
mean?
Are there plans one and two?
” John asked, while picking up the sheet
. They went outside, keeping to the path
hidden by pines.

             
“For
plan
three, I have five minutes to decide.
Plan
two, I have two minutes, and it has to be light enough to carry easily.
Plan
one, well, that means drop everything and come, even if I’m not dressed.” They stowed the stuff onboard the ship. Patience resorted things, putting certain items in a backpack and pockets, leaving others loose.

             
John indicated the backpack and asked, “
Plan
two?”

             
Patience smiled and said, “Yes.
Although I’m supposed to carry food too.
I’m always supposed to have some in my pockets.”

             
Natalie and Arthur came burdened with food. After putting her load in the ship, Natalie went to a small outbuilding and opened the door. Cautiously, a few chickens came out. More followed, and they headed into the garden with its bounty of fresh food. “John, there’s sort of a cellar. I’ve put a pile on the floor. . .”

             
“Of course,” John replied.

             
The cellar had shelves of food in bags, but several bags were on the floor. He picked up a large bag of dried beans, another labeled sundried tomatoes, and a third labeled dried chicken. They were awkward to carry, but he decided he could take another trip to get the bags whose labels he hadn’t read. Returning outside, he found his way was blocked by
three mouthed
Plict
.

             
I
only
need to delay them, he thought. The others can get away. He just stood there, holding the food, but suddenly realized they couldn’t get away. Arthur might be able to fly the ship with the computer functioning, but they didn’t dare turn it on. Linda’s virus, which allowed them to escape, would get them captured.

             
All three of the
Plicts
pointed weapons at him. John couldn’t see if the oth
ers were in the ship. John
stood there while one turned and walked toward the ship, stopping at the edge of the pines. Natalie said earlier that the
Plict
wouldn’t go there, but he didn’t understand why. Arthur came out of the ship, but didn’t leave the pines. Where were Natalie and Patience? He couldn’t see them. John could see Arthur looked frightened, yet determined.

             
John wanted something that would attract their attention away from the humans and toward another goal. These
Plict
were part of a conspiracy to live without Buds. Whatever else their motivation, they would not be happy about what the Buds on the bird sanctuary were doing.

             
“We have news of a Bud conspiracy,” John said. “They’re faking their deaths and hiding. Two of them came to check out this place a few days ago. They have a recording of a mouthed
Plict
in a mask to make him look like a Bud.” The
Plict
reaction was enough to suggest that they were interested.

             
“This is Arthur Saunders, who did some calculations about Buds keeping your kind prisoners and forcing them to Bud.”

             
“You’re inventing this,” said one of the
Plict
.

             
“You’ll find a tablet inside,” Arthur said.

             
The
Plict
that spoke gestured to one of the other
Plict
. John was amused to note that mouthed
Plict
used gest
ures too. The
Plict
went inside
and came out with a tablet. “It says nine.”

             
“Nine
Plict
being held?” asked the one John considered the leader.