Kirk was about to lie down and revisit the New World when the train squealed to a stop at a station. He was expecting this: the train had been crawling through an urban area for the past ten minutes. What he didn't expect was the sight of another train at the station. It seemed to have just arrived from the opposite direction - Buffalo? - and was pulled by a small diesel engine. Its angular shapes suggested it wasn't much younger than the steam Baldwin at the head of Kirk's train.
Intrigued, he got up to get a better look. He was just in time to see the other train depart: the diesel hooted, and a shudder ran along the train. Clanking and rattling, the carriages began to move. It was a short train: two passenger cars, six cargo, ending with a cistern. As it moved forward, it revealed a small group of people standing on the platform across the tracks. They had obviously just gotten off the train: clutching their luggage, they were hurriedly lining up in front of an enterprising man who appeared to be selling corn-on-the-cob from a handcart.
Fascinated, Kirk watched the corn being snapped up, ignoring the sounds of activity behind his back: slamming doors, footsteps hurrying along the corridor, voices asking questions, muffled answers. He pushed his window open and inhaled the cold air and smelled the corn - it was buttered! Lord Almighty! He wouldn't have minded buying a couple of cobs himself.
Most of the people in the lineup were buying more than two. In fact, they were buying so many that the corn was all gone before the last person in the lineup - a young man in an anorak carrying an enormous backpack - could buy any. The corn guy instantly wheeled his cart around and started pushing it towards the platform exit.
"Hey," the young man shouted. "Hey! I wanted to buy some! I wanted to buy some corn!"
The Baldwin engine emitted a piercing whistle and Kirk almost fell over when the train jerked and began creeping forward. He steadied himself with a hand on the open window, and slid it shut.
Simultaneously, the compartment door behind his back slammed as someone wrenched it open. Kirk turned and saw a big travelling bag enter his compartment. It fell to the floor with a thump, revealing a young woman, hardly more than a girl. She had shoulder-length blond hair with a center parting and was dressed in a sheepskin jacket with fur trim and jeans and knee-high boots. A bulging satchel that matched the bag hung from her shoulder. She was breathing heavily from exertion, and she was quite pretty. She looked at Kirk and said:
"Oh. I'm sorry. I thought this compartment was empty."
"Unfortunately it isn't," Kirk said. "I'm sure you can find one further down the carriage. But why don't you sit down for a minute to catch your breath? Then I'll help you find a place."
"Thanks." She stepped over the bag and sat down, and Kirk congratulated himself for having made up his bunk prior to leaving for his earlier meeting with the other governors.
"Deborah Wilson," she said, introducing herself without looking at Kirk. His irritation instantly disappeared. Debbie! Just like his wife! The traveling bag and the satchel were made of thick coffee-colored leather: the girl had class, too - Kirk recognized class instantly.
"Kirk Lander," he said, and felt some of his earlier irritation return: the girl showed no sign of recognizing his name. "Governor of California."
That got her attention, all right. She looked at Kirk, eyes widening.
"Wow," she said. "A governor? Wow. This means, does it mean you're already been there? In the New World?"
"Many times." Kirk thought briefly about sitting down next to her, but decided to remain standing. It allowed him to talk down to her without appearing to.
"Really? Could you tell me a little about it? You see, I'm on my way to join my boyfriend in New York. Him and me and some friends are going to start a colony. He's already registered a mint!"
"You're going to start a colony?" repeated Kirk, somewhat doubtfully. He couldn't quite see that girl sleeping in the open and chopping wood and skinning dead animals and cooking food over an open fire.
"Oh yes. I can't wait. It sounds like paradise. Clean air and water, no sickness or disease, and pure, unspoiled nature all around."
"Well it's not quite like that," Kirk said diplomatically.
"Really? But that's what I heard."
"Well it's definitely true about the air and water," said Kirk. "As long as you drink from a stream or a spring. And there is no flock of sheep doing the same thing a little upstream, urinating and defecating while they're drinking. They like to do that. As for the air, you must know you'll be doing a lot of breathing inside a house with one or more fires burning. It can get pretty smoky, at times."
"Oh."
"Sickness and disease, hmm. How shall I put it. It's true we haven't seen any epidemics so far. But a lot of people had, uh, upset stomachs. And it's easy to catch a cold. Also, life there is, is... very physical. It's likely you'll be carrying at least a few bruises and cuts at any given time."
"Oh." This time, he heard suspicion in her voice. He said:
"At least that's been my experience. Tell me, are you planning to launch your colony from New York?"
"I think so, yes."
"You realize tens, maybe hundreds of thousands of New Yorkers will be doing the same thing?"
"Do you really think so?"
"More than that. I'm practically sure of it. In San Francisco for example, the interest has been immense. I'm estimating that there will be at least a couple of million colonists in California."
"But isn't there ten times as much space? I heard there's a difference in scale."
"There is. My point is, it might be wiser to launch a colony in a different spot from a million other people."
"My boyfriend says we'll be ahead of everyone else, " Deborah Wilson said confidently. "We're going right on the first of March."
"It will be the middle of the fall over there. Please keep in mind you'll be arriving stark naked, and without any tools or food."
"Oh boy. You really are encouraging, with all this stuff."
"Sorry if I disillusioned you. That's the way things are. I just wanted you to know."
She kept a slightly hostile silence throughout their search for a free compartment, and refused Kirk's help in moving her luggage. He said goodbye and left her, shrugging. Kids! They always had to learn the hard way. He'd had to learn the hard way too, when he was a kid. That was just the way things were.
He finally got to lay down and fall asleep nearly an hour later than he'd planned. In consequence, he arrived in the New World just as the day was drawing to a close. However, it was good timing in other respects. He found himself seated at the table, halfway through a dinner prepared by his housekeeper: a whole roasted fowl of some kind, mashed turnip, and buttered corn. It was delicious, especially the buttered corn. He'd wanted some ever since he'd smelled the cobs sold by the guy at the station, earlier. And really, New World food was so much tastier!
He was about to ask his housekeeper for a second helping when the front door banged open, and Adam stormed in.
"Dad," he said, "I'm sorry to interrupt your meal, but we must talk at once. In private," he added, glancing at the housekeeper hovering by the back door. She reddened and left. When they could no longer hear her her footsteps, Adam said:
"One of the patrols just came back. Dad, they ran into a settlement belonging to our colony."
"What! When? Where? I mean, which settlement?"
"It's a new one. Bernard's been pushing south to reach San Francisco Bay as close to March 1st as possible. I told him to be careful, Dad. I told him we've got patrols going all along the shore. Fortunately the people there, our settlers managed to run and hide before the soldiers saw them."
"Then how do they, how do you know it's one of our settlements?"
"They've searched the camp and brought back a couple of pots. They're our pots, Dad. I recognized them."
"Shit. Forgive me if I continue eating."
"Of course."
Kirk cut away a slice of roast meat, speared it with his knife and put it in his mouth. He chewed thoughtfully for a while, swallowed, and said:
"We must warn Bernard. Adam, you have to go home and tell him what's afoot."
"I'll be absent for a week. Someone might get suspicious, Dad."
"You'll be absent from San Francisco, back on Earth. You'll be present here. That's what counts. What's keeping you in San Francisco, anyway? You don't need to be there, do you?"
"I do. I'm meeting Randy tomorrow. He's going to brief me on Placek. He also said he'll have a rough plan of her settlement. He's actually commanding a troop there."
"Ah! That's very important. You must stay for that. You can go home after you've seen Randy."
"But that's ten New World days, Dad. If we don't send out a stronger patrol to investigate that settlement within a week at the outside, eyebrows will be raised and all sorts of rumors may start. We can't afford that."
"That's true. We can't. You know something? Give me an hour. Let me finish dinner and give it proper thought. I'm sure I'll come up with something."
"You want me to come back in an hour?"
"Yes. And Adam? It wouldn't hurt if you did some thinking too, in the meantime. Who knows, you might come up with a winner."
"Okay. See you later, Dad."
Kirk finished his food without much pleasure, eating mechanically while his brain raced to find a solution to this new predicament. He couldn't allow anyone to find out about the Lander colony - not just yet. March 1st was only three days away, back on Earth. But that was a full month in the New World.
He looked at the debris on his wooden plate, then picked up the bone from the drumstick and bit its soft end off. He gnawed on the bone until it was reduced to a handful of splinters, licked clean of aspic. One of these, with a particularly sharp end, pricked his tongue while he was sucking on it.
Kirk winced; then a beatific smile slowly spread on his face. He had found a way out!
He pushed his plate away, wishing he had a cigar. He deserved it.
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