Alicia argued. Joe tried phoning someone in authority. Joe realised he knew no one with that kind of authority. Joe accepted it. Alicia was still complaining when the Minibus hovered at the back of Joe’s house.
“This sort of thing would never happen back home. Never. Wow, if I ever find out who… I can get our Embassy to do something. There could be an official protest.”
“Birds getting on Sir.” He wore a ministry chauffeurs uniform.
“Yes…. Alicia. You’ve got my house to stay in. You’ve got your job and friends at The Embassy. You should be OK. I’ll send you messages every day. You can reply. Its not for ever.”
“But how long is it?” Asked Alicia.
“Don’t know.” Now Joe had torn himself away and was stepping onto the minibus “Bye. Speak to you soon.”
The door shut. The bus wheeled away and headed south over the Mediterranean towards the high buildings of Egypt. Joe was the only passenger. That was odd. “Where are we headed?”
“Rose Red.” The driver finished sucking a plum and spat the stone on the cab floor.
“Oh. Um OK.” Joe had been to Rose Red before. It was a small Navy Base south east of Jerusalem near Jibal ah Sharah. Mostly used for government messengers, diplomatic flights. VIPs who were too important to use a regular spaceport. Joe was honoured.
The minibus flew east over Gaza. The pilot seemed good. The heavy traffic, tall buildings and crowded ways didn’t slow him.
“You seem to know this route.”
“Oh yeah. Bin a jam jarin the City of Light for… Oh, donkeys now. Aint many shortcuts I don’t know. Reckon I been down jus’ about every kermit there is. That your strife eh? Nice twist. You wanah be careful there. There’s plenty a strawberry splits wouldn’t mind their germans on her thrupennys. Or her rubics.”
“Oh….Right. Carry any interesting people?”
“Oh most fridges is interesting. Least ways to em selves they are. But I guess you mean faces don’t yah?”
“Yes.”
“Nope. Thing is one reason I got this shirk. The only reasons, come to it. I’m not a cruiser. Not a patterer. I don’t grass. Never have. Least not bout private stuff. Not bout who I carry. Diplomats. Politicians. Military. All them braces an peddle crankers. Come in and out of Government Mickys like they was never on Earth at all. See if any folks is asking after you. Folks from Mirconium maybe. Then I jus stays shtum.”
“Mirconium? Have you heard anything?”
“I Jus hear I got to get me peepers open for any Mirconium jam rolls after your niagaras.”
“Yeah…OK.” Joe kept quiet and watched the view below. Flying cranes bringing sections for more new buildings. More hills being levelled or replaced by giant pits.
They flew across the Rift valley just south of the Dead Sea, over ground almost totally hidden beneath concrete domes and towers.
“Rose Red comin up ahead there. They named it after some poem. Some ancient thing. Rose Red Runway or some such. Here tis.”
The mini bus touched down. There was a warm wind from the south. Joe stepped out onto a large flat bright concrete roof, its surface slowly eroded by wind, sun, manoeuvring jets and landing gear.
“You best go down them steps there.”
“OK. Thanks for the ride.” Joe got his bag and descended into the bare cement coolness below. There was a reception desk. Joe said who he was.
“Please report to the medical centre on the ground floor.” Said the reception desk.
“Where?”
“Please follow the route map on my screen.” Said the reception desk.
Joe thought better of arguing with a machine and jumped down a gravity well to the ground floor.
There were real people there, mostly in Navy uniforms, waiting to come or go. Looking bored or nervous or happy. He guessed the happy ones were homeward bound.
Joe phoned Alicia. “ I’m at Rose Red. I guess I will be going into space.”
“Oh Joe. It could be months.”
“Yeah. I love you.”
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