Place: People's Republic of Kaitjan, Keshi district
* * *
The 17.00 flight from Khogra was late.
That in itself was nothing unusual . The distance between Khogra and Pakhodai valley was considerable, and the small I5 aircraft relied on good weather on both ends to make the weekly trip. But now Naira's Osnáati wristwatch showed 19.00 exactly, and two hours of delay was beginning to push the limits of what was acceptable. She looked up from dial and scanned the sky again. After the past few stormy days, it had finally cleared and was now a beautiful shade of pale blue. A pair of innocuously white clouds nestled between the twin peaks of distant Mount Yar, but they were also the only thing visible on the horizon. No plane, no quiet rumble of twin propeller engines - nothing. The skies were clear, slowly darkening as the warm evening sun slowly headed west.
Comrade Naira Tayva, Assistant Regional Political Overseer (a long title which was usually shortened to the more practical ARPO) popped another banana flavoured bubblegum. At a distance and on the other side of the runway, two billy-goats slammed their foreheads together with a wooden 'thump'. Naira looked in their direction just in time to see both of the hairy animals rear and bash their horned heads together a second time. The other goats had parted to give the brawlers room but save for the occasional glance they continued peacefully grazing the hardy mountain shrub which grew atop the ridge. Despite the sound of hard skulls bashing together and the quiet howl of the mellow wind, Pakho Airport was quiet as it peacefully slept in the summer sun. Standing on the concrete porch of the terminal Naira could see the entirety of the compound in all of its slowly crumbling glory. It was old, and ever since it had been built in the late 2970s it had not experienced much in the way of modernization or even repair. Not that it had been much of an airport to begin with; it only had one narrow runway which stretched across the flattest portion of the ridge. The touch-down zone was a few pesky metres short of a steep mountain drop, and the end and apron ended just in front of a large, jagged crag which had weathered all attempts to remove it. In the end, the original Keshi engineers had just given up, cobbled together a brick terminal and a workshop of corrugated metal and then left, never to come back. Perhaps the only real, man-made change to Pakho Airport since was the goat shed, the new 'Welcome to Pakhodai' sign written in Kaitjanese (the old Keshi one could be seen rusting in a remote corner of the compound) and the flagpole - which for the past quarter century had been flying the roaring tiger of the most glorious People's Republic. Other than that the airport remained a cheaply and hastily constructed version of the Keshi 2970s.
"Would you want some coffee, Miss Tayva?"
Naira looked over her shoulder. Ogodei Udzen - director, head maintenance engineer, flight coordinator and sole permanent employee of Pakho Airport - had come out from the terminal. Propping up the heavy iron door with his shoulder he showed her the thermos and cups.
"Oh sorry." He said. "Comrade Tayva. Pardon me. Do you want some coffee?"
"If you insist, comrade director." She said softly.
"Ah, it would be my pleasure." Ogodei said, and his dry lips parted in a smile, which, despite the discoloured teeth, was both warm and earnest. "Either inside or out here, however you want it. Maybe inside would be better, though. You never know with the wind - before you know it starts blowing hard and gives you a cold."
"It's still warm." Naira said. "I don't mind drinking it out here."
"Of course!" he exclaimed. "Then give me a moment and I will get the chairs."
The concrete porch facing the runway had a roof made of a corrugated metal sheet. The signs welded to it informed the new arrivals that inside the unseemly two-storey brick building they would find a checkpoint, staff offices, waiting room, baggage storage, and cafe, all of which were currently empty. The minivan driver had left for Pala some time ago, saying that if the 17.00 Khogra flight did eventually arrive, then they would have to call him, as he had better things to do but to sit around drinking stale soft drinks on the ridge all day. Propping the door open with a brick Ogodei hauled two chairs onto the porch, graciously offering Naira to pick whichever she wanted. Having thrown away the bubblegum she took the one to the right - both wooden seats were identical.
"Here you go." The director said, pouring some black brew into a cup and handing it to her. "Freshly made, I just poured it from the coffee-maker upstairs."
"Thank you."
"It's my pleasure."
He smiled again. He often did when Naira was around. As custom bid, he raised the cup slightly in the air above his head and took the first sip. It was a tradition which could be found all across Apisteftia - after welcoming his guest the host would drink and eat first, just to assure them that there was no poison present to ruin the meal. Even in the remote Dzur Massif in the eastern Brúudar mountains, there had been political intrigue in the past. Nowadays, however, there was not much of it, just as there wasn't much of anything in general. The valley which now stretched out in front of Naira and Ogodei seemed very tranquil indeed.
It was the largest of several valleys which nestled among the jagged peaks and grey crags of the Dzur Massif. Long before humans ever came here the Pakh river had made the long and arduous journey from the glaciers to the northeast to the lowlands. It had twisted and meandered like a snake to find its way through the mountains, and in its wake - wherever the conditions proved to be right and the ground could be suitably eroded by the running water - narrow valleys emerged, just as twisting and meandering as the river itself. Pakhodai was one of them. Now the Pakh river flowed along the bottom of the valley, the icy cold waters glittering in the sun. Above its banks were forested hills and slopes (some flatter than others) and which slowly turned into cliffs and mountainsides. Even without binoculars, one could vaguely see some of the tiny roads which desperately clung to the steep terrain, connecting the villages and small towns which perched like birds on ledges and crags - small and grey. The Pakhodai people had never been numerous, but for two thousand years they and their shaggy goats, cows and yaks had somehow got by in the mountains. Such tenacity deserved some respect.
"Is it good?" Ogodei asked.
"It's fine, thank you." Naira said, taking another tentative sip of the hot brew.
"Bah." He gave himself an annoyed smack in the forehead. It was very large forehead, and one which was quickly growing as his hairline retreated back over his skull. "I forgot you liked yours with milk. I can go get some just quick, I still have some in the fridge."
"No, it's fine." She assured him. "Thank you."
"Don't drink much milk myself." Ogodei continued, once again reclining in his chair. "The kiddies can have it. What's the point of me stealing their mama's milk?"
"Your goats have a very gracious host, then."
"They do important work, miss.. eh.. comrade Tayva. And they clear the ground better than anyone else for far cheaper. Not that anyone would want to cut the shrub up here. No, the goats earn their keep. Good animals. A bit of a character, the bucks, but they're good animals. You learn to appreciate them up here. It's company, even if they don't say much useful. Or maybe they do and I just don't understand it."
He chuckled to himself and Naira smiled. The director had a lonely job up here. She did not envy him. She tried some more of the coffee. It was made from powdered beans, but it was still decent, and decent made it good by local standards. Still a long shot from what was drunk in the north, of course.
Naira was a lowlander. Mostly, at least. In the eyes of the local mountain folk, however, it was quite obvious that she was an outsider, and the only way it would have been even more blatant would if she wore a sign around her neck. Her skin was darker than what was usual around here; a warm shade of olive more at home in the sweltering jungles of central heartlands than the mountains. Still pretty, though - she had softly rounded cheeks and chin, and a delicate button nose. Plump lips, dark eyes, black hair. Peasant girl. Not bad. But it was really the way she dressed which made her stick out in Pakhodai. Most local women wore long dresses of felted wool and colourful shawls and scarves, but not comrade Naira Tayva, whose garb looked more like a uniform. It was dark green - plain and without decoration. Jacket with matte brass buttons and a tall, starched collar, leather belt, and a modest knee-length skirt. Form fitting, yes, but fully within what was deemed acceptable. It was an austere outfit, yet one not without a certain elegance - Naira would have fit perfectly in one of the state's many in-depth manuals detailing the dress code and conduct of its agents. Naira was very particular in the regard, actually. The makeup was light and almost unnoticeable, and her black hair was kept in a conservative knot at the base of her skull with the help of a red ribbon. Topping off the image of the perfect representative of the OCPK was a small soft cap with a screen, stylishly placed atop Naira's head and sporting a red star of Kaitjan.
Now she sat slightly leaned forward in her chair, one leg crossed over the other and both hands deftly holding on to the hot cup. Her eyes wandered to the horizon again, and her shoulders lowered with a light sigh.
"It's a shame about the plane." The director said, watching her over the brim of his own cup. "But it's the weather. Long flight and the winds change quickly, and I heard that it was raining back in the foothills. Maybe they had to turn around."
"Do you know for sure?"
"No, sorry." He regretfully shook his head. "The radio has been messing with me lately. Signal's never been good, and now it's really beginning to give up one me."
"Really? Then you need to immediately order a new one." Naira said. "An airport can't function without a radio."
"I filled in the papers for one last month down in the Pala. The good people there told me they'd send it immediately with the next flight, but... hm, I haven't heard anything about it."
"For one month?" Naira raised a concerned eyebrow."
"Something like that. Three weeks, I think. Three and a half."
A tiny notebook and a pen hid in one of the pockets of Naira's jacket. After having put down the cup onto the ground she quickly flipped through to the last clean page and added a small note.
"I will take it up with the department." She said while writing. "I won't have this kind of neglect on my watch."
"Do you... think it will help?" Ogodei asked with a careful glance at the page.
"I will make sure it helps." Naira replied and returned the pen and notebook to their pocket. "This airport a strategic asset belonging to the People, comrade Udzen, and it is our duty not to fail them."
"Of course." He quickly agreed with a vigorous nod. "Of course not. Not fail the people, that is. We can't have that. Kyr Wanúr - scatter the ashes - wouldn't be happy if we did"
"Most honourable* comrade Kýr Wanúr." Naira smilingly corrected him. "When it comes to men like him we should use the proper title."
"My bad. I forget myself."
"We all do. Even the best of us."
They sat in silence for a while, drinking coffee and eyeing the sky. The sun was slowly closing to the mountains in the west, and snow-capped Mount Yar was veiling itself in misty clouds. Pakhodai basked in the last few hours of sunlight. The two bucks were bashing horns again. Naira held her cup as to shield her watch from the sun and squinted down at the 24 point star painted on the dial. The arms showed 19.15.
"Comrade director," she began as she tucked the watch in under her sleeve.
"Udzen is fine." Ogodei said. "Director..." he gave his head a little shake "Udzen is fine by me. Or Ogodei. I like both, really. I want to believe we know each other. If you don't mind, of course."
Naira did not hesitate for long, but she did hesitate. "Comrade Udzen, then. I need to know if the plane is coming today. Could you try to find out?"
"I can try - the radio still works, even if it isn't very good anymore. Can I ask, eh, are you in a hurry?"
"Somewhat." Naira replied. "If the plane isn't coming today then I need to get going back to Pala. I rather not drive in the dark."
"There's still a few hours of sun left."
"Still, I would want to know for certain. I have other duties to attend to."
"Of course you do. Sorry, I do forget myself." He rose from his chair, emptying his coffee cup in one quick go. "Time tends to flow differently up here, I hope you understand. Easy to lose track of it. Ah yes, the radio. I'll try to find out right now. Do you want to come inside? It's getting chilly, I think, and I would hate for you to catch a cold."
He was not wrong. The wind was unusually calm today, but Naira had noticed that the air was getting cooler. Walking around was fine, but sitting down - even if it was in the sun - could still get nippy. Naira's skirt was modest, sure, but it still left a considerable amount of leg bare. She smoothed out a crease in the dark fabric and got to her feet. Ogodei politely held the door open for her as she walked first into the terminal.
The bottom floor of the building was dominated by the waiting room. The decor was sparse in the extreme and consisted out of a couple of benches for travellers and some safety-promoting posters hung at random on the wall. The adjacent doors were marked with small signs, and one of them was partially open - revealing the rumbling fridge which served as the centrepiece of the cafe. The second floor was reserved for the airport staff and contained a lunchroom, the air tower (which was a room rather than a tower) and some storages. It was also Ogodei's apartment. The living room was quite spacious - especially by Pakhodai standards - and surprisingly cosy. Colourful tapestries of local design graced the barren walls, several thick rugs covered the floor and an aged TV and radio sat on a cupboard opposite the couch futon. At the centre of the room was a low floor table, surrounded by cushions.
"A bit of a mess, I suppose," Ogodei said, overlooking the room with a nervous scratch of the head. "I hope it isn't too bad... Oh, the cups, the cups -" he was about to reach for Naira's when he realized that it was still filled with coffee. "Sorry."
"I'll put in the kitchen when I'm done." She said. "I can take care of yours now."
Without waiting for an answer she took his mug and headed into the small kitchen. Ogodei remembered why they were upstairs and hurried to the radio room. Naira washed his cup off in the metal sink and put it next to it to dry. When done she walked over to one of the windows and scanned the northern horizon.
Still empty, still clear.
It was beginning to annoy her. Yes, the flights to Pakhodai were almost always late, but she had hoped that today they would - for once - be on time. The colleague back in Khogra had called the Pala Party headquarters as soon as he had made sure that the foreigner was safely aboard the 17.00 plane. Over the phone they had made sure to write down the details and exact time of the operation for the benefit of the Ministry of Foreign Interaction. When it came to foreign nationals one could never be too careful, and the departments charged with keeping track of them were pedantic in the extreme. Every hour the Prut was stuck in transit - even if it was aboard an airplane - was a blind spot which neither the paper pushers nor the security services approved of. It was supposed to work like clockwork; the colleague would handle all the documents in Khogra, make sure that the foreigner was safe, sound and harmless aboard the flight, where upon arrival he would come under Naira's jurisdiction and responsibility. Delays or change of plans due to unforeseen circumstances would mean more paperwork and much annoyance. Naira imagined the bureaucratic nightmare (not to mention the scandal) which would ensue if the plane crashed, shuddered and quickly pushed the thought away. It was better not to think about such things.
Next to the runway the goats had finally figured out their differences and returned to their grazing. Naira turned her head when she heard Ogodei approach.
"Can't seem to get a signal." He said with a guilty shrug. "I'm getting some other frequencies, but not the one I need. Ah, technology, I tell you, it never does what it's supposed to."
Naira sighed. What was she supposed to do now? Driving home in darkness on Pakhodai mountain roads was something she really wanted to avoid. She was a good driver, but not suicidal.
"Are you waiting for someone in particular?" Ogodei asked
"You could say that. It's an official visitor from far away."
"Tourist?"
Naira thought about it for a moment. "Something of that kind. A hunter, if I'm not wrong."
"A hunter? Don't get those very often. Not many leopards around here, and that's what the hunters usually wanted, isn't it?"
Naira just shrugged, busy as she was trying to figure out the best course of action. Nightfall was not far away, and no pilot would dare to land on Pakho Airport in the dark. She looked at her watch again and a small, annoyed wrinkle appeared by her mouth.
"I probably need to get going." She said.
"Already? There's still hope it'll come."
"Maybe. But as I said, I don't want to go back in the dark."
"That is true." The director said, and Naira could not help but notice the disappointment creeping onto his weathered face. "I'd not trust the roads either. They are fine for people, but cars, even cars like yours - they aren't made for them."
Naira nodded. "Thank you very much, comrade Udzen. For your time and the coffee."
"You are more than welcome - it's always an honour to have you here. But I would be a terrible host if I didn't offer some sort of meal. It's more than past the proper time. I was planning to eat now anyway."
If there is one thing which all peoples in Apisteftia have in common with each other, then it is the belief that hospitality is sacred. Failing to offer a guest food and refreshments is unforgivable, but it also means that refusing an invitation is an insult. Also, it so happens that isolated communities - and Pakhodai was home to one - can be quite old fashioned. So Naira agreed.
"If only very quickly."
"Quick it is!" Ogodei's face lit back up and he smiled again. "It won't take long. Please - sit, sit."
Again - hard to refuse. Naira's job was equal parts representing the OCPK and keeping the locals engaged and mindful of the nation which they were citizens of. It meant dinners, meals and countless cups of coffee and tea. An occupational hazard, really. So she sat down on the closest of the floor cushions, crossing her legs while carefully adjusting her skirt and placing her cap next to her.
"Do you mind music?" Ogodei asked, sticking his head out of the kitchen. "I do like some music in the evenings."
"Not at all."
The music cassette her host placed in the radio turned out to contain jazz. Kesh - while it had yet to become a district of the glorious People's Republic - had liked their jazz in addition to daily prayer and sacrifice. It had been long before Naira's birth, and she did not recognize the singer chanting to the tunes of the mellow saxophone.
"Do you like jazz, miss Tayva?" Ogodei asked from the kitchen.
"Comrade Tayva." She corrected him, calmly but sternly. "I don't mind it."
"I do love it. Back in the day - while I still served in the army, uh, before the Glorious Agreement, that is - I used to listen to it all the time. There were great artists back then. I have a nice collection."
"You do?"
It was all polite conversation. It came with the job. Ogodei made it easy, however - he liked to talk, and Naira did not blame him - the man had spent the last fifteen years on a lonely wind-haunted ridge with little in the way of company. She had known him for a while, but in the same way as she knew a lot of other people - as acquaintances she met in the line of work.
Ogodei was a good man, but as Naira finished her coffee she could not help but to wonder if he would try and keep her until it was too late to drive home. The thought was slightly amusing.
"... so I still managed to get my hands on the full collection of venerable Bakur Bo-Bahur." The Ogodei continued, speaking loudly to be heard over a sugary ballade. "It cost me my shirt, but I haven't regretted it yet. It's classic, his music. Oh, it reminds me -"
He peeked out of the doorway again with a bottle of something vaguely golden inside. "Brandy?"
Now this was getting too interesting for Naira's taste. "No thank you. I am driving."
"I hope you don't mind if I take a glass then?"
"As long as it is within reason, comrade."
"Within reason, of course. Reason is important."
Naira's eyes wandered over the tapestries on the wall until they hit one of the windows. The skies and mountains were beautiful, and the only thing ruining the tranquil painting was the moving black spot. Naira rose to her feet and walked over to the window to get a better look. At first, it had almost looked like a fly crawling over the glass, but the only flies she found were stone dead on the windowsill.
"Comrade Udzen?"
"Yes?"
"Can you take a look at this?"
He came out of the kitchen and joined Naira by the window. He squinted, muttered something to himself and grabbed the binoculars which hung from a nail on the wall.
"Uhh..." he drawled, adjusting the lenses. "Ah. It's a sparrow, I think. Yes, definitively a sparrow. Must be our plane."
He offered Naira the binoculars. With them, it was obvious that the dot was an aircraft, but she did not have the trained eye of the director.
"Two hours and forty-five minutes late." She remarked.
"Those pilots are hopeless. But..." Ogodei scratched his head. "I need to get the runway ready. Terribly sorry about supper, here I was promising and..."
"Don't worry." Naira politely interrupted. "It can wait for another time."
The I5 drew closer. Once again standing on the terminal porch Naira could begin to make out the details. The sparrow was a utility and transport aircraft; small, with an almost square fuselage and two propellers on its wing. It was painted bright yellow, with vehicle number and the falling comet of the venerable All-National Air Services of Kaitjan* painted in red on both sides of the nose. It made a funny sound as it flew - almost as something a very big sewing machine would do. A shouting Ogodei chased the goats away from the runway and, wildly flailing his hands, herded them towards their enclosed shack near the perimeter fence. Naira watched him give the last buck through the gate a smack on the rump to hurry it on before running back to the terminal himself. He was holding a walkie-talkie now, probably communicating to the pilot that he could go in for a goat-free landing. The sparrow made a wide circle around the ridge and began its descent.
It missed.
Instead of making touchdown it rushed past a pesky dozen metres above the runway, turning sharply upwards and to the side to avoid the big rock. Naira bit her lower lip. It would not look good if the foreigner ended up a charred corpse the first thing he did in her jurisdiction. The sparrow gained height and flew away, and for a short while it seemed as if he was going to return the way he had come. But at the other side of the valley it turned around, and with wings almost vertically placed it headed back towards the ridge. This time, after having straightened out, it began its descent several seconds earlier.
The rumble grew louder.
The gears bumped hard against the asphalt and the whole aircraft bounced, the impact throwing it back into the air. Then came touchdown. Brakes screeching the plane rushed down the runway.
It was going too fast. Far too fast, and straight for the big rock.
Naira could already imagine the scandal and steeled herself for the coming crash. But the sparrow, despite the odds stacked against it, prevailed. Jumping and bouncing as it went its speed changed from suicidal to dangerous and finally to merely quick. Air brakes flaring it came to a safe - if nerve-wracking - stop in front of the terminal. Naira felt an urge to clap, but the passengers probably already had all that covered. The propellers were still spinning when Ogodei rolled the boarding steps up to the aircraft's doors. Adjusting her cap Naira slowly headed towards it. It was time.
The door swung outwards and up, and the passengers began disembarking. There were not many of them, but that was nothing unusual. The primary purpose of the sparrow was the transportation of goods and equipment, and those who for one reason or another needed to get to the mountain valleys of Dzur Massif had to simply squeeze themselves in wherever there was an empty space. Naira herself, upon her arrival three years ago, had made the journey in-between a disassembled motorcycle and a crate's worth of history books.
"Welcome to Pakhodai!" Ogodei shouted over the sound of the engines. "Come out, come out; it's safe now. The ground isn't going anywhere. Oh, here we go-"
The bald little man who was first out the door was a shade of pale green, and needed to be grabbed by the director as to not trip and fall on his face. It was not the man Naira was waiting for - the poor sod was clearly a Keshi. Behind him came a young man in military garb, large rucksack and army cap in hand. Judging by the relative ease with which he disembarked and the joyous look he gave the surrounding mountains, he was probably a local - returning home from army service. Next were four surveyors - looking only slightly less shaky than the heaving baldy - who unloaded together with an arsenal's worth of climbing and measuring equipment. Both impatient and intrigued Naira bit her lip again.
And there he was - the mad foreigner. The one who had voluntarily put himself through a sea of paperwork and travelled to a remote backwater corner of Kaitjan; now laboriously squeezing his tall frame through the door while simultaneously trying to mind the stairs, his backpack and the crossbow slung over his shoulder. Pale, tall and round-eyed - it was a Prut. Couldn't be anyone else. Having made sure to look as professional as humanly possible Naira stepped forward to receive him.
"Good evening." She said in perfect school Low Prut. "On the behalf of the OCPK and our People's Republic, I want to welcome you to Pakhodai Valley."
