Chapter Twelve: Ground Underfoot

Jonathan sat stock still, hardely breathing in the pilots chair. It had been about five minutes since the three Idealists had closed their eyes. It seemed as if they were not breathing, they were in such deep concentration. Jonathan knew that he shouldn't wake them, but it was agains all natural inclination he had to sit there and watch them put themselves in comas. It seemed dangerous. He was tempted to check them for a pulse.
But, he payed heed to Captain Fortworth's warnings. It seemed odd that the man should so suddenly seem to change opinions about Jonathan. It didn't seem in Captain Fortworth's nature to be so cold towards him. Yet, the fact remained, there seemed to be a definite amount of calousness directed towards Jonathan.
The ship was deathly quite. It very unnerving. When he heard a large crash from the rear of the ship, Jonathan jumped.
Helen hadn't described any machinery that was supposed to make that kind of noise. Jonathan knew that he'd have to check out the situation. Stepping lightly through the cockpit, he exited to the forward loung and began searching for the source of the offending noise.
He heard voices coming from the cargo hold. That didn't make any sense to him, there should only have been four people on board. He crouched down by the hatch and leaned over it, ready to lock it, if need be. Before anything else happened though, the hatch came swinging upwards and hit him in the face, knocking him backwards.
A woman in dark, ragged clothes slithered out of the hole in the floor and pulled a weapon out of a holster and leveled it at Jonathan. A man soon pulled himself up from the cargo hold.
"Check the cabins and the cockpit," the woman whispered. Jonathan was having trouble focusing, he could see the actions going on around him, but he could not focus on what they meant.
In less than a minute, the man walked back into the room and said "They're already in the trance." He had a large gun slung over one shoulder and walked with ease around the ship, like he was familiar with the surroundings. He appeared to be on the wrong wide of sixty, but was still fit. His hair was grey and his face wrinkled, but not unkind.
"Thank God," the woman said.
"How is he?" the man asked, gesturing towards Jonathan.
"I think he took a hit on the noggin when I opened the hatch. He should be fine."
"Who are you?" Jonathan groaned from the floor.
"I'm sure you've heard of us," The woman said. "Now, get up. Where is this ship headed?"
"I'm not sure," Jonathan replied as he came up to a sitting position.
"Bullshit." The man muttered. "You're, what the second in command here?"
"I'm an Initiate." Jonathan answerd. "It's my first day with the Commission."
"Not likely," the man said, leveling the brutal looking gun at Jonathan. "An initiate at your age? I spent fourty years with the commission, and not once did I meet an Initiate your age."
"Take us forward and introduce us to your crew," The woman said sarcastically. When Jonathan didn;t respond, she jabbed him with her weapon and said "Lets go."
When in the cockpit, they demanded the names of the crew. Jonathan didn't want cause any problems, so he provided the names of his crew-mates.
"Do you think you can handle the reprograming?" The man asked the woman.
"Sure," she said. "Wouldn't be the first time." Almost imediately, she began speaking in low, soothing tones to the crew members, describing to them over and over again a new destination, using their names many times.
The man led Jonathan to the aft lounge. "Who are you?" he asked bluntly
Jonathan, feeling no ties to the Idealist, saw no point in lying to the man. "My name is Jonathan Brooke. I'm from Earth."
This statement made the man raise his eyebrows, but did not warrant the same kind if reaction Jonathan had seen thus far. He continued "I was thrown off course during a faster than light trip from Earth to Sigma." It the next few minutes, Jonathan recounted his story. The man did not interupt once, just stood quietly listening.
"I hold no allegiance to these people. Although they have been very kind, they are responsible for keeping me away from my home. All I want to do is find some sort of way back to where I belong."
The man stood mute for a second, and then said very carefully and diliberatly "This is the ship that picked you up on your cast away planet?"
"Yes" jonathan replied.
"And you expect more people from Earth to be at your planetsome time soon?"
"Yes"
"And even if they don't show up, you could still provide the telemetry that would give us Earth co-ordinates?"
"Yes. Why?"
"I expect it will all become clear to you very soon." The man said.
"That's one of the only things that I have been able to ascertain since my arriving in this culture. Who are you?" Jonathan asked.
"Me? Oh, I'm just an old captain that's tired of the same problems keeping the colonies from having what they should."
"Whats that?" Jonathan asked.
"Well, first and foremost, access to their homeland. Earth. The location of that planet has been one of the closest gaurded secrets of the Elders of the Jones family for the last millenium."
"Why would they keep the location of Earth secret?"
"Nobody really knows." The man replied. "You seem the reasonable sort. You're sure you're not an idealist?"
"Quite frankly mister," jonathan replied, "I can't understand the shit."
"I like you, son. The name's Grinder. James Grinder." The man offered a hand.
"Hey - wait a minute. The kid up in the front, andy. he told me a story about a Captain Grinder..." Jonathan said as he took the hand.
"Yeah," Grinder sighed. "That'd be me. The famous exploit of the Bush-Gunderson conflict, right?"
"That'd be the one."
"I'm petty famous for that one. A decorated hero. And all because some innocent colonist were trying to protect themselves from an illegal invasion in the guise of humanitarian aide. It was my last mission with the Commission. I stopped serving them more'n ten years ago. They system just got to convoluted - too corrupted."
"Your society looked so clean and upstanding." jonathan observed.
"You'd think it's a regualr utopia is you were just visiting. All the trouble is hidden by slight of hand and government secrets. I'm willing to bet most of the poeple back in Port Orpheus don't even know thay are at war. Oh, and I'm not an idealist anymore, son."
"At war? With whom?"
Grinder chuckled. "Why, with me, of course!"