Renegade on Kara The Great Basin Chapter 4 The Confederation

Going on the run from spell casting AIs, dragons and a nearly all powerful state isn't easy, even on a world with an infinite surface.

Someone pulled the lid back up.

Panic flashed for a moment.

People might think they are prepared for the discontinuity, never are. You might know time stops and someone is going to be opening it, yet there for an instant, you are surprised. Roger had read that several times, yet it was different experiencing it.

Yet he had made it. Even what the lid still rising, he knew he was not in any technology zone.

Then the heat hit, and he could only be in the Great Basin, that geographic abnormality that was as yet the hottest place ever found on Kara. He had made it. He was through the Armstrong gate.

“What the hell is going on?”

Roger looked up at the weathered brown man his mage sense told him was little older than he.

 “What do you mean, what is going on? It was your rules. I could not keep my stuff with me unless I agreed to be shipped in one of these damn containers after custom inspected my stuff. They wanted to ship us separately. I wasn’t about to risk coming here with nothing. Where is my supervisor? He is supposed to be the one opening it.” Basic distraction techniques, answer such things with more questions and accusation.

“I never heard of any such rule, and your supervisor isn’t here.” Cold anger seeping into the legionnaire’s voice, “No one marked this one as full. It was in the warehouse. There is no telling how long you were in it. Serves you right if it was a long time. I am in a rush. That is immigration over there. I have to have thirty containers ready for use in two hours. Confederation rescued more Asgro, and we are sending them to NewGate. Climb out of there and get out of my way.”

Roger stood, and the man helped him out.

His voice softened. “You need to talk to immigration. They can find out who screwed up and when. There is going to be hell to pay when they find out they shipped someone in an unflagged container, and no papers filed.”

Roger’s face froze. The man was in a Confederation Legionnaire’s uniform. That could be real trouble.

“When did you have yourself shipped?”

“1038 NewGate.” The moment he said it he knew he should have lied.

“31 years ago, then. It could be worse.”

“Fuck. My family must think I am dead.” With any luck, the search had been called off long since. Roger kept up the pretense. “Why didn’t they look for me?”

“I don’t know, kid. But I have a lot to do and little time to do it. Go over to immigration and ask.” He pointed down a street. “It is six four blocks that way on the corner, has a big sign over the door.”

Roger reached into the pocket of his backpack and pulled out his goggles.

“Good idea kid, when you get down there, you will see the immigration sign. There might not be anyone inside. If not, head to the center of camp and talk to the Officer of the Day.”

Roger noticed was this man wasn’t offering to help make sure he got the right place, for which he was very grateful. Wearing the goggles, Roger could see the massive camp wall beyond the building he was being pointed to. He picked up his backpack and headed that direction, saying, “Will do.”

The immigration office door was open, and someone sat at its desk. Roger kept walking as if he had some place to be and rounded the corner, and froze in terror. The gate though the wall, was only twenty-five meters away but sitting in a mule-drawn wagon was a three-meter tall, massive bear.

Every instinct Roger had said run.