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  Two weeks earlier John Taylor had been granted another opportunity to present his request to the Council, a loosely organized governing body for the Irving Sector. The camps and forts within a fifty-mile radius around Red River Airport acknowledged the Council as the authority on trade, science and security. All the major influences in public life had their representatives at the infrequent and quite informal meetings. Harry ‘Dawg-Ears’, one of the Marshalls of the Rockwall Security Gang had invited Taylor, “Just come over to the Airport Motel Friday night ‘round eight, we’ll hear you out. ‘Ts gonna be fun.”

  When Taylor opened the door to the old ballroom at the motel he could hear a heated discussion about the cost and efficiency of garbage collection and transport, which was always a favorite subject for everyone to get warmed up and reacquainted. There was much hollering and laughing and poking fun at each other. Harry spotted Taylor at the door and shouted across the room, “Get over here Taylor. I’ll shut them up so you can have your say.” With that he stood up and let out a loud high pitched whistle which got him the attention of the Council long enough to motion everyone to settle down a bit.

  “Most of you know our friend John Taylor” Dawg-Ears barked, “but for the few new faces, he is our resident chief pilot and a whizz with a wrench when it comes to getting airplanes back into the air. He would like to present his pet project, which we regrettably had to reject a few times in the past because of security and resource concerns. Times have changed though, so I wish him more luck for his quest today. John, my friend, they are all yours.”

  Taylor stood up and cleared his throat. He was a bit hesitant to petition a large crowd of people on his own behalf but this was his chance and he was not going to miss it.

  “Good evening,” Taylor addressed the Council, “thank you for giving me your time to present a request that is very dear to my heart. My name is John Taylor. Many of you know me as we had various business dealings over the years, but I also see a number of new delegates in the room tonight. It’s been a while since I last made my case so I will take the opportunity and start from the beginning if you all don’t mind.”

  There were grunts and murmur of agreement from all around, so Taylor continued, “About two years ago we got a shipment of a few small airplanes from our friends in acquisition that were in questionable state of repair. We still thought they could be brought back into flying condition so I started to search the Central Library for technical data on the planes and for any registry or logbook information I could find. While I was knee deep in old records dating back more than fifty years, I stumbled across a few unrelated news files that grabbed my attention.”

  “I saw reports of people who had traveled from up north and crossed the presumably deserted mountain regions of Sector XXI. They referred to the area by its old name, the Ozark Mountains of Arkansas. As far as I know that area had been evacuated and abandoned in the early stages of the war over two hundred years ago just like many other sparsely populated areas that were too difficult to secure against raiders or to provide with energy and supplies. Right in the middle of this assumed no-man’s land they came across a small population of people who seemed completely unaware of and uninvolved with the war. Now, it is not unheard of that there are pockets of outsiders camping out in the woods to get away from trouble for a while but these people seemed to have been there isolated ever since shortly after the war had started.”

  Taylor was getting more comfortable and animated as he got deeper into the matter that had occupied his mind for the last few years.

  “What really grabbed my attention were the media files that were linked to the news stories. I saw stillholos and holovids that showed healthy and laughing folks going about mostly agricultural or artistic activities. Many of them worked in the fields bringing in crops or tending to live stock. Close-ups of plants and fruit showed healthy vegetation and rich yields. I could not detect any genetic degeneration or defects in either plants or animals.”

  “I guess I don’t have to stress the difficulty we are having in getting our farming and food supply ramped up. Decades of ruthless exploitation and abusive genetic experiments have left the DNA pool of our native and cultural vegetation and of our live stock depleted and in need of replenishment.”

  Taylor paused for effect before he made an effort to drive his point home.

  “I believe that we can find much needed healthy and unaltered DNA in Sector XXI which we can use to revitalize our own growing efforts. I want to go to the Ozark and have a look for myself. All I am asking for is a full tank of gas for my airplane and maybe two or three weeks of Safe Passage Certificates. I’ll be happy to answer any question you might have,” Taylor finished his short speech.

  There was a short moment of silence before whispering and murmurs started all over the room, as several delegates seemed interested to learn more.

  “How do you intend to bring back DNA if you happen to find something there?” It was a good sign that Paul Meyers, the Rep from the research labs started to ask practical questions.

  Taylor was prepared for this, “Well, since you asked Paul, I was hoping to borrow a hand-held DNA scanner from your lab if you don’t mind.”

  “No way,” Meyers replied, “these things are tricky to operate, very expensive and hard to come by. Our lab covers the area from the Red River down to half the Hill Country and we only have three scanners in working order. If you want a scanner you will have to take along one of my boys to make sure you bring back something useful. You will need the help of an expert anyway to select samples and get a good spread of data. One of my associates, Tim Farmer, would certainly jump at the chance to get out of here for a while, he’s bright and a good kid.”

  As much as Taylor disliked the idea to bring along passengers on this trip, the fact that they were discussing specifics gave him hope for his cause, and Meyers had a point about the sample selection and correct operation of the scanner.

  “How do you know that the reports and images were not fabrications for propaganda?” one of the delegates asked.

  “I don’t really, but the reports seemed too unrelated and infrequent to have any propaganda benefit and the images and holovids were not clean and polished enough to be the works of the generals. We all remember their handiwork and it just did not seem to fit in with that.” Taylor knew that he was banking on his reputation for having his head screwed on the right way but for right now this was all he had.

  “Did you get in contact with any of the eyewitnesses from back then?” the questions started to come from all over the assembly.

  “I did track down registration data from a few of the names mentioned in the reports but all of them seemed to have vanished shortly after they had published their stories,” Taylor replied, “I could not find any data trace even from a few years later.”

  “How much do we know about the security status in Sector XXI?” the thin voice of self-proclaimed intelligence officer Mark Shiner pierced through the upcoming murmur.

  Harry ‘Dawg-Ears’ burst out in laughter. “Wouldn’t this be your expertise, Mr. Intelligence?” he teased. It was quite apparent that he did not have much confidence in Shiner’s capabilities.

  “Yes, it would,” Shiner hissed back, “but the thing is that Sector XXI is so far off any priority chart that even my office has practically no knowledge about its status.”

  “I’m afraid,” he continued with a wicked smile, “I can only give my blessing for your little camping trip if you take one of my junior officers along. We need every bit of intelligence we can gather if there really is a population present in the mountains. We know nothing about them so we need a trained resource on site to assess any possible security threat especially if you happen to bring back genetic data.”

  Taylor’s head was spinning. He did not want to seem like a petulant child but the idea of carrying another passenger, especially one who he would consider a spy did not sit well with him at all.
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  “My plane can only carry a very limited payload,” he started to complain when Harry tugged on his arm and whispered, “What are you doing Taylor? You did realize that there were to be some stipulations tied to this deal, right? They are almost ready to give you a green light. Shut up and let me handle this.”

  He got up from his chair and commanded silence with a loud grunt, “I think we’ve heard enough. The seize fire seems stable enough that we can do without a few resources for some time. I’d say we let Taylor try his luck. Maybe there’s a better future in it for all of us. Who’s with me?” Cheering and whistling of agreement filled the room, so Harry continued, “John, you take Farmer and the junior spy with you, put them to work and it will not be a waste. Shiner will issue the passports to his officer. You know where to get your fuel and supplies. Don’t make me look like a fool. Good luck!”

  That was it. No more words were necessary. The noise level in the assembly rose dramatically as everyone started discussing various matters at the same time.

  Taylor turned to Harry and grabbed his arm, “Thank you, you won’t regret this.”

  Later that night Cody Hunt held his sides from laughing. He was a simple character, at least if one judged him by his live-out-loud antics and his direct and uninhibited reactions to his surroundings.

  “The Council finally lost their minds!” he blurted out when Taylor told him the outcome of his latest petition. “You are really going on this trip, aren’t you? I bet you just made up all of this to get out of this rat infested hellhole on the Council’s dime, and who can blame you? You are a genius, John, no two ways about it.” He slapped Taylor on the back, almost knocking him over.

  “You gonna have to take me too,” he insisted, “No way I’ll let you go on this adventure alone. Who’s gonna watch your back if your ‘specialists’ turn on you or on each other. I’m coming with you.” It was clear that he would not take ‘no’ for an answer.