Pathways - Jeri Taylor [141]
But he soaked in the adulation of the illusory people. Massive crowds cheered him, their delirious gratitude transporting them into a mass rapture. They wouldn’t stop screaming their praise, couldn’t contain their adoration. For fourteen mythic days Morax was saturated in the bliss of his people.
That fantasy began to play itself out when he was ten or eleven, to be replaced by a fascination for weaponry. His household provided no role models for him in this intrigue: his father was a bookish man who found nightly entertainment in a game of Threx with his wife; his sisters were bright, studious girls who excelled in school and whose spare time seemed to be devoted to flirtatious games with young men.
No one cared about weapons.
Neelix’s interest was piqued when, in picking through the trash a wealthy family had discarded, he discovered an ancient energy weapon. It was big and clumsy, and had long ago ceased to function, but there was something about it— the heavy weight, solid in the hand, the spare, functional design—that appealed to Neelix. He carried it to his woodland hut and took it apart, carefully aligning each piece as he removed it, so he could put it together again.
He did that four or five times until he understood the principles of the particle-beam generator, and then he set about finding out how to repair it. He found old books which gave some rudimentary instruction in weapons repair and he studied them painstakingly. He realized there was only one way to activate the weapon he had found, and that was to procure some radiogenic isotopes.
How could a twelve-year-old get such a substance? What possible reason could he concoct to persuade someone to give him some? He had no doubt that if anyone suspected he was trying to create a working weapon, the uproar would be enough to bring his parents and perhaps the authorities to his hut, ending his secret world forever.
Alixia was his only hope. He found her one evening sitting by the stream that ran through their property, cooling herself in the warm summer night. Above them, the planet of Talax loomed huge, casting a brilliant light on the inhabitants of its moon.
“Alixia, I’ve been given an honors project in school. I need to find some radiogenic isotopes.” Alixia had just entered Level Ten School, and Neelix knew she might have access to the wealth of supplies this advanced institution provided.
Alixia looked up at him with immediate suspicion. “Radiogenic isotopes? Whatever could you be doing that would require a dangerous substance?”
“It’s for nuclear chemistry. I’m building a chargedparticle analyzer.”
“If it’s for class, won’t your instructor provide the necessary supplies?”
Neelix was ready for that one. “Part of the idea is that we have to build our projects from scratch, providing all the elements ourselves. It’s to develop self-reliance.”
That was a perfectly reasonable statement, which derived naturally from the Talaxian system of education, which fostered independent thinking and self-sufficiency. Alixia seemed to accept it. “I’m taking a laboratory course in bionuclear medicine. There might be some isotopes available. I’ll find out.”
Neelix’s spirits soared. He knew he could count on Alixia. And, sure enough, in a few days she gave him a small vial that was carefully wrapped in a protective batting. “Be careful,” she warned him. “It’s awfully volatile.”
He knew that, and felt proud that Alixia would trust him to handle it responsibly, even though it was dangerous and he was only twelve. Almost immediately, he was on his way through the woods.
The infusion of the isotopes into the prefire chamber of the energy weapon caused an amazing transformation. One minute he had an inert and useless piece of technology; the next he had a potent weapon which hummed with a pulsating power. Trembling with excitement, he stepped from his hut and into the clearing.
He had prepared his test firing carefully, constructing