At the hut he pulled up shy of the door to let his uncle off. But Uncle John didn’t get off the trailer. He couldn’t because he had been shot.
Jethro rushed to help him into the hut and laid him down and fetched a blanket for him. There was a lot of blood.
“I’ll get the first aid kit.”
Uncle grabbed his arm. “No time. Jethro. I need you to do something for me.”
“Uncle. You’re going to be OK. You’ll be on your feet in no time. You won’t need me to do it.”
Uncle was breathing heavily. Jethro fed him some Soy wine.
“That tastes good Jethro. Real good.” Uncle took another sip.
“I’m not going to make it Jethro.”
“Don’t talk like that uncle.”
Uncle grabbed Jethro’s hand and Jethro could feel it was cold and his grip was weak.
“Listen. Take this.” Uncle handed Jethro a small vial.
Uncle was looking pale even in the mist of the moor. Jethro poured more Soy wine down him.
Don’t die. Please don’t die.
“What’s this all about Uncle? Why are the military police trying to kill you?”
Uncle John took a deep breath. “Don’t tell this to your mother. Your father already knows most of it. OK?”
Jethro nodded.
“We made First Contact. But the aliens… They have some form of mind control. It affects Space Fleet. But it doesn’t appear to affect Space Marines yet.”
Jethro was too stunned to react. First Contact. Earth had finally met another sentient race. On Mars and on the Asteroid Belt nothing had been found, not even one-celled life-forms.
Uncle had a coughing fit and Jethro could see blood on the blanket. He fed him the last of the Soy wine.
“Jethro.’ He could barely talk.
“Drink it.” He pointed to the vial.
“What is it?”
“It should protect you from the mind control.”
“But I’m a farmer. Why me? And why doesn’t it affect Space Marines?”
“Drink it. Please.”
Jethro drank the contents of the vial. It was vile and there was no Soy wine left to wash it down.
“Your mother’s right about you.” Another coughing fit. More blood. Darker this time, almost black. “You’re too bloody inquisitive for your own good, and too bloody intelligent.”
Jethro helped him sit up in the hope it might ease the coughing.
“We think it’s the vaccinations that Space Marines have, to protect them on Asteroids. Space Pilots don’t get the same set of vaccinations because they deliver miners and Space Marines without leaving the ship.”
More coughing, much worse this time.
“Jethro. Tell your mum I love her, and your dad.” Uncle’s grip was almost non-existent now and Jethro could see that the blanket was covered in blood.
“You’ve turned out to be a bloody good young man. Your mum and dad are right to be proud of you. And I’m proud to have met you again.” He breathed slowly and raspily.
“Thanks Uncle.” Jethro felt Uncle squeeze his hand but it was more like the squeeze of a child than that of a grown man.
Jethro knew Uncle was about to die.
“Is there anybody I can tell about you?”
“No. There’s nobody. The military was my family, apart from you three. You three are the only family I ever had. Bury me on Comfort Farm. Please?”
“Yes Uncle.” Jethro choked on his words. He knew the exact spot, not far from the farmhouse so Mum and Dad could visit the grave.
“Jethro. Thanks for everything and bloody good luck. You’re going to…”
Colonel Baskerville died before he could complete the sentence.
Jethro remained with the dead body of his Uncle in the stone hut until the next morning. He didn’t get much sleep partly because he was thinking too much about what little he had learnt, and partly because somewhere on the moor a dog was howling and baying all night at the moon until the first few rosy fingers of dawn appeared over the horizon.
chapter 6
Jethro left Mum and Dad at the grave side. The twins, Alan and Martina, and their parents had come and paid their respects. The local vicar left in his horse and trap - he didn’t like hover things, he preferred to keep in contact with the ground.
Mum still crying, made her way back to the farmhouse to prepare lunch.
Jethro thought about following her to check she was going to be OK but Dad stopped him.
“Jethro. We need to talk.”
They waited until Mum had reached the farmhouse.
“Everything OK Dad?”
“I’ve never told you about my accident son.”
“No Dad.”
“I’m going to tell you about it now.”
What’s brought this on?
“Jethro. I used to be a Space Marine.”
What? Dad, a Space Marine?
“But you hate the military.”
“Not true. I hate war. I hated the war with Mars. The people on Mars are our friends and our relatives. I don’t know anybody except the bloody politicians who wanted war.”
He’s right there.
“The Colonel and I met when he became a training officer at Space Marines bootcamp at Britannia College in Dartmouth. He introduced me to your Mum.”
Was Dad an officer?
“I was a Gunny on the staff and your uncle and I became friends. We played together in the college rugby team. He was a First Lieutenant then. I met your Mum, we fell in love and got married. Later, before the war started I was drafted to a small outpost on the edge of the Arrakis desert on Mars.
“I used to race my hoverbike across the desert like you do across Dartmoor. One day I was racing across the desert, against another Space Marine and we got too close to each other. Showing off. We crashed and we weren’t found for two days. My oppo died and I lost my arm and my leg.”
“Oh no Dad. I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry son. It was my fault.”
“If you were military, why didn’t you get a decent cyber arm and cyber leg?”
“Because it was my fault. I pleaded guilty for a dishonourable discharge instead of a prison sentence. The military screwed me. I had nothing, except your Mum. Mum and I were helped by a charity to get the lease on this farm, because my parents were farmers in Wales.”
“So that’s why you help retired military, to become farmers?”
“I remember how hard it was for Mum and I when we started. We do what we can to help others.”
Wow.
“We’ve been saving our credits, and with a few more good harvests, we should have enough for a deposit on a mortgage for the farm.”
Now I get it. They’re buying the farm so they can pass it on to me.
Jethro and Dad started back to the farmhouse. Lunch would be ready soon. They walked in silence and stopped before the farmhouse.
“Dad. I’ve been thinking. I’ve decided I’m going to stay on at the farm.”
Dad smiled. “I always knew you were a great lad Jethro. But I’ve been thinking.”
“What about Dad?”
“I want you to join the Space Marines, as an officer.”
What?
“But what about the farm? You need me. How are you going to keep it running without me?”
“We’ll manage.” Dad took Jethro’s hand. “Next year I qualify for an upgrade to my arm and leg. After that I’ll be running around the moor like a gazelle. We can handle the farm without you Jethro.”
“But I can’t be an officer.”
“Why not?”
“I didn’t go to university.”
“So?”
“I’m not good enough to be an officer.”
“That’s not what your uncle told me.”
“What?”
“You don’t need to go to university to become an officer. If you’re good enough, they’ll want you. And both your uncle and I agree. You are good enough.”
Jethro didn’t know what to say. He had always wanted to be a Space Marine since he was a little kid. His bedroom was full of models of Space Marines, and he had read almost every Space Marine story right back to the days when they were classed as sci-fi. But he had never once considered becoming an officer. He wasn’t the type. People are born into the officer class. They go to the right schools and the best universities. They spend all their youth preparing to become an officer.
“What does Mum think?”
“She understands.”
“She hates it, right?”
Dad confirmed by not replying straight away. Looking for the right words. “She’s not keen Jethro. Especially after what your uncle told us.”
“What did he say?”
“Your uncle told us that some people high up in the military and politics think there’s going to be another war between Earth and Mars.”
“Why does he think that?”
“He says both the Earth and Mars governments are not happy with the Peace Treaty. They both think they’ve been screwed and should have got a better deal.”
“But nobody won the war.” Like all kids of the early twenty forties Jethro had learnt about the war at school. “I thought both sides ran out of money and the public got tired of being at war.”
“That’s true,” said Dad. “But there are those on both sides who believe they could have won the war.”
“If there’s another war, I’d have thought the last thing you’d want me to do was join the military.”
“That’s also true. But there’s more. There’s First Contact and there’s the vial. Your uncle told me about it.”
“About the vial Dad. He didn’t explain it to me. He gave it to me when he was… dying.” Jethro found it hard to say the word.
“But you did drink it?”
“Yes dad. I drank it.”
Dad sighed. “If what your uncle says is true. The possible threat of aliens is going to dwarf any threat of a war between us and Mars.”
Mum put her head out of the back door of the farmhouse. “You two. Lunch is ready.”
“We’d better go in. You know what your Mum’s like once she’s put food on the table.”
Jethro nodded. She took it as a personal affront if they weren’t ready able and willing to polish everything off. Not that it was a chore, because she was an amazing cook.
For lunch they had leftover lamb slices, an array of fresh salad vegetables grown at the farm, and freshly baked bread, which Mum had put in the Bread Machine when she got up that morning. The smell in the kitchen was amazing. There was only small talk at the table because Mum was still feeling bad after the funeral.
After they had finished Jethro started to clear the plates.
“I’ll do that Jethro,” Mum said.
“It’s OK Mum you sit down and have a rest, I’ll do it.
“I don’t want to sit down. I want to do something.”
“Jethro,” Dad intervened. “You were going to show me that new mod you fitted onto the Harvesting Machine.”
“Was I?” Then Jethro saw the expression on Dad’s face. “Oh that one. We can go and look at it now if you like.”
Dad got up from the table and went to the door. Jethro gave Mum a hug and followed him out of the door into the yard.
“Mum needs a bit of time on her own Jethro.”
They entered the sheds, stopping in the area where Jethro parked the Harvesting Machine a couple of days ago, after he serviced it.
“Did uncle tell you why he wanted me to drink the vial Dad? He… passed… before he could tell me why I had to drink it.”
“Yes he did.” Dad sat on a wooden bench. “He was Head of Security with the party that met the aliens for the first time.”
“You mean when he made First Contact? Wow. That must have been amazing. What did he say about it? What were they like? Where did he meet them?”
“Stop. He didn’t tell me any of those things.” Dad took a couple of breaths. “He was going to but…”
“Sorry Dad.”
“But he did tell me a bit about the vial. When you took him to the Boar’s Head, he was going to deliver the vial to a contact, who was going to take it to a facility to produce a vaccination for the military.”
“So what was in it?”
“Slow down. I’m getting there.” Dad stood up and idly kicked at a tyre of the Harvesting Machine with his real foot. “When they met the aliens, they discovered that at least one of the aliens was able to get inside some of their minds. They can’t be sure, but it’s even possible the alien was able to control one of our troops through his mind. Imagine how powerful that could be in a war.”
“Bloody hell. Sorry dad.”
“Don’t worry son I agree with you. Anyway, some of the party weren’t affected as much. The theory was that it could be related to the cocktail of drugs Space Marines take to protect them from potential bugs. A doctor on board the ship created the contents of the vial and tested it at a second meeting with the aliens. It appeared to work.” Dad sat down again on a sack of Soybeans.
“Unfortunately the ship was attacked on its way back to Earth and only your uncle managed to escape in a survival pod.”
“Who attacked the ship?” Jethro stood up to use his arms to accentuate the questions he was asking. “Why were the military police chasing after him? He hadn’t done anything wrong.”
“We don’t know the answer to either of those questions. The aliens could have attacked the ship and they could have somehow gained control of those military police.”
“Oh no.”
“The other possibility is that either Mars or Earth attacked the ship to prevent it from landing.”
“That’s stupid. Why would Mars attack the ship? Or why would Earth attack our own ship?”
Dad looked Jethro straight in the face. “Some on Earth don’t believe First Contact took place. They are highly suspicious of anything they don’t understand. They think it’s a ruse, to cover up the start of the next war. Shoot first and ask questions after.”
Jethro had a thousand questions racing around inside his head but he knew Dad probably couldn’t answer them.
“Jethro. If aliens attack the Earth and Mars, it would be far more terrible than any war between us. Millions could die. Everyone will be involved.”
Dad’s right. If he is right.
“Your Mum and I would love for you to stay at the farm. If you join the Space Marines you will be front and centre and involved. But if you stay on the farm you will be insufferable.”
He’s got that right.
“But why an officer?”
“Because you’re good Jethro. Your Mum and I have seen that in you since you were born. Your uncle saw that when you saved him. And because officers get to make decisions and don’t have to put up with the shit caused by the decisions that officers get to make.”
I wish I felt as good as good as you’re making me out to be.
“I’m not good enough to be an officer Dad. I’m only a farmer.”
“Trust me Jethro. You are good enough. The Space Marines will be lucky to have you. And there’s nothing “only” about being a farmer. Just remember Jethro. Whatever you do, wherever you go, you’ll always be a farmer.”
chapter 7
Jethro didn’t own a suit and had to borrow Dad’s only suit for the Space Marine Interview Board, a rigorous two day selection process for officer training in the Space Marine Corps. In the breakout area for the Space Marines and Space Fleet officer corps selection, there was a noisy conversation taking place between a group of the candidates.
“No. The new Smith and Wesson Laser Assault rifle Mark 4B has got infra-red targeting.”
“But I thought that was no good in the desert.”
“It wasn’t but they’ve improved it and now it works fine…”
“Have you seen the new Onesie camouflage suit?”
“No. What’s so good about it?”
“I
t has RDC, reactive detector capability. The suit adapts its camouflage to the terrain around it.”
“I saw that on the film Marvel 217. I didn’t realise it was for real.”
“I heard the writer of the film was taken to court for stealing military secrets.”
“He was, but he claimed he invented it in a book he wrote. It came out that the military design labs had copies of the book.”
There was another group of three candidates sitting to one side not taking part in the conversation. A young man from the group approached Jethro.
“Hi, my name’s Conrad.”
Jethro took his hand and shook it. “I’m Jethro.”
“Do you want to come over and sit with us?”
Jethro was happy get away from the talk of equipment and other things he had never heard of.
“This is Bronte, my little sister. She’s going for the Space Marines.”
Jethro was tongue tied. He offered his hand and she rose and shook it. She had a cold hand and a wicked smile.
Wow.
“And this is Brad. He’s trying for Space Marines also.”
Jethro offered his hand but Brad didn’t move.
“Don’t worry Jethro he doesn’t bite.”
Jethro wasn’t convinced.
“I’m trying out for Space Fleet.” Conrad sat down.
“I’m Jethro. Going for the Space Marines.”
“What’s your alma mater Jethro?” asked Bronte.
“My what?”
“University?”
“I didn’t go to university. I’m a farmer.”
“A fucking farmer,” Brad laughed. “Well farm boy there are only two places for Space Marines officer left for this intake and Bronte and my names are already pencilled in. You might as well go back to your muck and your mud.”
Don’t do it Jethro.
He unclenched his fists.
“Brad. Don’t be so rude.” Bronte admonished him. “Jethro what do you farm?”
“Soy Bean and sheep.”
“And where’s the farm?”
“Dartmoor. We graze our sheep on the moor.”
“Lucky you. Our dad is thinking of buying a farm up in Scotland when he retires, so we can keep animals.”
Jethro was gaining in courage whilst he talked to her. “What does he do now?”
Red Dust of Mars Page 3
