by G J Ogden
“At least we know that Colicos was here,” Sterling continued, also shaking water from the joints of his armor. “That’s a lot more than we knew a few minutes ago.”
“Assuming it was Colicos’ shuttle and not some other random transport,” Banks replied.
“That’s a possibility,” Sterling admitted, while inspecting the dilapidated corridor of the accommodation block more closely. “But I don’t think anyone would ever come here unless they didn’t have a choice.”
Sterling continued to lead the way, following the two colonists up the steep flights of stairs to the upper levels of the accommodation block. Due to their various bumps and bruises, plus the extra bulk of their armor, progress was slow. Eventually, they reached the seventh floor of the building and Sterling saw that a door had been left propped open for them. He pushed through it, feeling breathless and exhausted and was greeted with the smell of food. Moving further inside, Sterling was amazed to see that the entire floor had been transformed. Instead of multiple apartment blocks, the colonists had knocked through walls and created a number of larger communal areas, including a large kitchen and dining space. Sterling headed toward it, noticing that the colonists were using solid-fuel burners and actually cooking food on stoves that looked custom built. Sterling had spent most of his life eating Fleet meal trays. The sight of an actual kitchen was as compelling to him as he imaged the sight of a starship would be to someone who had never been to space.
“Captain, might I suggest I hang back and cover you from the communal area?” said Lieutenant Shade stopping beside Sterling. The long climb up the narrow flights of stairs had opened the wound in her leg and blood was again trickling through the cracked armor. “It will also allow me to tend to my injuries.”
Sterling could see that Shade was hurt, though neither her expression nor her voice gave away the fact she must have been in pain.
“Understood, Lieutenant,” replied Sterling. “Co-ordinate with the ship and see when they’ll be able to land a shuttle on the roof of this building. I have no intention of walking back to the ship with those things prowling outside.”
“Aye, sir,” Shade replied. She then began to limp toward the communal area, though she didn’t take her eyes off Sterling and Banks for a moment.
Shade dropped into a seat then rested her rifle across her lap before removing the med kit from her armor. Sterling watched as a group of children went up to her, curious to learn what she was doing, but then quickly scattered as his weapons officer stared at them with her unflinching eyes. However, none of the children went far and simply hid behind various items of furniture, continuing to observe the surly-looking officer with intense interest.
“I must admit, this setup is pretty impressive,” said Banks, peering around the space. “They’ve modified the ducting system to vent the fumes from the cooking and heating stoves, as well as distribute heat around the floors. And it looks like they’ve engineered a rainwater tap over by the wall there,” she added, pointing across to the cooking area. “They’ve adapted this entire building into a survival shelter. I doubt they’d ever need to leave it, other than to gather supplies.”
Sterling nodded. In an age where everything he ever touched was made by a machine, he couldn’t deny that the colonist’s ingenuity was remarkable. He then noticed that Banks was smiling and frowned back at her.
“What are you plotting in that head of yours, Commander?” Sterling said, starting to feel a little self-conscious.
Banks nodded over to the kitchen area. “I thought I might sample the local cuisine,” she said, still smiling. “I might be able to gather some intel from the other diners while I’m over there.”
Sterling huffed a laugh. “You want to go eat just so you can gather intel, is that what you’re telling me?” he said, shaking his head. However, Banks just smiled innocently and shrugged in reply. Sterling then saw Landry - the woman who had met them on the ground floor - approaching from out of one the enclosed rooms further into the space. “Hold that thought,” Sterling said to Banks, as the woman came closer, holding out a thin sheet of material.
“Here, I made a list while you were taking a lifetime to make your way up here,” said Landry. Sterling took the thin sheet, but the material just flopped around his glove, like a piece of fabric. “Our PDAs stopped working years ago too, like most things electronic in this place,” the woman said, scowling at Sterling. “We make parchment from the pulp of a tree that grows locally. One of the other colonists managed to get a recipe for ink from our offline database, before the computers also lost power.”
“Let me guess, because your generator packed in, right?” said Sterling, straightening out the piece of parchment with his other hand and ripping it in the process. The woman tutted loudly then folded her arms and waited for Sterling to read the items on the list. The menu of requests was extensive and unreasonable, but Sterling was careful not to show his concern. He needed to keep the colonist on-side.
“Commander Banks will make arrangements to have these items shipped over, once the storm lifts in a few hours,” Sterling added, folding the note in half and handing it to his first officer. Banks took the parchment and read the items on it, her eyebrows rising further up her forehead as she progressed through the list. However, she had the wherewithal not to openly balk at its content. “Now, what can you tell me about the shuttle and the information concerning James Colicos?” he added, getting to the crux of why he was there.
The woman scowled then pointed toward the corner of the room, where the dining area had been laid out. An old man was sitting alone at one of the smaller tables, eating a bowl of stew.
“This shuttle you’re so interested in landed by the generator house,” the woman went on. “Whoever was flying it broke in and stole all the goddam fuel, which is why we’re living like cavemen.” The anger and bitterness flowed out of Landry without restraint. “Four of my people were killed trying to stop those filthy, no-good thieves.”
Sterling frowned. “So, how does he fit in to this?” he asked, nodding over to the old man.
“He was on his way back from the hills and passed near the generator house when it happened,” Landry replied, scowling at the man. “He was supposed to be out foraging, but that old fool hasn’t done a day of honest work for years. He just sits in the corner, eating our food.” Then the woman took a couple of deeper breaths, presumably to calm the anger that the older colonist inspired in her. “Since that shuttle arrived, he just talks crazy about a speaking alien and a man with a secret mission,” the woman went on, now meeting Sterling’s eyes. “I don’t think you’ll get much sense of out him, but he’s the only one still alive who saw that shuttle up close. It was gone before anyone else arrived.”
Sterling nodded then the woman departed, joining a group of people in the communal area. Sterling noticed that all eyes were on them and realized that their sudden arrival and armor-clad appearance was probably quite unsettling. He noticed that Lieutenant Shade had casually moved her chair into a darker corner of the room. She was stitching up the wound to her leg, but the rifle was still resting across her lap and Sterling could see her eyes frequently flick over to his location.
“We’re not really giving them all this, right?” asked Banks, holding up the parchment.
“Unless this old coot has something revelatory to say, I’m not giving them a damn thing,” Sterling replied, in a manner that left Banks in no doubt as to his sincerity. Sterling hooked a thumb over to the man. “I’ll talk to him alone. It will be less intimidating that way.”
“Good idea, I’ll get some supper while I’m waiting,” his first officer replied, smiling again.
“Just make sure you leave some for everyone else,” Sterling said to Banks as she departed. “And watch my back…”
Sterling set off in the direction of the old man, who had been watching him carefully out of the corner of his eye as he approached the dining area. Then, as it became clear that Sterling was heading toward hi
m specifically, the man became suddenly excited.
“You’ve come looking for the others, haven’t you?” the man said. He was perhaps in his late seventies, but still appeared active and unencumbered by his advanced years. “I told them others would come,” the man continued, his voice growing louder as his excitement built. “I told them, but they wouldn’t listen.”
“Shut up, you crazy old bastard,” a younger man from a nearby table called over. Four others on the table with him laughed then one of them flicked a crumb from the table, which struck the older man on the face.
“You’ll see, Lars!” the man yelled back, shaking his fist at the younger man as he laughed, cruelly. “You’ll see that I was right!”
Sterling held up his hand to get the older man’s attention then glowered at the table of troublemakers. Despite his armor and the plasma rifle slung over his shoulder, the younger colonists did not appear intimidated by him.
“Tell me about this shuttle,” Sterling said, managing to grab the attention of the older man again. “Did you speak to whoever was on board?”
“Yes, yes!” the man replied, the excitement again causing the volume of his voice to increase. “There were two of them. An impressive older gentleman and a Sa’Nerran warrior,” the man went on.
“There was no goddam Sa’Nerran, you crazy old fool,” the man who had been identified as Lars yelled from the table next to them. “How long are you going to keep this crap up? It was just one man that you were too chicken-shit to stop from stealing our stuff.”
The older man’s chair screeched back across the floor and he shot up, stabbing his finger at Lars. “Lies, lies!” the older man yelled at the table. “I was there! Where were you? Where!? You’re the chicken shit here, not me!”
Enraged, Lars shot out of his chair and shoved the older colonist in the chest, knocking him back into his chair. Moments later the other four diners at the table also pushed back their chairs and stood behind Lars.
“Hey, take it easy, this doesn’t concern you,” said Sterling, looking up at Lars and the other colonists from his seat.
“This doesn’t concern us?” Lars spat back, jabbing a finger into his chest. “You don’t belong here, Fleet,” the man continued, now pointing his finger at Sterling like it were the barrel of a gun. “Nothing that happens here concerns you. So, why don’t you get lost before I feed you and your friends to those things outside?”
Shade and Banks both rose from their seats. Banks had been mid-way through a bowl of stew, but now had her hand clasped around the handle of a cutlery knife. Shade had finished stitching up her leg and had her rifle back in her hands. However, the weapons officer had exercised enough restraint to avoid aiming it at the colonist.
“Lars, sit your ass down and let the man talk,” Landry called over from the communal area. She was still seated and appeared unconcerned by the younger man’s actions.
Lars’ eyes narrowed at the older woman, but he did as he was asked. The rest of the group followed, though all of them turned their seats to face the old man. Sterling now had an audience.
“Go on then, old man,” Lars said, reclining back in his seat with his legs pushed out in front of him. “Tell him your crazy story. I could do with a good laugh.”
The rest of the group again joined in with a round of jeers, but the old man was undeterred. Sterling imagined that it wasn’t the first time the story had inspired ire and derision from the inhabitants of Thrace Colony. Ignoring the others as best he could, Sterling turned back to the older man and waited patiently for him to continue.
“The man, the human, he was the alien’s prisoner,” the old colonist continued. “The warrior killed the people from the colony who came to investigate then forced the man to carry supplies from the warehouse.” He wet his lips and leant in closer to Sterling. “The alien, it actually spoke to the man.” There was a ripple of laughter from the table next to them, but this time Lars did not interrupt.
“The Sa’Nerran warrior spoke to the guy in the shuttle?” said Sterling, checking to make sure he’d heard the old man correctly. “In words you could understand?”
The old man nodded excitedly. “It was difficult to make out at first, like a whisper from someone with a lisp, but it was definitely talking to him.”
Suddenly, a crumb of bread hit the old man in the face, eliciting another ripple of laughter from the group to Sterling’s side.
“See, I told you the old fool was crazy,” Lars said, casting a sideways glance to Sterling. “Not one alien bastard has a said a single word that made sense since Fleet stirred up their hornets’ nest fifty years ago,” the young man continued, his eyes looking at Sterling accusingly as he said this. “Yet old man Hubbard here just so happens to find the first talking alien in the galaxy.”
There was another ripple of laughter and this time the old man retaliated, tossing his bowl of food at Lars. The stew coated the young man’s pants in thick, brown gravy. Lars shot out of his chair and struck Hubbard across the face, knocking him to the floor. Lars then pushed the table out of the way and surged forward, but Sterling caught the younger man’s arm and twisted it into a lock. Lars yelped in pain as Sterling steered him away from the older man and placed himself between them.
“Let go of me, goddam it!” Lars yelled. “I’ll kill you, you Fleet bastard! Let me go!”
Sterling released his hold on Lars and pushed him away. The younger man instantly took a step toward him, fists clenched, but reconsidered his attack as Shade moved into view, rifle held ready. The clomp of heavy boots then caused Lars and his group of sycophants to spin around. Banks was standing behind them, her eyes fixed on the ringleader, knife still in hand. Considering her immense strength, even the dull kitchen utensil was a lethal weapon.
“So, what? Are you three are going to stop all of us?” Lars scoffed.
“I don’t have any quarrel with the rest of the people in here,” replied Sterling, calmly, but with enough volume to ensure the anxious onlookers could hear. “It seems to me that it’s only the five of you idiots that have a problem,” he added, gesturing to Lars and the rest of his quintet.
“It’s still five on three,” Lars hit back. “The lady over there ain’t gonna shoot us all before I stick a knife in your throat.” The young man then hooked a thumb toward Banks. “And what’s she gonna do? Swear at us?”
Banks gritted her teeth and swung her arm down at the table to her side, smashing it in half like a rotten twig. Lars jerked back as the broken ends of the four-inch-thick wooden beams slammed into the deck.
“Okay, that’s enough goddam it!” yelled Landry, rushing into the middle of the fray. “Lars, get out of here, now!’ she barked at the younger man.
Lars was still staring at the broken table in awe and disbelief, but then flicked his eyes across to Banks. The armor covering her forearm was cracked and smashed in a hundred places, but Banks herself showed no signs of pain. She simply glowered back at the ringleader, willing him to make a move.
“Whatever, we’re done here, anyway,” said Lars, pushing through the rows of other tables and chairs to make his way out of the dining area. “Listen to that guy talk crazy all you want.” The man aimed a finger at Sterling. “But you best be gone by sunrise. You ain’t welcome here.”
Sterling waited for Lars and the four others to move out of view then turned to Landry. She was staring at the table that Banks had split in half.
“Just how the hell did you manage that?” Landry demanded, turning her narrowed eyes to Banks. “That’s the local hardwood. It’s tougher than the composites they used to build this damned accommodation block with.”
Banks just shrugged. “Adrenalin, I guess,” she replied, casually, while trying squeeze her fractured forearm plating back into shape.
Landry’s scowl deepened, but she didn’t press Banks for a more detailed explanation. It seemed clear that they’d outstayed their welcome.
“I think under the circumstances, you’d probably bett
er leave,” Landry said, with the same hostility that she’d shown toward them earlier. “I trust you’ll honor our bargain, though?”
Sterling considered telling the woman where she could stick her bargain, but mustered enough restraint to continue speaking in a calm and measured tone.
“There will be a window in the storm in about four hours, after which we’ll get a crew to fix your generator,” Sterling said. “There’s a fuel processing plant on the west side of the colony. It was damaged in the attacks, but we can repair it easily enough. Then you’ll be back up and running.”
Landry considered this then shrugged. “Okay, and what about the other supplies?”
“Our chief engineer is working through the list now,” Sterling lied. He didn’t like lying, but they were heavily outnumbered and he didn’t want a lynch mob bearing down on him.
Landry held Banks’ eyes for a few moments then glanced down at the table. “You gonna fix that too?” she said, petulantly.
“I’m sure it can be arranged,” Banks replied, with matching bite.
“Under the circumstances, you can’t wait in here,” Landry went on, returning her attention to Sterling. “I can’t have you riling up the residents any more than you already have. You’ve caused enough trouble as it is.” Banks looked ready to hit back at the accusation that it was them that had caused the trouble, but the firebrand first officer managed to bite her tongue. “There’s a shelter on the roof,” Landry continued. “We use it as a lookout. It might be a bit breezy, but it’ll keep the rain off your faces at least.”
Banks then nodded toward the kitchen. “Can you pot that up to go?” she said.
“This ain’t a damn takeout, lady,” Landry snapped back. She then wafted her hand despairingly at Banks. “But if it means you’ll leave then I don’t give a damn. Just make sure you’re gone before Lars comes back with more guys. I won’t be responsible for what he does when that happens.” The colonist then headed off, shaking her head and muttering under her breath.
