by Martin Perry
“They believe in you Earnest,” Marc 14 whispered to him.
“Do you?” Champion whispered back.
“Always.”
Champion turned to his panel, tapping through final reports that clicked through as Annie’s crew made the last few checks before preparing to bring her out of the sky. She had not touched down on Earth in years, and there were some concerns that her patched together systems might not cope well with the sometimes volatile gasses pumped into Earth’s atmosphere. However, Annie’s well-being was not Champion’s primary concern as he gave the command for them to begin descent – all he could focus on were the lives aboard it.
The descent was timed to coincide with rush hour traffic. As Unified North America’s west coast awoke and the first heavy barrage of morning departures left the ports, the Jump Cannon began to head towards the planet’s surface. Her relatively small size and the sheer chaos of the morning made sure that she was unnoticed as she fell through the sanctioned lanes of traffic, ships that dwarfed her thundering by, before breaking off just as they entered the upper atmosphere. In these moments they would diverted away from the constant flow and head for the farm.
In all it took no more than ten minutes, and Annie lazily deflected the buffeting gasses that smacked against her. Weaving through ship after ship, all classes zipping past her windows with a familiar rumble that disrupted nothing as her experienced crew monitored her every system, Annie hurtled towards her homeland with enthusiasm. As they curved towards the farm, Champion ran his hand along the panel in a similar fashion as Marc 14 had done to him – thanking the old girl with a gentle caress.
Propulsion kicked in and brought Annie’s speed down to a manageable level. She hovered towards the farm, cutting across the sky above so much open yellow and green land. Corn fields and farmland creatures leaned upwards to watch as the white hull drew an imposing shadow.
Aboard, her systems operated far better than they had in the last week, the ship truly did seem enthusiastic about her return to Earth.
The farm came into view and the navigation team spoke among themselves, positioning the ship to land along one of the large stretches of ground in front of the buildings. Champion thought for a moment that the farm seemed designed to receive ships, her long fields marking out the perfect approach. This thought was only fleeting though, the heavy blast of the propulsion output connecting with the ground, flattening the crops below, catching his attention. Within the next few seconds Annie had made contact with the ground with a clunk.
Everything began to whir down, the declining noise of the ship matching the deep sighs of her crew as their bodies eased free of tension. Reclining into seats, leaning back against walls, some simply parking themselves on the floor everybody, afforded themselves a minute to enjoy the feeling of being home.
Beta Crew stood in the locker room clipping together their armour and checking weapons, along with specialist equipment they had gathered to meet the range of obstacles that might face them on the ground. Yazram, now considered a bona fide member, had pulled together spare parts into a coherent black covering. A mix of smooth and more rugged pieces would offer him ample protection, although as Maur watched him efficiently check his weapon he wondered if was really Yazram that required it. The men he was about to face should be fearful of a man who hugged a bomb. He was glad to have the seetan on his side, he thought, as the last leg covering was clasped into place.
The large bay door opened to a breathable atmosphere once again, although this time to a sunny day in the middle of hospitable farm country, far more pleasant than Pura, Seeon or the wilderness they had escaped only a week ago. A light breeze rolled across the tall golden grass, the flow of wind carrying over Annie’s curved shape, protecting them from the slight chill it brought. Instead they just felt the warming welcome of their home star. It beamed comfort and safety upon them, despite the very real lack of either.
Standing for a moment, each took in the air and scanned the area. Yazram, in particular, was quite taken aback by his standing in the light of day. It had been a long time since he had been away from the permanent darkness of Seeon’s cursed side. The heat tingled against his solid skin, molecules reacting to a foreign sensation. Maur looked to him and, for the first time in his memory, saw this personality eke out a smile. It offered him solace that this seetan was not without heart and happiness despite his polar opposite, Marzy, having been nowhere to be seen since the explosions that Langthorn had inflicted upon the ship.
“It feels good doesn’t it?” Yazram said, catching Maur staring from the corner of his eye.
“It does, it always has. I’m not sure I’ve ever gotten used to being away from the sun, no other star feels the same,” Maur replied, turning his head away and looking back out towards his mother’s farm.
“Hmm... I guess I might feel the same about Seeon’s star were it more of a presence in my upbringing, but the etha, as she is known, was absentee in my childhood. I will admit, I am jealous that you were able to enjoy this for so many years,” mused Yazram further.
“I hadn’t thought of it like that before, I guess it was always there,” said Maur.
“Well,” started Charles, letting out a puff of purpose as he spoke, emptying his lungs of the fresh air, “we must do our utmost to ensure that she never leaves us. Sunlight might be just one casualty if the Free Man Nation ever succeeds in returning us to the days prior to the Collapse. I have heard that even in places such as this the black fog of industry became so powerful as to overwhelm the skies.”
“Surely that has to be an exaggeration?” Thom asked, mimicking Charles’ long exhale first.
“Who can honestly say,” he replied, “but I know that this place would not have been so welcoming in those days. Whether it was an airfield, an industrial farm or a site for landfill I can assure you that the air would not be so enriching.”
“I’ve seen factory planets,” Kerra added, “and my great-grandmother used to tell me stories, much older than she was obviously, that made the Earth sound just like those. I can’t imagine anything worse, those places are like Hell. Very literally.”
“Come on,” Maur said with optimism, “less chat about our impending doom and more focus on my mom’s kitchen. I’m pretty sure I can smell pie.”
“This is hardly the appropriate time for baking...” questioned Yazram.
“Hah, you haven’t met my mom yet. As far as she’s concerned, any time is an appropriate time for baking."
They set off across the field, Champion and Marc 14 joining them just before they left Annie’s side. They took high foot steps to break their way through the grass. By now, other members of the crew had started to file out, bringing equipment with them, and they too seemed energised by the familiarity of Earth. All except, perhaps, for the purans who had put on heavy coats to handle the cool weather. Seeing them made Kerra laugh for a moment.
Farm buildings came into view, including the main house. They were all made of red brick, the type that had been baked in the sun hundreds of years before, but was now mass-produced and given the look of age. Even the outbuildings, except for one large wooden barn, were constructed of this – odd for this part of the world. Kerra had expected to see the usual blank coloured panels used to create modular and functional constructions. These buildings wore the hallmarks of being crafted out of love, and she was fascinated with the question of how Maur’s family had come to own them. She did not expect to receive an answer any time soon.
Maur stepped up his pace a little, taking the lead towards the main house with the purpose that only somebody who has lived in a place will ever display. At the front door, old wood painted a dark burgundy, he raised a clenched hand to knock on the door, but it was flung open well before he could bring it down.
His mother bounded forward. Clenching arms as tightly as she could around her son’s broadened shoulders. The armour didn’t matter, she just stood and held him. Maur tried to free an arm enough to reciprocate the aff
ection, but could only manage a soft pat on her lower back as she continued her grip.
“Oh, it’s so good to see you,” she said, bending her neck back to look into his face. He was turning red, the hug going on just long enough to make it embarrassing.
“You too mom,” he replied, meaning it but still hoping it would be enough to set him free of the vice hold he was in.
It was, and she stepped back and began to greet each of the party individually. Each was rewarded for their polite introduction with a cooing embrace, a gesture which caused Yazram some confusion. Kerra received a hug almost equal to Maur’s, a mother perhaps sensing her importance in her son’s life.
“Come in, please,” she said, ushering them with a hand after the greetings were over. They all filed in, Champion ducking his head to her as he passed, demonstrating some old fashioned manners as the younger people took the lead ahead of him.
The doorway of the main house entered directly into the kitchen, a room styled in a familiar traditional manner that too recalled historic scenes of family life. The island in the centre was something of a less homely sight, freshly baked pie and other cakes sat in the middle but rather dominated by the mix of assault weaponry spread around them.
Charles and Kerra, both seasoned enough to care, took a quick inventory of what lay in front. It was a formidable armoury in and of itself. Both were eager to see what else Margaret had stashed away in the house.
Old pots, pans and other cooking paraphernalia lined the walls and the shelves in between were stuffed with similar equipment. Other ornaments, mostly of a twee variety, were mixed in and contributed to the overloaded look of the bare stone walls. The sunlight beamed through the windows, catching on the bits of dust in the air, lighting up a room that had very much been lived in. It had that ever-present atmosphere that is only ever left behind after generations have used a building as a home.
“Take a seat, there are plates and cutlery laid out, you might have to move some of the weaponry,” Margaret chuckled, “but help yourself.”
Only Thom indulged, his culinary competitiveness getting the better of him. He lurched forward and started to cut while the others sat in polite silence, a more significant agenda on their mind.
“Mom,” Maur opened the more ominous conversation, “have you actually started preparing or have you just been baking?”
“Aren’t they one and the same thing?” Margaret replied while she ferreted in cupboards preparing drinks.
“Come on, you know what I mean. You did listen when I told you what sort of threat we are facing? I wasn’t joking...”
“I know that Maur,” she said sharply, bringing a glass down on the counter with enough force to chip the fragile crockery, “but you might let me enjoy your being back for at least a moment!”
Kerra, who was sat opposite him, gave Maur a sympathetic look, then tilted her head to gesture towards Margaret. The direction didn’t heed the desired response, Maur sitting entirely still rather than going over to comfort her. He had plenty of experience with his mother’s occasional emotional outbursts, it was always better to just let them pass.
“Mom,” he said after waiting the allotted time, “you said that these people, the Free Man Nation, might not mean that I literally know something about this power. What did you mean? You don’t say something like that without reason...”
She sidled up to the island, placing down a tray filled with cold drinks, the chipped glass still present as if the whole outburst had never happened.
“I guess that now isn’t the time for secrets,” Margaret sighed, looking down towards the tray. “Although I had only ever kept it for your own safety. Maur, not everything here on the farm is what it appears to be. I've known this was all coming for a long time.”
“...population collapse is deemed imminent. Presidential authorities from around the globe have pledged financial...[garbled speech]...birth rate continues to fall...in comparison to the worldwide average crude death rate of 212.45...environmental related illness and conflict related death continue to be the highest causes...”
Transcript of an audio broadcast dated prior to the Collapse. Hardware degradation meant that the entire broadcast could not be recovered.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“This doesn’t sound good...” Marc 14 said ominously, drawing out the last few syllables.
“No no dear,” Margaret replied. “It’s really nothing that awful. I used to be a man... ha. No, it’s nothing that bad.”
Her joke fell on deaf ears, nobody reciprocating the sharp chuckle Margaret let out as she made it. Maur looked particularly concerned, sitting bolt upright. He tried to prepare himself for the worst, and the dedication with which he approached this task meant that just for a moment, the brief gap in time before she had laughed, he had truly believed the suggestion. He had even scanned his eyes over her jaw to look for left-over stubble.
“Ahem. I guess now isn’t the time for that,” Margaret deduced. “Well, the truth is rather more simple.”
“This farm was built on ground previously occupied by a military base, one that hasn’t operated since the Collapse happened. For as long as its been a farm its been in your father’s family of course, that goes back a couple of hundred years in itself, but its exact purpose before that isn’t something that I can give you much insight into. All I know is that the markings you find around the place definitely back up the old stories about it being a military base.”
“What markings?” Maur questioned, sure that he had explored every inch of the place during his time there as a child and an adolescent.
“Oh, you probably won’t have noticed them, but your father told me where to look. After his great-great-grandfather, or whatever you might call him, first worked it out, steps have been taken to make sure that nobody from outside the family ever found out. Particularly back in his day there was a strong trade in pre-Collapse items, the whole place would probably have been torn apart if they hadn’t hidden away the military stuff.”
“I’m not sure how this relates to Maur...” Thom said, the only one impatient enough to raise his voice.
“Anyway,” Margaret continued undisturbed, “the buildings, including this one, have always been maintained to fit in with people’s ideas of what was old and uninteresting. That’s why the house is built with replica brick, it’s supposed to look as if it has always been here. Unfortunately for Maur, some of the measures to protect this home, this home that has been in the family for generations I might add, are older than a lot of the buildings. Some of them haven’t always been up to standard.”
“If there’s one thing that the symbols indicate, without a shadow of a doubt, it’s that this place was important. It wasn’t a run of the mill base where a few soldiers lived and trained, it was more than that. Your father once even found a lock box in the field that contained nothing more than cryptic messages laced with warnings of lethal consequences for anybody that leaked the information. You don’t get many of those sorts of threats on barrack reports, I know that much.”
The room was certainly focused on what Margaret was saying, but the impending assault led by the Free Man Nation was weighing heavily on their mind. Itchy feet were starting to fumble, and people began adjusting themselves on their seats. Charles was brazen enough to stand up, folding his arms and trying to contain his growing agitation at the length of this yarn, however important it was.
“Mom, I think we need to move faster towards the point...” Maur said, noticing the movements.
“Don’t rush me Maur, this is important,” came the reply and a sharp look with it, “and don’t think I don’t understand the severity of this situation.”
“To continue,” she said, “Maur was unfortunate enough to find a weakness in the defences, so to speak, without really intending too. On his eighth birthday we held a party for him and a few of the children from nearby. It was a pleasant afternoon, the kids were playing nicely together and us adults were settling down to a glas
s of wine before the whole thing wrapped up. My son however, decided to spoil the whole day by throwing a tantrum. One of the kids, we never worked out which one, supposedly stood on one of the birthday gifts he had been given. Rather than taking it as a simple accident, Maur protested that it had been intentional. When I asked him to give rest to the issue, and explained that his father would take him into Karson the next day to buy a replacement, he decided that we were in cahoots with the children. Shouting that we were all out to get him, he ran off into the distance...”
“Mrs. Rosewell, I really do not wish to be rude, but we have a limited amount of time to prepare,” Champion said, crooning to try and avoid the same tongue-lashing that Maur had received.
“Almost there Earnest,” she replied far more civilly than she had to Maur. “Once again, I understand the urgency, but it is important to be accurate in these matters.”
“To conclude,” she looked quickly in both Maur and Champion’s direction, “Maur’s father chased after him, but was too far back to stop him from falling into a shaft that was hidden within the old, although not ancient, orchard on the edges of the farm. It had been covered years ago with a wooden grate, most of the concrete blocking around well covered with ivy and whatnot, and that grate had become rotten. It broke under his weight, no doubt assisted by the stomping of angry little feet, and Maur went tumbling down.”
Maur remembered the incident now, his mother’s detailed recollection helping him pull back a memory that had long been filed away in the deepest parts of his mind. He recalled desperately grabbing onto whatever foliage lined the wall. It worked to break the fall, although he had still ended up with several broken bones to be repaired.
“When we pulled Maur up from the hole and took him to the doctor for his injuries he broke the medical scanners. Your father demanded more industrial equipment was brought in to check you out, all they could tell us was that you had become irradiated somehow, but not any sort of radiation that they explicitly recognised.”
