Children of the White Star

by Linda Thackeray

  As they approached the house, Garryn held back and allowed Aaran to continue ahead alone. He stood in the cover of the shadows and shrubbery surrounding the brick dwelling as Aaran hurried up the front steps, calling out to his wife loudly. No sooner than she heard her name, a petite woman with shiny dark hair and deep brown eyes hurried out into her husband's waiting arms.

  Garryn allowed them a few moments of privacy before he stepped out into the open. Rachel reacted to his sudden appearance, but Aaran quickly assured her there was no danger.

  “Rachel, this is Garryn,” Aaran said, speaking in English, introducing the new arrival to his startled wife. “He is Brysdynian.”

  Despite the harsh existence she shared with Aaran, she wore the years well and was a handsome woman, Garryn thought. Her jet black hair was held together with a cord of colourful material and she observed him with dark brown eyes.

  “Hello,” she greeted him cautiously, still uncertain about him despite Aaran's claims. “You Brysdyn?”

  She spoke with the skill of a child, but Garryn was impressed by the effort nonetheless.

  “Yes, you speak our language.”

  He ignored the nagging voice reminding him Brysdynian wasn't his language either.

  It took her a moment to fully grasp what he had said in return, but when she did, Rachel smiled back graciously despite her fear. “Thank you. Aaran good teacher.”

  “As are you, madam,” Aaran winked at his wife.

  The young lady who stood in the doorway watching the exchange between her parents and the stranger said nothing until she was remembered. Motioning her forward, Garryn saw a tall, lithe figure walk down the stairway with exceptional grace. As she neared them, Aaran introduced his daughter with typical paternal pride. “Garryn, this is my daughter, Hannah.”

  As with her mother, Garryn regarded her presence with a nod. Despite the illumination of the full moon, it was difficult to see her very clearly. What he did see told him she was a striking beauty. Since her mother's genes were most dominant, her hair was the same jet black, while her eyes were her father's green and her skin was light like her mother's but bore a more ivory complexion. She was exceedingly pretty.

  “Are you really from another planet?” She spoke better Brysdynian than her mother, although the words did sound odd coming from her mouth. While she could speak the language, her pronunciation and accent made it sound more exotic than authentic.

  Garryn liked how it sounded.

  “I am,” he said with a smile and averted his gaze before her parents found this inappropriate. This was not the time for distractions, Garryn chided himself silently.

  “What's happening, Ari?” Rachel asked her husband, now that it was obvious that they were not in any danger.

  “We are going home to Brysdyn,” he declared happily.

  Although he could not be certain of what they were saying, Rachel seemed ambivalent at the thought of returning home. Garryn couldn't blame her for her hesitation. Aaran had hardly been treated fairly by Security Elite and his reappearance would cause ripples through the Quorum, especially after revealing his story. At the moment, however, Garryn was more concerned with reaching Australia.

  “We can talk about this once we're on the ship,” he told the family.

  “The ship?” Rachel understood enough to look sharply at Aaran with uncertainty.

  “It's alright,” Aaran assured her, taking her hand in his. In that moment, Garryn saw how deep the bond between them was and hoped Aaran would be able to allay her fears. To Aaran, Brysdyn was home, but to Rachel it was the world whose inhabitants destroyed her people.

  * * *

  Australia.

  He said the name several times during the short journey across the planet. Garryn kept repeating the word, hoping it would trigger some hidden memory. He clung wildly to the hope that something would rise out of the fog in his mind and give him all the answers he craved and, yet, the word still sounded unfamiliar. It sounded almost as strange as knowing that his family name might well be Alexander.

  J Alexander.

  Was J his name? Rachel had told him J was part of the English language alphabet. It was the abbreviation for something else. What was it? The answer was maddeningly close and he walked around the ship for the duration of the journey ignoring the others, focused only upon reaching his destination. Fortunately, Flinn was conversant enough to keep them occupied until their arrival and Garryn was grateful for that. At this stage, Aaran had no idea who his rescuer was – the Prime of Brysdyn. Such revelations could wait until they reached home.

  Home.

  Like everything else, nothing felt the same anymore. Brysdyn least of all. This ruined blue world was the planet of his birth. His heritage and his past were here, decaying from an act of horrific callousness. This world was his home, even when he was fighting the urge to tell Flinn to take him home to Brysdyn, to the world he had always known. Anywhere would have done, as long as it was far away from the truth.

  Garryn isolated himself in the gunnery turret for some privacy while he wrestled with these thoughts. As the ship sped over the planet at sub-light speed, he was treated to a spectacular view of his home planet through the plexiglassed window. Earth was a world teeming with life, of large magnificent mountain ranges, expansive blue oceans and white snow-capped peaks. It was a world of numerous extremes, a melting pot for so many different climates thrown into the mix. Ice covered plains on one continent, while the next was warm and dry, with dense jungle belts.

  Armed with the map book from Aaran's library, Rachel pinpointed the exact location of where they needed to go. Aaran had been correct when he said Young was a place. Rachel had found it in the map book or 'Atlas' as she called it. It was the name of a small town in the east coast of the continent. NSW was a province as near as he could understand it. What had she called it? New South Wales?

  The continent was like the rest of the planet, a place of extremes. The coasts were covered with thick jungles. Swirling hot clouds above them indicated the density of the humidity level. As they moved further into the continent, the jungle thinned into farming land. However, as they reached the centre of the continent, the greenery was replaced by harsh red desert terrain. As they moved closer to the surface, Garryn saw great herds of animals bouncing across the landscape with an unusual kind of grace, trailing clouds of dust as they moved.

  His stomach clenched when he recognised them. It was the same creatures he had seen in his dreams and he knew with utter certainty this was where he needed to be.

  Thanks to the Atlas, Flinn knew exactly where he was going once he fed the coordinates into his ship's computer. With usual expertise, he was able to fly straight into the town.

  The Wayward Son began its descent some hundred kilometres from the coast. The land in which they would shortly set down was decidedly rural. Beyond the town limits, the settlements were sparse. It was strange how farming communities always looked the same, even in a distant world such at this. From above, there seemed to be very little evidence of the invasion. Natural vegetation had overtaken most of the buildings, reclaiming it for the land.

  The ship set down in the centre of town. Flinn conducted a sensor sweep prior to their descent and found no evidence of any life. This was hardly surprising. Farming communities were harsh environments at the best of times. With the loss of the adult population, Garryn could not see the children surviving any longer on their own. They would have left or perished.

  When it was time to leave the ship, Flinn elected to remain in the ship and Garryn saw no reason to convince him otherwise. He allowed Aaran to take the lead when they left the ship and entered the small settlement.

  Hannah fell in step with him as they moved into the main road through the town. In its day, it could have been considered a growing population, Garryn thought. There certainly seemed to be enough evidence of it. The local merchants had sold everything, from vehicle components to textiles and food. There were restaurants and bookstores.
It would have been a nice place to live, Garryn thought.

  On the morning of the attack, it had been shaping up to be a busy day. Most of the population had been out and about, as evidenced by the bodies on the street. Skeletal remains lay across sidewalks and behind glass shop fronts. A number of vehicles had crashed into buildings. The bones of the dead were covered in cobwebs and dust, exposed to the ravages of weather.

  “Are you alright?” Hannah asked as she came up alongside him. It was still jarring to hear her speak with that unusual accent.

  “I thought you would be more disturbed at seeing this than I would.”

  She looked down the dark paved road, with a hint of sadness in her face. “I've grown up with all this.”

  “Of course you have.” Garryn felt embarrassed he'd forgotten that. “I'm trying to imagine living in a world that feels like a graveyard.”

  “You become accustomed to it.” Her tone indicated that she did not like speaking of it, so he did not push. Instead, he called out to her parents. “None of this seems familiar to me.”

  “That is hardly surprising, Garryn,” the scientist looked back at him. “You were barely three years old the last time you were here.”

  “If I was here. Everyone is dead. There is no way to know for sure.”

  “There might be a way,” Rachel declared and broke away from them and entered the first shop she encountered.

  They followed her in as she moved past the doorway, ignoring the dead bodies on the floor gathering dust. Garryn winced at the musty smell in the confined space and wondered what it was she was doing.

  Cautiously, Rachel walked around the store's dusty counter and found another dead body. The skeleton was lying across the counter and was most likely the proprietor of this establishment. They'd be conducting business when the end had come. Moth eaten reels of material lay strewn across the table, with scissors and marking chalk looking equally worn.

  This was some kind of dress shop, Garryn thought.

  “What are you looking for?” he asked.

  “Well,” Rachel rummaged behind the counter, “if you are from this town, then your family could be listed in the phone book.” She explained in English to her husband so he could translate.

  “What did she say?” Garryn looked at Aaran but even the older man appeared similarly puzzled.

  A few seconds later, Rachel straightened up again. In her hand was a thick yellow book with soft covers. It was covered in cobwebs and dust like everything in the place. It unsettled the dust on the counter when she placed it on the surface and spread the thin pages open. Flipping through the pages one after another, it was a few more minutes before she found what she was looking for and faced her husband with a smile of triumph.

  “Translate for me,” she told Aaran and started speaking.

  Aaran translated as required. “Garryn. This records the name of everyone who has a telephone. It's an Earther communication device. Almost everyone possesses one and, if they do, their names are listed in this book. Rachel has found five listings of Alexanders in this book.”

  Aaran paused and looked up at him. “One of these could be your family.”

  XXVI

  Justin

  The first three names in the 'telephone book', as Rachel called it, were residents who lived within the town limits. Proving herself to be an adept guide, she led them to the town square and found a map of the area for the tourists, behind the smashed glass of a display board. With it, Rachel was able to pinpoint approximately where these people lived. Despite his initial reservations about involving Aaran's family in this private search, Garryn was grateful for Rachel's help.

  With Aaran translating, Rachel explained the principle behind the telephone register. Like the census records of Paralyte, it was kept as up to date as possible. As they moved through the town, he noticed the telephone devices were almost always accompanied by the yellow books. Perhaps this planet was not quite as advanced as Brysdyn, but it appeared to Garryn Earth had potential. If left untouched, she would have been able to take her place as the third member of the White Star Alliance.

  The hot, dry weather had kept everything intact. Houses remained standing, although some succumbed to fire and other natural calamities following the deployment of the missiles. Walking through the streets overgrown with weeds and other vegetation, he could feel the warm waves of arid air scraping against his skin. There was no sound except the wind and the soft chirps of birds in the distance.

  After half an hour of walking through the home of the third Alexander on their list, Garryn found nothing useful. He paused in the middle of the living room and sighed deeply before instantly regretting it. The stale and musty air made him sneeze and the odour in the room made his stomach lurch. Striding out of the place, he emerged into the sunlight, grateful for the warmth after feeling the chill in that haunted place.

  “Are you alright?” Hannah asked, concerned.

  Garryn nodded.

  “This isn't it,” he told Aaran.

  “How do you know?”

  Garryn stared at the house, seeing nothing that seemed familiar to him. Nothing that looked like that place in his dreams. “I just know.”

  “According to the map,” Rachel spoke in English, relying on Aaran to translate for Garryn, “the other two Alexanders lived out of town. I think we should try and find those before it gets dark.” She knew if it was her family she was trying to trace, waiting another day would be too much.

  “I agree.” Garryn nodded once her words had been translated to him. “Although we ought to go back to the ship. Flinn has a skimmer on board the Wayward Son.”

  “A skimmer?” Hannah inquired. “What's a skimmer?”

  “It's a land transport,” Aaran answered before he could.

  “Like a car?”

  Garryn had no idea to what they were referring, but gathered they must have been speaking of the vehicles he saw earlier.

  “Close enough.”

  * * *

  “I don't normally use the skimmer,” Flinn explained as he drove the terrestrial transport out of one of his cargo holds. “But you never know when these things will come in handy.”

  Despite what he said, Garryn noticed that the skimmer was kept in prime condition. It was an older model, but it seemed maintained with a great deal of care. The paintwork remained unblemished and there was a surprising lack of dust on a vehicle spending most of its time locked away in a cargo hold. Garryn suspected Flinn spent considerable effort in the upkeep of the skimmer and his affection for it was more than the pilot led them to believe.

  Normally the skimmer took only four but with a bit of effort, they were all able to fit into the vehicle. Rachel sat up front with Flinn and, with Aaran's aid, navigated the skimmer through the maze of roads that ran throughout the town limits. The fourth Alexander lived out of town and Garryn noticed a strange thing once they had moved out of the tree-lined avenues and quiet suburban streets.

  I have been this way before.

  It came to him in a flash of memory so potent that, for a moment, he could visualise travelling along the road now taking them out of town. For a moment, he wondered if it was real or just wishful thinking. He could almost see the people in their lawns, hosing their gardens, washing their cars in the driveway and children playing ball on the roads, getting reprimanded by their parents for doing it.

  He said nothing to the others as they left the houses behind and the journey ahead revealed field after field of long grass slowly turning into a dark gold. Staring at the passing scene, he saw a fence line disappearing into the distance. The livestock it was meant to keep penned in were nowhere in sight. Tall trees with grey trunks waved at them with bare branches. Their leaves lay at the base of their trunks, flying in all directions as the skimmer drove past.

  Garryn closed his eyes and tried to fight the images flashing through his mind like a storm of white birds in his head. His mouth and throat felt dry and Garryn swallowed hard, trying to quell th
e hollowness in his stomach.

  “Garryn, are you all right?” Hannah noticed his pallor.

  It took him a moment to realise that she had spoken before he was able to respond. “I'm sorry. My mind was elsewhere.”

  “Do you remember something?”

  Flinn and her parents, who were discussing the quickest route to their destination, were oblivious to their exchange.

  “A little,” he replied, feeling a little distressed by what he was seeing. “I keep seeing things. There is this wall in my head that's letting me see cracks but not the whole picture.”

  “Then we must be going in the right direction,” she said firmly, taking his hand in hers. “You must be strong. Your mind at least remembers this place and is trying to tell you slowly.”

  Her insight reminded him for a moment of Jonen. A wave of grief rose within him for the man, but he quashed it quickly. “You could be right. I think the wall is starting to crumble the nearer I come to the end.”

  “This is it!” Aaran announced.

  The skimmer turned down a dirt track off the main road. As they left the tarred surface, the engines of the skimmer blew dust in the air as they drove up the rise of a small hill. Once it reached the crest and started moving downhill, they were treated to the view of the fields below.

  Garryn saw waves and waves of rolling gold hills. The tall stalks of deep yellow were almost too dazzling to look at directly. Standing over the sea of gold were tall trees with grey bark and big open branches. In the air, he saw birds flying. They were moving too fast to see them clearly, but he could see they were white.

  A dirt track was flanked by thin wire fences running along the length of the road. As they continued around a bend, they could see it emptying into the grounds of a modest sized house. The roof of the house was made from corrugated steel and standing next to the house was a windmill. At least, that's what it looked like to him. Its iron blades were rusted, but it still stood proudly over the house in silent vigil.