by S. J. Higbee
I launched into a gabble, wanting to get this over before Cerk reappeared, “I majorly appreciate your support. But d’you think you should stay with me? I mean – I’ll nail his sorry carcass for sure, but… I’m not kidding myself it’ll be easy.”
Wynn doodled a shape in the spilt coffee on the table. “Nope. Not sure of anything as it happens. Never am, around you. Fact is, when those alien monsters ripped your back open I thought you were dying. So much blood. And when they scooped you up and took you away…” He shifted as his robes flapped around his legs. “Figured next time I saw you, it’d be to say farewell before they planted you in the ground. Or launched you out’ve the airlock…”
I sat still, wondering if this was some whacked-out dream brought on by my hopeless longing for him, along with too much caffeine.
“And I realised there was a part’ve me that never got over you.” He leaned forward and touched my hand. “I… the thought of walking away from you again kills me. Can we… see where this takes us? Afterwards?”
I nodded, blinking hard. “Mm. Yes, yes… I’d like that. Very much.”
Which was when Cerk bounced up to the table, before stumbling to a halt. “Am I interrupting?”
Wynn took hold of my hand as he turned to face Cerk. “Nope. Just sorting out some stuff.”
Cerk’s sigh made his veil flutter. “Thank Mother Earth one of you had the spine to finally say it. It’s been painful watching each of you so saggy-souled for the other.”
“Saggy-souled! I wasn’t…” I spluttered and took a breath as Cerk sniggered. “Hm. Yeah. Guess it sort’ve sums up how I was feeling,” I admitted, stroking Wynn’s callused knuckles and feeling like I’d come home.
But, of course, I hadn’t. And even though I now felt I could walk on the Sun, we still had to arrive on Earth. Which was an almighty caper, I might add. It didn’t help that I’d never used a skyhook before.
“What – never?” asked Cerk. His robes never flapped unexpectedly around his ankles, I noticed.
“Why would I? We have shuttles. Much quicker and a whole lot more secure and flexible.” And I cannot believe I’m having to justify why I’ve never travelled dirtside in a crowded lift on a swaying cable…
In the event, the journey down Skyhook Clarke wasn’t as bad as I’d feared. It was a whole lot worse. For starters, Earth Customs’ shoddy rep is entirely merited. The dour adminite processing us seemed to find it physically painful that as Gaiasts, we were officially permitted to come and go as we please. And that they’re not sanctioned to force us to remove our veils. What they can do is ask – and when we refused, in what seemed petty-minded revenge, Cerk, Wynn and I were required to provide samples of hair, spit, nails, and a retina scan that the veil turned into a major performance, in addition to scanning our robes to ascertain that they were genuine Eaought-tech. While this was going on, I was trying not to worry about the robustness of our fake idents, drawing comfort from the fact that neither Wynn nor I had ever been to Earth before, as Jessica cursed and struggled to control my robe.
The drosser was all set to start in on the crates of burned modcrete from Hawking that apparently had been transported by the Eaoughts – when the area filled up with a crowd of tired, angry passengers. It seemed a minor accident between a private yacht and a tender had damaged one of the main mooring hubs, holding up the docking of two scheduled passenger liners, causing a sudden influx of annoyed people who’d expected to be dirtside hours ago.
However, said luck was double-edged. On one hand, officialdom couldn’t pay us any more attention as they had their hands full, while on the other hand, we were crammed far too tightly into a skypod for comfort, which was a real issue for those of us going barefoot. Wynn’s arm around my shoulders was tense. At least no one spoke to us, so once more the Gaiast robes and veils earnt their passage.
First-time visitors to Earth chatted to each other and anyone else who cared to join in, exchanging information on their journeys and their initial impressions of Mother Earth. While Earthers only spoke to their travelling companions, ignoring everyone else in the pod. Or stared ahead, blank-faced, evidently wrapped up in the coms-chat pouring through their eardrop. No wonder they have such a rep for rudeness, if this is how they behave.
The pod started moving. I’d assumed the journey down the skyhook would be a slow, steady descent. However, one moment there was an unnecessarily loud alarm, presumably to warn us the pod was about to start moving – the next, my stomach hit the back of my throat as we dropped like a stone. I clutched Wynn and my staff, as those of us standing between the seats struggled not to end up in the laps of the seated children and women with babies. Passengers yelled and children wailed.
A weary-looking Earther raised his voice over the commotion, “It’s alright! The pods are bot-controlled. We were held up, so they’ll fast-track us to our slot and then it’ll be—ˮ
A shuddering jerk interrupted him, as a woman cannoned into the group of passengers behind us. Wynn staggered, but I was able to keep my footing, using my staff to steady us both.
“Now it’ll be smoother and slower,” the Earther continued, once the shoving and yelling died down.
He was right. As we entered the atmosphere and the sky slowly paled, the firsties around us were fumbling for sunglasses to protect tender, space-acclimatised eyes. We were alright, though, as the Gaiast veils had some sort of inbuilt light filter that protected our vision from the glare. All skies are different, however I caught my breath at this particular version as the beautiful shade of blue sang to my soul.
“Home…” someone said in a broken voice, while most firsties were openly weeping. Tears trickled down my cheeks under the veil, as I stared down at the land beneath us. I’d always been sceptical of the Earth Effect and travellers’ claims that their first visit to the planet responsible for humanity’s creation is overwhelming.
“You solid?” Wynn asked in a choked voice.
Nodding, I was unable to speak as a small sob escaped, instead. He drew me tighter, and locked together in a hug, hearing his heartbeat and feeling his warmth, I watched the landscape beneath us slowly get larger. I’ll remember this moment for the rest of my life…
However, my initial soft-edged feelings towards our ancestral planet hardened as the ugly low-rise buildings sprawling around the skyhook hub steadily grew more detailed. Roads and travellators twined amongst a ratrun of warehouses and factory complexes fringed by houses and shops with no order or discernible pattern. The sporadic vegetation that had survived the industrial complex was scrubby and dust-covered, apart from a single border of blooms in hectic shades of red and yellow edging the front of the skyhook base, which had the effect of making the rest of the stunted bushes and trees look even drabber in comparison. By the time we touched the ground, I was completely over my initial lame-brained reaction – this was just another grubby dirtball.
I wasn’t the only one disappointed. The pod rang with indignant comments over the shabby buildings, muddled layout and lack of healthy green spaces, while stony-faced Earthers ignored the rising tide of criticism.
“Glad we’re wearing the robes right now,” Wynn muttered in my ear. “Cos the visitors aren’t coming over all that well.”
I nodded, beginning to understand why the Earthers hadn’t bothered to join in the friendly chattiness earlier. If they had, they’d probably be in the position of trying to justify the sorry state of Clarkesville.
Cerk called across to us, “If we get separated in the Arrivals Hall, make your way to the Incoming Freight section. I’ll meet you there.”
It proved to be useful advice. In the crush to get out of the pod, the only reason Wynn and I stayed together was his firm grip on my hand and occasional ‘accidental’ jabs with my staff when some drosser treated my personal space as his allotted spot in the queue. I’d gritted my teeth, expecting the formalities of collecting our luggage and getting through Customs to be every bit as rigorous as the performance on the space-hub. However, by the time
we reached the Freight collection section, Cerk had already collected our crates, which were loaded onto carts by human labour, rather than the usual bots.
We were simply waved through Customs by a weary-looking official, with the words, “Welcome to Clarkesville, a UN-sponsored settlement. Please be aware you will need your ident coding and Earth visa when you reach the official border with the Federated African Republic. Details of officially approved guides are displayed on the mu-screen in the entrance halls, should you need one. Enjoy your stay on your home planet.”
We made our way through the teeming entrance hall, the cart driver blaring his horn to shift witless travellers off the cartway, and out of the battered double doors into the bright sunshine. As we scrambled out, blinking and disoriented, Cerk paid a minor fortune to the cart driver, who then summoned up a taxi-van for us.
Standing on the steps by the taxi rank, the air felt hot, overlaid with all sorts of dirtside stenches you don’t usually encounter in space unless the cycling section has shorted out.
I’m really here. On Earth. Mother Earth…
“C’mon. Let’s go and freshen up. We’re staying close by.” Cerk broke through my slack- jawed musing, all brisk practicality, as he ordered the driver to take us to a nearby freight storage facility, and then onto the hotel he’d selected for our stay. In no time flat, we’d offloaded Wynn’s crates and I was fervently looking forward to the chance to shed the gown and veil for time spent under a long shower.
When we drew up outside the Clarkesville Hilton though, I shook my head. “Nah. This is exactly where Eddy will expect to find us. Let’s not make this too easy for him.” I leaned forward, and asked the driver in slow careful Shinese, “Can you find us somewhere clean and cheap?”
He turned to Cerk and said in fast Trader, “Thought you said they was cred-lined. I’ve gone out’ve my way to stash all their crap safely and now they’re looking to cut corners.” He spat out of the window. “Flooding priests! Aller same, so they are.”
“We’ll double your tip if you find us what we’re looking for,” I replied in Trader.
He spun his seat round to face me. “For truth?”
“For truth.” I added the Trader hand sig for trustme.
He sketched the gesture okaydeal, before spinning his chair forwards, again. We trundled along a maze of roadways while the driver elected to be our guide, pointing out buildings he thought we’d find interesting, which proved to be mostly growing stations, greenhouses and parks…
He got less chatty and grumpier when I vetoed his next choice, which was a security nightmare. Situated over a nightclub and flanked by restaurants, there would be no way to monitor who was coming and going.
“We need somewhere quieter,” I added.
“Why didn’t you say so firstoff!” He drew away with an ill-tempered jerk of the controls, but soon settled back into guide mode. And when he stopped at the next place, I was a lot happier as Cerk pulled up its spec on the taxi’s tabscreen. It was an ornate building fallen on hard times, surrounded by an expanse of battered looking bushes and churned up dirt that used to be an ornamental garden, apparently. Its downward slide started when it became the headquarters for one of the warring factions, and after peace broke out, there weren’t the creds or surviving family members to restore the building to its former glory. There was only one entrance to the street, other than the fire escapes and two service exits. Not ideal, but better than anything else we’d seen.
We were preparing to get out, when Cerk fiddled with the com and muttered under his breath, “We’ve got one more stop to make, first. Just around the corner. Literally.”
Before I had a chance to object, he turned to the driver. “We’re gonna swing by Farview Imports. On Hope Parade.”
Wynn’s head snapped round. “Farview Imports? They’re—ˮ
“We’ve clocked up thirty-three creds, so far,” interrupted the driver.
What! “That seems a lot for a shortish ride.”
The driver flung up his hands. “And that’s what always happens with you starsuckers – a whole lot of squalling about paying a fair rate!”
Cerk leaned forward. “It’s smooth. We’re good for it. And the tip.” He turned to me. “A lot’ve prices on Earth are way higher than you’re used to. Travelling’s one of them.”
“In that case, my apologies. No insult intended,” I said to the driver, before rounding on Cerk, “And if it’s going to cost half a week’s wages every time he starts up this vehicle, mind telling me why we’re off on yet another jaunt to some obscure import business?”
“About that importer—ˮ started Wynn.
Cerk ignored him, as he answered, “Because one of the partners in that business is Abigail Vera Wright. Less than a five-minute journey away.”
The taxi tilted as a rush of emotions cascaded. Emotions I’d pushed in a box when I’d – finally – come to terms with the fact I’d lost my family forever. And this long journey had been so full of incident and adventure, I’d had no time to actually think about what I’d say or do when I finally met Mum. We’d never been all that close and the last time I’d seen her, I’d screamed that I never wanted to wear my eyes out on her ever again.
She’s probably still furious – she never was the forgiving kind. I mentally discounted the interview where she claimed to be proud of me. Mum was good at putting on a show for the outside world. But given the threat Eddy posed, there was no choice.
“Let’s go,” I croaked.
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
The exterior of Farview Importers – scruffy sign, battered, military-beige coloured door and dented tuf-paned windows – belied the showroom. Which stretched ahead invitingly in a golden glow of camo lighting and mood-carpeted flooring, with each piece of artwork set up for holo viewings to any buyer in Homespace, judging by the hefty projectors. My attention was snagged by a familiar sculpture, as I skidded to a halt in front of it. And then looked around more carefully at the works, rather than the scenery, before spinning round to Wynn.
Who flung his hands in the air, his robe billowing around his legs. “I’ve been trying to tell you! Those bods on Earth who’re majorly into my work? It’s this place—ˮ
“Good afternoon. And before you ask – no, we have no imported plants for you to inspect. As I believe I told your companions only a handful of days ago.”
Still reeling from the shock of being surrounded by Wynn’s sculptures, I stared at the assistant accosting us. Yes, it was him, even if he was a tad stouter than the last time I’d seen him. “Lnard?”
“Who wants to know?”
I stammered, my fancy accent blown to the edges of the galaxy as my past ambushed me, “You were on Star – their Procurement Officer…” My immediate boss. A solidly good bloke. What’s he doing on Earth?
“I know that voice,” he muttered, wide-eyed, before calling into his com, “Abi? You need to come here.”
I braced myself to meet Mum, gripping the staff like it was a lifeline.
“I can’t, Lin, I’m feeding the baby,” the exasperated voice was all too familiar.
I’d hoped the move to Earth would’ve allowed Mum to break free from the prison that was her life on New London. Clearly that hadn’t happened, with yet another baby.
Lnard hadn’t taken his eyes off me. “Come on. She’s been eating her heart out over what happened ʼtween the pair’ve you.”
And there goes the disguise. But then, Lnard is sharp enough to cut dark matter. I followed him through the showroom, trying not to hyperventilate. For my own sanity, I’d locked down all thoughts of Mum long ago. However as we threaded around an obstacle course of pictures, holographs, sculptures, phagescapes and collages, I wished I hadn’t. What do I say to her?
He slid his hand across the palmreader, while I noted the worn pad, relatively flimsy door and locking device, leading to the rest of the building. We’ll have that upgraded by the end of tomorrow.
Reclining on a comfy-looking sofa in a
cosy room, she was cuddling a small bundle attached to her breast. With flushed cheeks and clear, sparkling eyes, cooing at the baby, she was heartstoppingly beautiful. And I understood for the first time why Norman had snagged with her. He always had an eye for the best of everything.
“Abi?” Lnard’s voice was soft.
Where’s the Cap? Though it wasn’t a surprise he was absent. He didn’t mind babies – in fact he loved them and was always willing to push a pram or swing a laughing infant over his head. Before handing it back at lightspeed whenever it cried, needed feeding or changing.
Mum looked up, the smile on her face freezing as she took in my robe and veil. She scowled at Lnard. “Really, Lin? While I’m actually feeding the baby? Show her the door!”
“It’s no priestess.” Lnard took my arm. “This here’s Lizzy…”
“Mother Earth above! Elizabeth? Really, it’s you?” Her hand flew to her mouth, while her gaze burned holes in my soul.
“Yeah.”
“We’ve been so worried! There’s a galaxy-wide search going on for you. I thought there’d been some scuzzy merc powerplay and you’d been offed in their leadership scuffles…” Tears poured down her face and the baby – given how the canteen had gone offline – started howling.
“Hey, it’s smooth.” Lnard sat down alongside my mother, put an arm around her shoulders and gently brushed away her tears, as she reattached the baby.
What! “Does the Cap know about you two?” I demanded.
Mum’s chin went up. “Yes. And before you start in, know that I’ve heard it all from Jake. How I’ve smirched the family name with ‘my disgraceful act of adultery’ was how he put it. John refused to grant me a divorce, so I’m gonna have to wait.” She shrugged. “And the baby didn’t.”
“Are you happy?” Stupid question – I’ve never seen her look this radiant.
She leaned into Lnard and as they exchanged a brief grin, I felt a rush of thankfulness for Wynn’s declaration earlier, or I’d have been eaten up with jealous misery.
“So the answer is clearly ‘yes’. Have you stopped drinking?”
