Diary of the Displaced Box Set

by Glynn James

  :: Record Date 13:04:4787 17:21

  I couldn’t resist. I had to go and find out. But I knew it would be awkward with Aaron, and I was right.

  Aaron and me, we’ve been friends since I was little Since, well, back when my mother was still around. We went to Little School together, until I was sent off to the orphanage when my mother died. If she died. I didn’t see him much for a couple of years, because I did the rest of my Little School at the orphanage and it was fifteen miles across the city from the old place, but then we both hit passing age – that’s when you’re twelve – and I met him on induction day at the parade grounds. Everybody attends induction day, and everybody has to at least apply for basic military training, so it was kind of inevitable that we’d meet again sometime. Of course, I was on compulsory enlistment, thanks to Colonel Samlin’s intervention, so doing just basic training wasn’t an option for me. I was there to become an Outrider. It was long-term enlistment or the quarry for me.

  We spent the next five years in training together, even in the same classes most of the time, but when I graduated into Outrider training at seventeen, Aaron didn’t. Months of our early training went by, and I noticed that Aaron wasn’t keeping up with the physical side. Don’t get me wrong, he was still pretty tough, and could hold his own, but he wasn’t hitting the grades to get into Outriders, where we both wanted to be. For me it was an absolute must. JH had led the Outriders, though I don’t think he ever had a title. My grandfather, Andre, had been a major, my mother a captain, my great grandmother and my grandmother were also officers. If I didn’t make it in, I didn’t know what I would do. I was expected to get in.

  But that wasn’t the case for Aaron. His folks were merchant quarter, even though his mother had been an Outrider at one time, and that meant that he had options outside the military.

  That kinda put a wedge between us that I don’t think ever went away. When I left for Outrider Basecamp, which is right up in the north of the city boundary, an easy thirty miles from the city centre, Aaron headed back into Evac central and took up training in the Admin section. I only saw him every now and then, maybe a couple of times a year. Outriders very rarely have reason to be at the Evac City centre, and Admin usually don’t go anywhere but there.

  I always thought he’d go for mechanical division, so it was a surprise to me that he chose Admin. I think maybe his family had something to do with that, but it was a shame. Aaron was obsessed with motorbikes and other off-road vehicles. I think it kinda ran in the family. Anyway, he went for Admin in the end, and I saw very little of him over the next few years.

  So when me and my crew hauled in the computer system we’d salvaged a few years ago, I got to catch up with him again. They had us help them set it up, along with a power system we rigged to some solar panels we’d stored at the Basecamp a year before. I got to know Aaron again, at least a little. But it was never the same. Don’t know if he resents me or something, but I suspect as much.

  That probably sounds big-headed, but I don’t mean it to be.

  Anyway, Aaron works in the roster office, keeping track of troop numbers, recruitment, and all that, and that also includes keeping records of those who are KIA. They keep all that info on the computer system we helped set up.

  So, earlier today, I walked in there and just asked him, and he looked over his shoulder, as though trying not to draw anybody else’s attention.

  “I’m not supposed to give out any details of anyone to another person, Con,” he said. But he looked uncomfortable, undecided.

  “It’s my mum, Aaron,” I said. “You must have something in there.”

  He looked at me, then started tapping on the keyboard.

  “Not necessarily,” he said. “Records from before the installation was set up haven’t all been entered. What was her first name again? Sorry, I’ve forgotten it.”

  “Eleanor,” I said. “Eleanor Abegail Halldon.”

  More tapping.

  “Okay this is weird,” he said, frowning.

  “What?” I asked. “What’s weird?”

  He shook his head, confused. “Well there’s a record on here for her, and it says…sorry…KIA,” he said.

  “Yeah,” I said. “We already know that bit. Does it say anything else? What’s weird?”

  “Most of the data is missing.”

  “Like what?” I asked.

  “Like the location, and the cause of death, and the burial place.”

  “But I know where she is buried,” I said. “She’s over in the cemetery out in the plains.”

  He was shaking his head. “No. You’re missing my point. I’ve put enough of these details on here, Con. When you get to the screen for filling in this stuff, you can’t save it or leave the screen if you don’t fill in all the required details. You have to complete it properly, with all fields filled in, or abandon the input.”

  My turn to be confused. “What does that mean?”

  “It means that the location of death, and cause, and about ten other boxes, weren’t filled in, or they were cleared. The person who put your mum’s record on here somehow didn’t fill in all the info.”

  “But that can’t be right?” I said. “You said they can’t do that.”

  Aaron nodded. “Exactly my point. They had to have got rid of it afterwards.”

  “Someone changed it? Why would they do that?”

  “I think, maybe… Look, I don’t know. The system doesn’t say who changes anything – we never got the user-specific stuff worked out. Everybody uses the same sign-in, apart from the maintenance techs. And they use the admin password, or something.”

  “I see. So there is no indication of where she died?”

  “None. Sorry, Con.”

  “It’s okay.”

  I was ready to leave, and gave him a squeeze on the shoulder, about to say thanks for looking, but then his eyes went wide.

  “Wait. There’s a lot more here,” he said.

  “What? More what?”

  “I’m just looking,” he said, squinting at the screen. “There’s this file section that can be attached to an entry on the system, and usually there is nothing in there unless someone higher up wants to put notes on record. Sometimes there’s file or two, but your ma’s got hundreds of files…”

  “What?” I asked, unable to hide the impatience in my voice.

  “There’s hundreds and hundreds of files in here, and they are all marked…” He tapped the keyboard a few more times. “HiSec,” he said. “Oh crap.”

  Aaron tapped one of the keys repeatedly and then looked at me, his face turning a little pale.

  “What?” I asked. “What’s wrong?”

  He was shaking his head. “That’s secret stuff from the very top, Con,” he said. “I can’t look at it.”

  “What do you mean, you can’t?” I asked.

  “It won’t let me. And even if it did, I shouldn’t be looking there. I can get in a lot of trouble for snooping into HiSec stuff.”

  But I didn’t need more from Aaron. I knew that already, and I certainly wasn’t going to get angry at him. He’d stuck his neck out far enough already, by looking at someone else’s files for me, and if caught, he would already be in trouble.

  “It’s okay, buddy. Thanks for looking.”

  We chatted for a while about old times before we said our goodbyes and I left. I was itching to get away, even though I had no direction to go in.

  Aaron thought he’d let me down – I know that much by the way he was acting – but he hadn’t. The mere fact that there were hundreds of secret files on my mother’s record, all high security locked, and that a lot of her details were missing or deleted, said everything that I needed to know.

  Something was being hidden from me. There were secrets about my mother’s death that someone didn’t want anyone to know.

  If she was even dead.

  She may not be dead at all.

  My mother may still be alive somewhere.

  But where?


  Where do I go from here?

  :: Record Date 14:04:4787 16:08

  I need to get into that computer system, and I need to do it without Aaron or anybody else’s help. I do wonder if the password I used when we helped set the machines up still works.

  But how the hell do I get at the computer?

  There could be so much information in those files that Aaron found, so much that I don't know anything about, but getting at them is the real problem. I can't risk going through Aaron again. He could already be in trouble, if it was discovered that he was looking, and I don’t want to cause him any more problems than I may have already.

  When we originally helped set up and repair the system, there was no one guarding it. It was low security. They never thought – well, I don't think any of us thought – that it would be used for anything, or be as useful as it became, but now the facility is locked down. There’s no way I could get inside, even though I was one of the original people that set it up, even if the password did still work. Getting at the terminal was the problem. Getting in there without being caught? I certainly don't have clearance to be poking around.

  It's been going over and over in my mind, troubling me. Part of me really wants to know, wants to see what's in those files, but the other part thinks they may not lead me to where my mother is – or was.

  I need another approach. There has to be something else.

  I need to think about this.

  :: Record Date 21:04:4787 19:25

  So it’s been a week since I last switched this thing on, but at least I’ve been carrying it with me. Right now I’m out on another tech salvage op, same world as before, and we’re camped up on the top of a ravine. I flipped for night watch so I’m up here on the lookout platform. I don’t know why I took this recorder out. I guess I’m just feeling a little lonely.

  Everyone else is asleep.

  :: Note Function Accessed

  :: Exit menu

  Damn. What the hell is that? Stupid recorder must be playing up. Oh. It’s still recording. Note section? I didn’t even know this thing could take notes.

  :: Note Function Accessed

  :: Note Saved

  :: Recall Note Function Accessed

  :: Note Display

  [Does this really work?]

  :: Exit Menu

  Wait a minute…

  :: Note Function Accessed

  :: Note List Function Accessed

  Note1 Record Date 05:05:4775 12:36

  Note2 Record Date 21:04:4787 23:45

  That first one is…twelve years old.

  :: Note Function Accessed

  :: Note List Function Accessed

  :: Note2 Selected

  :: Display Note Recording Attachment

  :: Playback

  Conman. This is your mum.

  :: Playback halted

  :: Note Function Accessed

  :: Note Display

  [52.298717, -0.682086]

  What the…? The note was left the same time my mother left me the message.

  Mum. You left me a hidden note?

  What do those numbers mean?

  :: Record Date 23:04:4787 18:35

  They’re coordinates, longitude and latitude. I can’t believe it took me two days to figure that out. I’ve been busy with the tech salvage op, I know, but I should have recognised numbers like that straight away, we use them all the time. I’m going to have to presume that they are coordinates on our home world, where Evac City is. There’s no indication of them being on another world, otherwise there would be a world designation number in front of the coordinates.

  Damn, it’s going to be at least another three weeks before I get enough time off to go and investigate. I estimate that the coords are roughly a hundred and fifty miles out of Evac City. I just need to dust off the Roughrider trike and hope that it’s still working ok. I haven’t ridden that thing for at least three years, but I can’t use my Outrider quad. They’d notice the missing fuel.

  I’m sure the old thing’s still sitting with its cover on in the garage.

  I really hope I put the cover on it.

  Anyway, I know it’s out of fuel. I remember running it dead, that last time I used it, but the battery should be fine, since it’s hooked up to the solar panel on the roof, and I have enough credit to get more fuel. I have four days off in three weeks, and I can make it the hundred and fifty miles in maybe five hours. It’s due north, I know that much from a rough guess, but that will mean heading over the Dustlands, and that will slow me down a bit.

  Maybe six or seven hours, then.

  What if I can’t make it back the same day? Damn it. I’m going to need to haul out my old sleeping bag. I know it has holes in it, and if where I’m going is in open Dustlands then it could get nasty. The Roughrider has a roll cage that covers the cab, and shutters that can be pulled over to seal it up so that nothing can get at me while I sleep, but there are still gaps for the dust to get in, and that stuff can clog up the inside and screw with the electrics.

  Something’s been bothering me since I saw the coordinates. There’s nothing but rocks, dust and ruins out that way. There’s some old ruined industrial complexes around the area, but they’re centuries old and have long since been scoured clean. They haven’t been occupied…well, ever, I think. And other than those it’s almost completely barren out there. If my mum was out there, what was she doing?

  Wait…maybe she was testing something out there that needed a lot of open space?

  This is going to drive me crazy, thinking about it.

  I have to go there, even if all I find is desert. There may be something, some sign that she was there. There has to be. Why else would she put the coordinates into the recorder, if there wasn’t something out there to discover?

  :: Record Date 30:04:4787 15:11

  I’m home from another salvage op, and this one ended early, so I have half a day free to go through stuff. The Roughrider is still in working order, though it jumps a bit when started up. I guess that dust sheet hasn’t kept it completely covered all this time. I’ll need to clean it out but I don’t want to start that today.

  I did find my spare sleeping bag, and it looks ok. Well, it’s a bit battered and worn. It has been a number of years since it was used and it was old when I got it. I don’t want to use any of my issue gear in case I lose it. I don’t have the cash to replace any losses and they never replace anything that isn’t lost on an operation.

  Got my old rucksack out and emptied all the crap out of it. I can’t believe I didn’t do that when I got my new one. I should probably have traded it back at Basecamp for a few credits, but I’m glad I never did. It’s so much more comfortable to wear than the Outrider issue one that replaced it.

  My mum got me this rucksack.

  It even has my name sewn into it. I don’t think I ever noticed that. She must have done it herself, by hand.

  :: Record Date 30:04:4787 15:28

  Okay. Get a grip of yourself.

  I’ve done the math, and I think that if I can make good time I can get there and have two whole days to recon the area and try to find whatever is out there. I suspect I won’t find much, the dust surely will have covered everything up after this many years, but I’ve got to try.

  I’m struggling to remember why I called my Roughrider Toby, but can’t seem to recall it. Also can’t believe I managed to ride the thing when I was only eight. It’s huge. Much too big for a kid.

  So, two weeks from now.

  :: Record Date 15:05:4787 10:42

  Well, this it.

  The last two weeks have been awful. This whole thing has been driving me crazy, but now I’m back at my tiny little hovel in north Evac and I have four days to myself. Four days of no one expecting me to be anywhere. It should hopefully be plenty of time. Even though I’m itching to get out there, and find out what could possibly be at the coords my mother left me, I also seem to be doing everything I possibly can to not get started. I could have h
eaded out this afternoon, but I wanted to go over all my gear one last time before I did.

  I’m stalling. Why?

  Even though I know it’s all ready. Hell, I’ve been prepping for this for the last three weeks, at least the few days that I’ve been home, and I even headed out here for a few nights instead of staying at the barracks in Basecamp, just so that I could go through my checklist and sort out more gear.

  I’ve got all the provisions I need for a longer stay, though I have no intention of not making it back in time for roll-call in five days’ time. I’ve got plenty of repair supplies if the Roughrider breaks and enough fuel for double the trip.

  So it’s all good.

  I’m ready. I guess. No time to waste.

  Except it’s me that’s not ready. I have everything I need and still I’m having second thoughts about going. I don’t know why. You’d think, after all these years, that a sign that my mother may not be dead, and that there may be clues out there, would have me rushing to get there. Something is niggling in my mind, telling me not to go, and I don’t know what it is.

  I even have the grid location programmed into a tracker I got from the overstock store so that I can get the exact spot. It needed fixing, but that was no problem. They always dump broken stuff at the overstock building, out near the Junkyard, and most of it doesn’t need a lot of work to get it going. I always did find a lot of cool stuff there.

  I already said all that.

  First thing in the morning, I’m out of here.

  :: Record Date 16:05:4787 06:21

  So I hit the edge of Evac City just a few minutes ago. Yes, I stopped messing about and got going. I took a long turn around the east side, mainly to avoid going anywhere near Basecamp. If I headed out that way I’d get distracted, and I know I’d waste a day, somehow. I’m testing this recorder as I travel, just to see how well it records with all the background noise from the engine and the road. If it works, I may even try to mount the thing on my headset. It’s small enough, and having it hang there, right next to where the ops radio is, would make it much easier for me to use it.