by G J Ogden
Ethan looked at Maria, his face white, a sudden coldness creeping across his skin.
“They are coming, I have to stop them!” said Maria, and she started running back down the central aisle of the ship.
“Sal, wait!” Ethan shouted after her, but she did not stop. Ethan ran down the aisle after her, catching her at the docking hatch.
“What are you doing?” she said, crossly. “You have to strap yourself in, now!”
“Come with me!” said Ethan, holding out his hand to her.
“What?” Maria said. “No, Ethan, you know I can’t…”
“We can work it out, Sal!” Ethan pleaded. “We can start again, on the planet!”
A violent mechanical buzz resonated down the umbilical, and an alarm sounded. Maria knew that the UEC soldiers would soon have cut through the first hatch, but she did not tell Ethan. She realised this would be her last chance to speak to him, before he left her, forever.
“Ethan, I’m sorry I lied to you!” Maria said, tears welling in her eyes. “When I met you, it was just a mission, I was just doing what I thought was right. I didn’t want to lie to you, but everything moved so fast, and soon there was no way back!” Maria choked back tears, and Ethan instinctively moved closer to offer comfort, but Maria held her arm outstretched to hold him away. “I wish I could change what I did, but I can’t. I wish we could be together, but we can’t. All I can do now is get you home, to where you belong.”
Ethan shook his head. “I belong with you, Sal. We can start again. Come with me!” he begged, his eyes wet. He reached for her, and this time caught her by the waist and pulled her against him. Their lips met and they kissed, deeply and passionately. When their lips eventually parted, they rested against each other, foreheads touching.
“I love you,” said Maria, tenderly, “which is why I have to do this.” She put her hands on Ethan’s chest and pushed with all her strength. He fell backwards into the ship, and landed heavily. Winded, it took him several seconds to get back to his feet, and by that time, Maria was on the other side of the hatch, and the hatch door was swinging shut.
“Sal, NO!” Ethan yelled. He ran to the hatch and tried to pull it open, but it was impossible. It slid shut with a heavy thud and he heard the bolts hammer into place – thud, thud, thud. The outer hatch closed next. He could see Maria through the glass porthole, looking at him from the other side. She reached across to something out of view and Ethan heard a comlink crackle open.
“I wish I could come with you,” said Maria. “I wish we could start over, I truly do. But, I got you into this, and I have to make it right. Forgive me, Ethan.”
“Maria, open the door, there’s still time!” begged Ethan, hammering on the hatch with his fists.
Maria stood calmly, eyes locked on Ethan’s. “Tell Elijah I said hello,” she said softly. Then the comlink crackled off. Ethan screamed at Maria through the porthole, but she could not hear him.
She moved over to the glass panel next to the comlink and smashed it with the butt of her pistol. Inside was a red lever, marked ‘Emergency Docking Detach’. She pulled hard on it and a succession of tiny explosions severed the connection between the warship and the umbilical. She moved back to the window and looked out as the hulk of metal slowly pulled away under its own power. Behind her, she heard, and felt, the heavy crash of the docking ring door smashing into the deck, and knew she had only a few seconds. She pressed a hand to the window. “Goodbye, Ethan.”
The giant warship’s engines burned brightly, accelerating the arrow-shaped craft through space, aimed directly towards the planet, with one passenger on board.
chapter 27
For a long time after the warship had detached from the dock and started its automatic course back to the planet, Ethan had sat, slumped against the hatchway. The throb of the engines resonating through his bones was the only sensation he felt; every other sense was numb and cold. Time had stopped for him, and in his mind, all he could see was the hatch closing with Maria on the other side, and himself unable to reach her in time, as if some invisible force was holding him back. It was like a nightmare, only he wasn’t asleep.
Eventually, he forced himself to stand, but he felt unsteady and weak. A deep sadness overwhelmed him. Not only sorrow at the loss of Maria, though this pre-occupied his mind the most, but also a sadness at leaving, knowing that nothing had changed between GPS and the UEC. His naive hopes of a benevolent and wise pre-Fall civilisation that had simply met with some unfortunate, but ultimately non-malicious end had been crushed by Maria back on the planet. But there was still the hope that by helping Maria, he could also do some good; that he could make a difference. But it had all been lies.
He had seen a glimmer of hope in Diana and Maria’s choice to throw aside their differences and work with common purpose. It was as a sign that perhaps these two old enemies could move beyond the hate of the past; that deliverance was possible. But Diana too may also now have been lost, and perhaps all hope of redemption faded with her. As for himself, he was saved, and for this he felt guilt and shame. The Planetsider who, through his arrogance and selfish pursuit of his own desires, had been moulded into a tool that almost brought forth the destruction of an entire civilisation. He knew he wasn’t to blame, but his part in it was undeniable, and something he would have to live with, if he ever made it back alive.
More time passed and the blue orb grew larger and brighter through the cockpit glass. Ethan could feel the increasing pressures on his body and the growing strain on the massive hulk that contained him, as it creaked and shuddered onward. Fear and the instinct for self-preservation overrode his grief, shaking him from his near catatonic state. He fought against the intensifying forces to reach the front of the ship and sat in one of the chairs, pulling the straps down and across his chest, buckling them just above his navel. In front of him was an array of dials, numbers and flashing lights. The control column moved by itself, as if controlled by an invisible pilot. Above the array of dials, the window was filled with the planet, and Ethan could now clearly make out huge continents and smaller islands. It was almost incomprehensibly vast, and Ethan appreciated for the first time just how small and precious their tiny pocket of civilisation was, and how little of this world he actually knew. Were there other settlements in other parts of this planet, like his, he wondered? Or was their settlement, and the small network of settlements nearby, really all that remained of the Planetside population?
His thoughts were interrupted by a buzzing sound coming from one of the large screens on the console. It showed a flashing red dot to the lower left, slowly getting closer to the centre of the screen. Streaks of light flashed by on his left and then disappeared into the bright haze of the planet. He looked back, trying to identify a source. At first he could only see the tiny outline of the space station, but then he saw movement, and more flashes sped past, this time closer. He tried to loosen his seat buckles to get a better view and then he saw it, snaking in and out of view. It was another ship, the same configuration as the one he saw explode next to Maria on the moon base. It was the UEC. Ethan felt helpless. He could do nothing. He sat back and looked out ahead. Flames now obscured his view of the planet, and were expanding along the side windows too. The cabin was filled with a deafening roar. Another streak of light flashed past and then he felt a hard jolt. Alarms sounded in the cabin. He looked to the rear and saw a smouldering black circle next to the docking hatch. The ship had been hit. The flames continued to grow, and two more streaks of light flashed past, barely visible through the inferno. More alarms sounded. He gripped the arms of the chair tightly and stared ahead into the wall of fire.
There was nothing he could do now but wait. Perhaps, he had never really been in control of this journey. But it no longer mattered whether it was his own irrational desires, or the manipulations of those around him that had brought him to this point; he was here now, and whatever will be, will be.
He felt strangely calm. He closed his eyes and shu
t out the noise, the vibrations, and the fear. Outside, the ship was plunging through the planet’s atmosphere, but inside, Ethan was peacefully oblivious. He pictured Maria standing on the other side of the docking hatch, hand held up at the glass, becoming smaller and smaller until he could no longer make out her face or even her outline. He pictured Katie in the bakery, making her amber biscuits, and Elijah lurking nearby, waiting to steal one. He pictured Summer, laughing and joking with him out in the fields and valleys around the settlement, beautiful, confident and free. And he pictured his favourite place under the old tree, on the mound outside the settlements walls. And then he was there, lying on the dirt and staring up into the night sky as a solitary streak of light flashed overhead.
chapter 28
Ethan awoke still strapped into the chair at the front of the ship. The glass around the cockpit was smashed, and the consoles were fizzing and sparking, emitting crackles of blue energy. There was a smell of burning all around him.
He unbuckled the harness, pushed himself upright and checked himself quickly all over. He felt some pain around where the harness had been fastened, and his neck was a little stiff, but otherwise he was remarkably unharmed. He fanned some of the smoke away from his face, stepped closer to the smashed cockpit screen, and then managed a weak smile. Instead of space or the cold, metallic surroundings of a space station, there were rolling, green hills, and above them, a hazy blue sky. It was either dusk, or approaching dawn, Ethan had no idea which. He climbed onto the console and pushed himself out, through the now empty window frames, and breathed in deeply. The air smelled fresh and vibrant and alive.
From his vantage point, Ethan looked back and saw that the ship had gouged a deep ravine through the valley and had eventually come to rest by partially burying itself in the side of a steep hill, the soft earth cushioning the impact. Ethan could also see a jagged hole in the rear section of the ship, presumably where it had been hit by the UEC's attacks. It was burnt black and still smouldering dangerously.
He walked across the nose of the ship and jumped off onto the hill. The soft ground felt strange and was a stark contrast to the solid metal flooring that he had become used to. He manoeuvred himself down the side of the hill, stumbling several times, so that he had to steady himself with his hands. The feel of the cold dirt beneath his fingers was reassuring. It felt real.
At the foot of the hill, he took stock of his surroundings. Certainly, none of the features of the landscape were familiar to him; the ship had crashed somewhere he’d never been before. But then, there were many directions in which he’d never ventured that far from the settlement, and so he could still be quite close. Or he could be on the other side of the planet; he had no way of knowing.
In a clearing down in the valley a few hundred metres ahead he spotted what looked like fabric, billowing in the gentle wind. He walked over, feeling the breeze in his hair, and discovered a cluster of metal containers, attached to the fabric by thin white wires. Written on the containers were the words ‘Disaster Pod’ and above this was the UEC logo. Ethan assumed they had been automatically jettisoned by the ship during the crash, as part of some sort of automated emergency procedure, or had simply fallen from one of the many breaches in the warship’s arrow-like body. One of the containers was split open. Ethan looked inside and found that it contained supplies – a mixture of clothing, bags, food and tools. One of the packs contained bandages and a wallet housing seven of the small medical injectors that Ethan had become all too familiar with, plus a collection of blue and yellow capsules. He shuddered at the memory of these injections, placed the wallet back in the container, and instead searched for some sort of outer-wear. The space station had been as artificially warm as the moon base, but now he was back on the planet, exposed to the wind and the elements, he was feeling cold. He found a jacket that looked sturdy and well made. On the right shoulder was a patch with an embroidered UEC emblem on it. He tore off the patch, discarded it in the dirt and stood on it, pushing it down into the black soil with the heel of his boot. For some reason, this felt good. Slipping on the jacket he then packed as much food and water as he could into one of the large backpacks, and slung it over his shoulder.
The ship continued to crackle and spark behind him, and a giant plume of black smoke was rising from the crash site. He climbed part-way up a nearby hill overlooking it and saw that the vessel was now on fire, flames enveloping the rear, steadily creeping forward. He remembered how violently the ship on the deck of the moon base exploded, and realised that he should start to put some distance between himself and the wreckage. But, despite this, he remained for several minutes more, watching the ship burn. It was comforting to him to know that this instrument of destruction was now safely out of the hands of the UEC. It was now just another burnt and destroyed relic of the war. It seemed fitting that it would finally come to rest on the planet; just one more to add to the collection of charred remains from a failed civilisation. Soon the flames grew fiercer, and Ethan’s sense of danger compelled him to leave for fear of being caught in the blast, should the ship explode. Looking around he picked a direction at random and started walking.
It felt good to be outside again; to feel the cool breeze on his face and the soft earth under his feet, but the additional pull of gravity compared to the base and space station, plus general weariness, made walking a struggle. And on top of the added physical weight, he also walked with a heavy heart. Away from the stresses and dangers he had faced on the moon base and space station, his mind was free to wander and Ethan found himself focusing again on Maria. He knew that she only meant to save him, to try to make amends for what she had done, but without her he felt empty. The planet, despite its comforting familiarity, no longer felt like his home. He had meant what he said to Maria about them starting a new life together, but Ethan understood now that he needed this as much for himself as for Maria. He couldn’t go back to the life he had; he had learned and experienced too much to simply go back to how things were. Without Maria he was stuck in a limbo. He quickened his pace, trying to drum her out of his mind, but he could not do it. He didn’t even know if she was alive or dead, not that it mattered; he would never see her again, and the realisation of this was now striking him hard. He felt the wetness of tears on his cheeks, but pushed on harder, trying to drive the images out of his head, trying to stamp them out with each faster and more laboured step. But it was no use, and eventually he collapsed to his knees, consumed with grief and fatigue, and buried his head in his hands, sobbing freely.
Soon the sun started to edge over the horizon, and Ethan was bathed in a warm, golden light that made him look up, and shield his eyes. The beauty of the sunrise was a welcome tonic that worked to relax and invigorate him, as if the sun’s rays contained the power to cleanse the soul. Ethan knew it wouldn’t last, but for now it felt good, and so he remained on his knees and let the glow wash over him like an ocean wave.
“Good morning,” he said out loud to the rising sun.
“Good morning to you, too,” a cheery voice replied.
Startled, Ethan span around, and moved to a low crouch, ready to push off and run. But then he saw an old man sitting beside a rock about ten metres away, and he dropped back down to his knees with a relieved sigh.
“Sorry!” the man shouted. “Didn’t mean to scare you, young man!”
The hermit was almost as dirty and weather-beaten as the rock itself, which had the effect of creating a natural camouflage. On his back was a giant pack that jutted out above head height and looked to be almost half his size. He was also wearing a huge coat, with more pockets than Ethan could count, and he wondered idly what could possibly be in them all. Even more of a wonder was how this man managed to move at all, given how much he was carrying.
With an elaborate groan, the hermit inelegantly pushed himself to his feet, and then almost fell backwards against the rock, letting it take the weight of his enormous backpack. Ethan stood up, and brushed the dirt off his knees. “It’s
okay,” he said. “I just didn’t know you were here.”
“Aha, well that’s a skill I’ve developed over a long period of time, young lad,” the old man replied. “When you’re an old hermit like me, it helps to know how to stay out of sight.”
“I’m sure,” said Ethan, managing to crack a feeble smile. Then, feeling a little self-conscious, he added, “How long have you been there?”
“If you mean, did I see you sobbing into your hands like a man who’s just found out his wife has run off with the blacksmith, then yes, I’m afraid to admit I’ve been here for long enough,” the hermit said, with a bubbly mischievousness that made it impossible for Ethan to feel embarrassed.
“Oh,” said Ethan. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”
“No apology necessary, lad. Happens to the best of us,” the hermit replied. “So, was it the blacksmith or the baker?”
Despite everything, this made Ethan laugh. “It’s… a little more complicated than that,” he said, as he walked over to where the hermit was resting against the rock.
“It always is, lad,” replied the Hermit, sagely. “So, what weighs so heavy on your mind that you would find yourself out here at such a low ebb?”
Ethan smiled. “You wouldn’t believe me, even if I told you.”
The hermit’s eyes widened, “Ah, don’t be so sure, my young friend,” he said, knowingly, “But I don’t think what troubles you is quite so hard to understand. I have seen that look before. You lost something, and now you’re lost too.” Now it was Ethan’s eyes that widened, betraying his surprise at the hermit’s intuition. “You don’t survive to be as old as me without losing a few things along the way,” the hermit added with a warm smile, but also a sombre tone.
“Losing something means there’s a chance of finding it again,” said Ethan, lowering his gaze. “What I’ve lost, I can never get back. And now I don’t think I belong here anymore.”
