Generation 7

by Ross Richdale

  But we need to do something, Graham added. Even The Haven is only a temporary arrangement. I wouldn't want another seven generations to be stuck on that small piece of land surrounded by enemy wanting to kill our species off.

  I know, Holly shrugged and gazed out at the ocean below. To think, our ancestors flew light years across space with their lives depending on their machines. If anything went wrong now...

  FanWarrior aircraft have a ninety nine point three four percent efficiency ranking, Plato cut into the conversation. Of the three thousand four hundred and fifteen built on Planet Earth at the time of my memory file, only one had crashed causing a loss of life. Sixteen others had minor problems that necessitated returning to the point of departure.

  Thanks, Plato, I am reassured, Holly answered and returned to her original conversation. It's just that I don't think I want to leave my home and travel across a void to a place that probably want us even less than the crucks do.

  What about us? Jaddig replied in a soft voice.

  Holly flushed. I'm sorry, Jaddig. I didn't mean to be so self-centered.

  You aren't. Here, have a cup of Coffifake, Bikut cur into the conversation, smiled and handed a steaming mug across to the pilot.

  She had fussed around the tiny kitchen unit at the back of the cabin for the last fifteen minutes and a pile of sandwiches had made. Like Jaddig, she was relaxed and confident while the humans appeared as nervous as Holly felt.

  Bikut turned and noticed Clay's white face. Are you sure you're a warm blooded creature? she teased and held a plate out. Here, have a sandwich.

  Thanks, Clay chuckled and reached for one. I'm glad the proctor let you and Jaddig come.

  Yeah, Bikut laughed. I don't know how you humans managed before we turned up to look after you.

  They both stopped and listened as Plato's voice once again filled the cabin. Estimated time of arrival at Alpha Base is eighteen minutes. Weather conditions are fine with no wind, a ten percent cloud cover and a ground temperature of twenty eight degrees Celsius, the computer reported. The island will appear on the southern horizon in three minutes.

  Go low and circle the island, Holly ordered when a minute speck appeared right on cue in the middle of two worlds of blue; the dark blue ocean below and the cloudless lighter blue sky above.

  As they flew closer they could see sheer, orange cliffs towering above pounding waves that crashed relentlessly between jagged rocks. The island was ellipse shaped, about two kilometers long with a volcanic peak on the northern end that sloped down to rolling hills and a deep saucer shaped valley centered on a small lake. On the southern side, water from the lake crashed down a narrow waterfall into a stream. This, in turn, ran through a narrow gorge that opened out into a small bay of white sand forty or fifty meters below the plateau. This small triangle of beach was the only break in the vertical cliffs that surrounded the island.

  It's beautiful, Bikut gasped.

  But where do we land? a more pragmatic Graham replied. The jungle looks impregnable and I doubt if there is access inland from that tiny beach.

  And where is the base? Holly added.

  If you wish to land the base doors need to be opened, Plato announced. I can access them, if it is required.

  Where are they? Clay asked. Won't the jungle have grown over them? He squinted at the lush growth of strange tropical plants as the FanWarrior slowed, the wing panels slid back and the propellers kicked into action.

  The main space shuttle doors will need minor repairs to clear foliage from the access intakes, Plato reported, but the aircraft bay is functional and we can land with a ninety two percent safety margin.

  Open the Alpha Base doors and land, Holly ordered.

  The FanWarrior slowed to a hover directly above the lake and turned a hundred and eighty degrees. Like the beach, a narrow strip of white sand surrounded the lake before the jungle encroached. They descended until another cliff on the mountainside of the lake appeared. This was minute compared with the cliffs that edged the island and partly covered with scrubs and creeper so only a small fraction was exposed orange rock.

  Without further instructions, the aircraft flew lower until it was mere meters above the lake before it began to fly directly at the cliff face. Holly paled and gripped her seat but waited. They were less than twenty meters from the cliff when the Fan Warrior stopped so quickly everyone was slung forward in their seat belts, and hovered above the lake below. Downdraft from the propellers sent choppy waves radiating out across the water and spray up towards them as the FanWarrior wobbled on swaying wings.

  The mechanism has to be lubricated, Plato reported. There will be a ten minute delay.

  Look! gasped Jaddig as a flock of white and black birds rose from the lake surface and flapped away from them. She grinned. I bet they haven't had their home disturbed for generations.

  Everyone aboard stared, fascinated at the view. The beach glistened in the sunshine but deep shadows and thick foliage on the almost vertical hillsides made them look dank and uninviting. Even the volcanic peak was jungle covered.

  Look! Graham poked Holly on the arm and pointed to the very top pinnacle that was as sharp as a needle with a strange bowl on the top. It's man made.

  The mountain? Holly replied.

  No the point at the top is made of metal. It's some sort of tower.

  You are correct, Plato cut in. That is the satellite transmission and receiving dish. The dark green color is camouflage. From a higher altitude it blends in with the natural surroundings.

  It's moving, Suzi spoke for the first time.

  It was. As they watched, the bowl at the top began to spin slowly.

  The internal generator and support equipment has been switched on, Plato announced. Internal electricity supply is operating and equipment is at a sixty one percent efficiency rating. Self repairs will raise this to ninety percent within twelve hours.

  Thanks, Holly grinned. She was becoming used to the percentage efficiency reports by now. No doubt if she required it, Plato would diagnose her own health on the same scale.

  Well here goes, Clay spoke up as the engines increased power and the FanWarrior moved forward.

  In front of the slow moving aircraft a black semicircle appeared in the cliff face and increased in size as the entire surface dropped away to expose a curved roofed opening. The floor was level and dark interior flooded into harsh white light as the FanWarrior flew in. The undercarriage swung down and tires touched a white concrete floor. No sooner had this happened when the circular door behind slid up and the view of the outside disappeared.

  Welcome to Base Alpha, an entirely different voice filled the aircraft and a monitor showed the vision of an elderly man dressed in a civilian clothes smiling at them. I am Admiral Leonard Jurjevics. It is Saturday, the 23 rd November 2127, True Time and we have been stranded on this planet for twenty nine years, He gave almost a sad grin. I won't convert to Earth time as I guess it will little more than an academic interest to you, one of our ancestors. We are closing this base down and staying on the mainland so I don't visualize anybody returning until the computers release information of our position.

  If they do their duty, by the time this message is viewed, Inter-galatical Star Ship 7 s fuel supply will have been replenished and a light speed signal could well be on its way back from Earth. He shrugged. Who knows, they may have even have post light speed communication by your time.

  Holly glanced at her companions and saw them all staring fascinated at the screen as their ancestor continued to talk.

  No doubt you are at present sitting watching this video in one of our FanWarriors after arriving on our landing pad. Our scientists have managed to speed up the replenishing of the Star Ship's fuel cells so if the date is beyond 2170, True Time, there will be sufficient anti-matter for a return journey to be made to Earth. The computers will give you full details in due course. He smiled again. Meanwhile, you'll find the living accommodation here will cater for a hundred people and the
re is food and supplies in Alpha Base to last a month. Just call my name if you wish to talk. I have programmed the computers to respond in my voice.

  He stopped and the viewers saw the admiral's shaky hand reach for a console. However, almost as an afterthought, compassionate blue eyes stared directly at the screen. If, by any chance, you, Dear Ancestor have four arms and an insect rather than mammal metabolism, please forgive this old man. I tried to stop the experiments but was out voted by my children. May God bless you all and have a safe journey back home.

  He knew! Jaddig gasped as the screen returned to normal monitoring mode. She stared at Bikut's haunted eyes then on to Holly and the others.

  It appears so, Clay whispered and wrapped his arms around Bikut. But he never knew the wonderful grandchildren to the seventh generation, his genes would produce.

  I agree, Graham added and slung an arm around Holly's shoulders. She smiled and turned up to kiss his lips.

  Somehow, though, the view of the old man's blue eyes staring out made the new arrivals melancholy.

  I wonder what he was thinking when he recorded that message, Suzi whispered. If I remember my dates correctly, he died only a few weeks later.

  We shall never know, Jaddig replied. It's a pity, though, that after all these years there couldn't be peace in our world. I'm sure that's what Admiral Jurjevics would have wanted.

  Silence filled the cockpit as the engines cut the FanWarrior gave a slight bump as the rear ramp hit the concrete floor. The crew of humans and crucnon walked out together to see what hope for the future their ancestors had left them.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Seventeen

  Fresh cool air tickled Holly's nose as she walked away from under the FanWarrior's tail and surveyed the area around. They were in an artificial cave with a curved white ceiling lit by dozens of white lights. Like Hanger Beta, the whole hanger was clean and dust free with only the faint hum of an air conditioning unit to interrupt the silence. Three very ordinary looking metal doors were to the left but it was the scene at the back of the hanger that attracted Holly's attention.

  Parked wing tip to wing tip so they stretched right across the cave were two FanWarriors, identical to their craft except that their condition was quite different.

  Someone's been here, Clay spoke in a hushed voice.

  The right hand FanWarrior was pristine, almost as if it had only rolled out of the factory, and was completely covered in a white coating of a plastic sealing like a colossal bag while the windshield and windows had light gray covers over them. As well, stoppers were fitted in all the movable tail and wing sections. This craft was sitting on a metal frame so the deflated tires were suspended a few centimeters above the tarmac. A bright yellow hose connected a valve on the underside of the fuselage to a similar one in the hanger floor while a smaller black wire ran from the hanger ceiling point to connect with a socket above the aircraft's windshield. Small interior lights could be seen shining from behind the window seals.

  It was the other FanWarrior, though, that fascinated Holly and her friends. Attempts by the automatic cleaning equipment to clean the craft had been partially successful but oil stains and dark blemishes covered the underside, the tires were flat and one undercarriage had crumbled so the FanWarrior slumped over like a wounded bird.

  Hell! Jaddig exclaimed as they walked closer. It's been shot at.

  In a diagonal line across in fuselage were twenty or thirty neat holes, each a few millimeters in diameter. Clay and Graham ducked down and examined the underside of the craft while Holly grimaced and also crouched down to examine the FanWarrior. Dozens of similar holes peppered the fuselage and wings. The left wing covering had not closed and the propeller stood with the eight blades bent and buckled. Rust had eaten into many of the joints and black oil stained the concrete floor beneath the wing.

  What happened? Holly gasped after she crawled back out and straightened up.

  I'd say our army, or perhaps the crucks, tried to shot this FanWarrior down, Jaddig said. There are bullet holes all over it. By the angle, I'd say one machine gun swept the side as it was parked on the ground and it was fired at from underneath as it took off or flew over.

  Yeah! Graham muttered. That one propeller was hit and the engine put out of action, I'd say.

  Suzi stared at the damage. Whoever flew it, made it here, though. I wonder how long ago it was.

  They had all reached the rear of the craft to find the ramp was down. The inside was musty and dark with everything crisscrossed with cobwebs.

  No cleaning gear came in here, Clay snorted as he brushed through the cobwebs.

  The cargo area was empty and the cockpit lifeless. Like the cargo bay it was covered in cobwebs, dust and grime. Everything stunk of stale air. No computer lit up and there were no responses when buttons or switches were moved. This FanWarrior was just a dead hulk that could tell them nothing.

  Admiral Jurjevics! Holly called when they stepped back into the hanger.

  A voice responded. I have been programmed to respond to the name Len, the old man's voice filled the air. Can I be of assistance, Holly?

  What happened to this damaged FanWarrior?

  Lieutenant Gordon Dixon flew it in with his crew and passengers. Do you wish a report on their medical condition?

  Not now, Holly frowned at her friends. How many passengers were in the Fan Warrior when it landed?

  Five crew members, one hundred and four passengers and five deceased.

  What! gasped Suzi. When was this?

  At 0300 hours on the 30th of February 2168.

  Over eighty years ago, Clay whistled. No wonder the old plane is a bit creaky at the joints.

  And when did Dixon leave? Jaddig questioned.

  At 0700 hours on 8th of March 2168.

  We want a full report, Holly added. Her lips were pursed and eyes curious.

  As they expected, the full report that followed was filled with technical details and lists of other data. However, other information of interest to the group filtered through. It appeared three other passengers died from wounds and a hundred and six left together on that March morning. The report continued telling how the base was sealed and maintained afterwards.

  Thank you, Holly interrupted. Has the base been visited since that date.

  Negative, Len replied. Lieutenant Gordon Dixon is over due.

  So they were expected back? Suzi interjected.

  That was their plan. I suggest you consult the flight program. Security rankings have to be checked before I can divulge this information.

  Thank you Len. What do we need to do next? Holly continued.

  Please proceed to Console Room 2 where identification hand prints will be necessary before personnel can enter Restricted Zone 1.

  The console room was similar to those in Hanger Base Beta and the usual classifications were issued, once again with Jaddig the only one allowed to proceed. She, though, reprogrammed the computer to respond to all those present. Another amusing point was that Bikut was given the same ranking as Holly, one higher than Clay's.

  Well Sergeant Farrell, she teased. Don't you think you'd better start saluting your superiors.

  No, you're the one in trouble, Clay grinned. Officers should not fraternize with non commissioned ranks. You'd better stay away from me. As if he realized what he'd said Clay suddenly flushed a bright red while Bikut bit on her lip and glanced away. It was as if in their jest, inner feelings had been exposed.

  Holly, who had noticed both reactions, stepped across, put an arm around the young crucnon's shoulders and discretely guided her out the door into the main hanger. You know, she said in a low voice so the others couldn't hear. I sometimes go all tingly inside when Graham comes near me but it is perfectly natural.

  But I'm a clicker, Bikut replied bitterly. I didn't ask to be one, but I am. Clay is human.

  And I'm a human female with ghastly red hair, Holly added. I did not choose that, either. We are what we are, Bikut.
What we do with ourselves is more important. Think of yourself as a woman and be proud. She fixed her eyes on her friend. We're proud of you, you know.

  But what about Clay?

  He's more than just proud, Bikut. Just look at his eyes and you'll see the love there.

  Love! Tears appeared in the corner of Bikut's eyes. Oh Holly, I'm so muddled up inside. What can I do?

  Nothing, Holly smiled. Just let everything take its own course and you have our blessing.

  You do, said another female voice. The pair turned to see both Suzi and Jaddig standing they're smiling. It was Suzi who had spoken but Jaddig's expression reflected her own approval.

  Inside the console room, Clay frowned at Graham and shrugged. I've stuffed this lot up, haven't I?

  Because you're attracted to Bikut? Graham replied in a blunt voice.

  I guess, Clay muttered. Now, if she had a curvy figure and long red hair like Holly but... He kicked out at a small pebble lying on the concrete floor. Bloody hell, I don't know.

  If we survive the next few weeks, we will all need all the friendship and love we need, Clay. Why care about anyone else back home? There will always be the old bigots like Malone Davidson but what the hell about them?

  Yeah, Clay grinned. What the hell!

  He glanced up as the women walked back in and saw Bikut's moist eyes. As she brushed past him he reached out, swung her around and deposited a kiss on her tiny lips. The others suddenly found the instruments on the console needed their attention as Bikut stiffened in the human man's arms before her eyes met his.

  Clay, she whispered. I didn't mean for this to happen.

  So, what the hell, Clay grunted. He took a massive handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to her. Here, wipe your eyes, he said softly and kissed her again.