Serendipity

by Dennis Ingram

  “It must be a good decision,” Nigel said, his voice dry. “No one is happy.” For the past few hours he’d been out and about gauging public reaction.

  “What do they say?” Nathalie asked.

  “Most are unhappy because they want to find Carla guilty but not David,” he replied. “Some want to split the decision because they think Carla is less culpable than David.”

  “Really? Who?”

  Nigel shrugged. “It may be better not to say.”

  Nathalie narrowed her eyes, suggesting otherwise.

  “Well, Heinrich for one,” Nigel said, seeing her expression.

  “That isn’t a big surprise,” David said. “I don’t think he’s forgiven me for tying him up and leaving him on Carla and Edward’s bed.”

  Nigel laughed. “Perhaps if you’d remembered him before lunchtime the next day it would’ve helped.”

  David flashed a quick smile. “Yes, perhaps it would’ve.”

  “But seriously,” Heidi asked. “Which way do you think they’ll vote?”

  Nigel considered. “I think they’ll go for the second option, but it’s hard to be sure. Some favor a trial because they want to nail Carla. They think a trial could find Carla guilty and David innocent.”

  Heidi pursed her lips. “A risky strategy.”

  Nigel shook his head. “Not if one has faith in justice being done. But a dilemma for those choosing, for sure.”

  Nathalie shook her head. “What if we do have to try David?” she said, looking at him.

  “It would be OK,” he said. “In the end, it’s what the people decide that matters.”

  “I’m more worried about what happens if they don’t,” Josh said.

  All heads turned to him.

  “You are?” Heidi asked.

  Josh nodded. “If they go for the second option, Carla walks free. I’m not sure I feel comfortable about that.”

  Nigel pressed his lips together. He didn’t like that idea much either.

  “Has anyone voted yet?” Kevin asked.

  Nigel blinked. He realized he hadn’t checked. “Just a minute,” he said, pulling his phone out. “Eleven,” he said, looking up.

  “And?” Nathalie prompted, an eyebrow raised.

  “Five for trying both, six for treating them as combatants.”

  “That’s … that’s closer than I thought it would be,” Josh said. “Much closer.” Silence fell as they contemplated what might happen.

  “Have any of you voted?” Nigel asked.

  Their sheepish looks answered the question. They all reached for their phones.

  Nine o’clock.

  No one in the gallery could keep still. They fidgeted, crossing and uncrossing their legs and jittering their feet against the floor. Some couldn’t sit at all, pacing the floor at the back of the room or out on the lawn. All of them snatched glances at their phones, impatient to know.

  Carla and Franz walked to their table and sat down. Carla was dressed in black, her hair pulled back into a tight bun. She seemed even paler than usual and there were circles under her eyes. Franz wore a permanent frown, perhaps worried or perhaps angry.

  Sabine sat at her table flexing her fingers. She refused to look at either Carla or Franz. She appeared unhappy at being in the same room, never mind seated next to them.

  The council arrived, led by Kevin. David brought up the rear and peeled off to sit in the front row, as he had the previous day.

  They took their seats and waited for quiet.

  Kevin broke the silence. “People of Haven,” he said, his eyes moving from one person to another. “There are a total of seventy-six people entitled to vote on the question of how we should treat people who killed on the night of civil disturbance. This does not include Carla Lewis or David Miller, both of whom are subject to the outcome of the poll.”

  He drew a breath. “I have the results here,” he said, holding up his phone.

  The silence in the room had a thick texture of its own. No one moved.

  “Five people abstained from voting, and twenty-seven decided both Carla and David should be tried for civilian crimes.”

  A sigh escaped from the audience as they did the math.

  “Forty-four chose to regard the deaths on that night as the result of combatants acting under a state of war.”

  A stunned silence followed as the spectators digested the news. Elizabeth closed her eyes and shook her head, as if she couldn’t believe it.

  Carla, just for a moment, smirked. She brushed an imaginary piece of lint from her blouse as she stood up. She looked at David and nodded, once, before turning to Franz and receiving his kiss of congratulation.

  Steve Rickard found his feet in the second row. “What does this mean? Does she just walk free?”

  Kevin rapped the gavel.

  “This decision is both binding and final. Both Carla Lewis and David Miller are free to resume their normal lives in Haven. This court is complete.”

  Steve’s nostrils flared. He pointed a finger at Carla. “This isn’t over. Don’t think for a moment it is.” He turned his back and walked off without a backward glance.

  David stood and turned to face the gallery, raising his hands. “I’d like to say something.”

  The murmur of voices died away.

  “This whole experience, what we’ve gone through together over the past couple of months, has been awful. We’ve all suffered in some way. But let this day be the end of it. Let us now focus on building bridges, on building our community, on living in peace. All of us, together.”

  He turned to Carla. The hard expression that flickered in her eyes, even as her smile grew, told him all he needed to know.

  They hadn’t seen the last of Carla Lewis.

  5

  Nigel’s classes continued to grow. The next to join was Vasily, who came to find out why his twin sister was getting up so early in the mornings. It wasn’t long before curiosity brought many other children, and Nigel had to start new classes for the younger ones.

  The biggest surprise of all happened when Kevin showed up one morning wearing a gi secured with a black belt of his own. “I’m a little rusty,” he said, but he seemed to have no problems following the class routines.

  At the end of the katas, Nigel divided everyone up into pairs for sparring. At this stage of their training, they engaged in stylized sparring and they used pads.

  Today there was an odd number in the class, and Kevin found himself without a partner. His eyes met Nigel’s and he inclined his head to one side in a silent question. Nigel gave a slight nod, and they paired off.

  They bowed to each other and began. The two men sized each other up with narrowed eyes and slow movements.

  Almost too fast to see, Kevin attacked with a high right kick. Nigel blocked, but the kick was a feint; Kevin was already back on balance and punching with his left hand, his real point of attack.

  Nigel dodged, blocked and attempted to sweep, but Kevin was ready for him and had a counter of his own.

  They broke apart, circling, wary. Nigel realized that, for the first time in sixteen years, he had a fight on his hands.

  Back and forth, attack and counter-attack they went. Nigel felt himself slip into the flow, the state where mind and body become one. He felt a rising exhilaration, the delicious uncertainty of whether this fight could be won.

  Kevin’s eyes gleamed and Nigel could tell he felt it too, perhaps, like Nigel, for the first time in years. They didn’t notice their sparring turn to fighting, nor the class stop their sparring and form an audience.

  “Ki-yah!” Nigel punched hard with his right, his fist launching from way back under his armpit and twisting toward Kevin’s midriff. A punch that would have ended the fight, had it connected.

  It didn’t.

  Kevin blocked, grabbed Nigel’s gi and threw him. A collective gasp came from the watchers. They hadn’t seen Nigel on the ground before.

  Nigel was a blur of movement. He seemed to bounce from t
he ground as soon as he hit it, using his momentum to spin and launch a counter-attack. Kevin was ready, but Nigel expected that. He intended his new attack to be blocked, he just wanted to get Kevin off-balance for a split-second. He hooked a leg behind Kevin’s and followed up with a throw of his own.

  Kevin hit the ground with a jolt but was on his feet in a flash, launching a furious one-two punch counter-attack that Nigel hastened to block.

  The two men broke apart once more, leaning forward, hands held on guard.

  Then Nigel noticed their audience and straightened up, a small smile quirking the corners of his mouth. He bowed to Kevin.

  “Thank you,” he said, “but I fear we may have distracted the class.”

  Kevin turned to look at the others, several of whom stood with their mouths open.

  Realization had dawned of how wide a gulf separated their sparring practice from a real fight. Nigel was pleased to see that no one looked discouraged. Instead, they looked determined.

  He looked at Kevin. “Let’s talk later,” he said. “I could use help with this lot.”

  Kevin grinned. “It would be a pleasure.”

  Sabine tried. She had tried really hard, but she just couldn’t be happy. This made her feel guilty, because she should be. She’d met the perfect man for her, the soul mate she’d never thought to find. She’d come twelve light-years, never imagining the man she would marry would be on the same ship.

  Sabine had transformed herself from a tattooed rebel with purple hair into a vivacious blonde who could turn heads anywhere. She could look forward to a wonderful life with Simon, living in a paradise among people she was growing to like and respect. The horrible events of the past couple of months were behind them, and they all had a hopeful future to look forward to.

  But she wasn’t happy. There was a growing restlessness within her soul, a feeling as if something was missing or perhaps she’d lost something and now she couldn’t get it back. She didn’t know what she needed, she just knew she needed something.

  She stood in front of the mirror in their shared bedroom, looking at herself, turning this way and that.

  Bland. With pale skin and platinum-blonde hair she looked bland. Once her skin had told a story with tattoos, a story punctuated with purple hair and studs. Now, she couldn’t be more different.

  She turned side-on to the mirror and rubbed her shoulder, and then it came to her. She knew what she had to do.

  Steve worked hard for a month before putting his plan into action. He hadn’t yet earned any favors he could call on, but he could persuade. He found and convinced several people his idea could work, although he made sure no one person had enough information to connect all the dots.

  The trickiest part had been convincing the council to let him open premises. He’d convinced them it would help the newcomers settle in if they had something familiar and reassuring. Something that could also introduce a little slice of Earth culture to the children of Haven. It would be an interest for him and his family – a family that loved to cook and wanted to give back to the community.

  When asked why they didn’t simply cook in the pavilion’s facilities, Steve had a ready answer. They would just add on to the pavilion to create a new indoor dining area, one with booths to provide a new dining experience for Haven. They would create a place where teenagers could hang out, just as they did on Earth. It would be part of the pavilion, not separate. And he would offer an opportunity for the apprentices to show their skills. After all, it wouldn’t matter if something went wrong building another dining room for the pavilion, would it? It would be a perfect project for them to practice on.

  He gained his permission and lost no time getting under way, building and fitting out his establishment using the same bots and materials that were used to build their houses. The engineering apprentices and others looking for something useful to do pitched in with enthusiasm. A few days later, it was ready to go.

  Then the real work began. Back on Earth, Steve hadn’t made his fortune sitting on his hands. True, in later years his work had been more politics than getting his hands dirty, but he knew how to work. It was time to pull himself up by his bootlaces once more. He, Stella, and the kids set to work, poring over recipes they found on the net and trying different combinations based on what they remembered eating on Earth.

  At last, opening day arrived. Anticipation ran high among everyone in the colony – except parents who remembered what Earth-style fast food was like and saw a connection to the physical bulk of the family wanting to serve it in Haven.

  The first day was a sellout. They had intended to open once a week to begin with, but demand kept them open for three days, after which they had to close to resupply.

  Steve sought help to plant more potatoes, beans, and other essentials, and worked on persuading David that they faced a serious shortage of beef, chicken, and bacon.

  In the end, they had to limit their opening hours to twice a week, because the supply chain couldn’t keep up.

  A month passed, and Steve and Stella grew tired of being fast-food cooks.

  That’s when Steve introduced money.

  Of course, he didn’t call it that. They were food vouchers. If you wanted a meal from his restaurant, you needed to have a voucher. Only because of their supply chain problem, he explained, which they were working on. Soon there’d be enough for all, but until then you needed a voucher.

  Everyone understood, it was only fair. Steve provided a supply of vouchers, which also seemed fair. Everyone got one voucher per week.

  Then Steve made it known that anyone who worked a shift preparing food could have a second voucher in return for helping out. This development became wildly popular with the children and teenagers of Haven, who fought for the right to serve. But Steve was fair. He didn’t want to be accused of hiring child labor, so he allowed only twelve-year-olds and older to work.

  No one seemed to object; it seemed only fair that people should be rewarded for their labor. Steve watched to see what would happen next.

  Two weeks later, he saw Kurt Thompson trade a food voucher with someone in exchange for doing his chores, and he smiled.

  The birth of a free labor market was beautiful to behold.

  Veronika’s clinic had expanded since Sabine had been an unwilling patient several months earlier. Their resident engineering crew had added another wing to the building to provide offices for their new medical staff, courtesy of the Inspiration.

  One of those offices now provided a home base for Dr. Bethany Wrenn, the cosmetic specialist who had removed Sabine’s extensive collection of tattoos.

  “Are you sure about this?” Bethany asked, her eyes holding Sabine’s.

  Sabine nodded. “It’s the right thing for me, I can feel it.”

  Beth leaned back and interlaced her fingers, directing her gaze upward for a moment.

  “Hmmm. What does Simon think?”

  Sabine looked down. “I … I haven’t told him.”

  “Is that because you don’t think he’d approve?”

  Sabine looked up again. “No. He was happy with me the way I was, well, before.”

  Beth nodded. “And you haven’t told him because …”

  Sabine smiled. “A little surprise is a good thing sometimes, n’est ce pas?”

  Beth’s answering smile showed her answer. “Yes, I guess, sometimes. Well, give me a few hours, I need to go talk to Heidi. And Elizabeth, I think, and Solomon. Then I’ll get back to you.”

  “Solomon?” Sabine asked, her eyes widening a little.

  Beth shrugged. “Well, surgery I can do. Art?” she waggled one hand. “Not my best subject at school. At least I know he can draw.”

  Simon, Joyce, Vasily, and the other students were pleased to find the morning air crisp and cool. After the recent upheaval there’d been a few changes. John had relented on his determination not to use air conditioning. He’d always maintained they needed a natural balance of temperatures inside Haven, which meant th
e climate stayed at the tropical end of the spectrum most of the time.

  Either the newcomers’ complaints, or the fact he was no longer physically there to lend the weight of his opinions, changed John’s mind – he agreed when Heidi proposed to install air conditioners to take the bite out of their midday heat.

  She and the other engineers worked to install chiller units on the roof of the vast cavern that formed their home. The volume of Haven was so large, they couldn’t hope to cool it all the time, but they could moderate the temperature and keep it more comfortable. To do this, they started the units early in the morning to get a jump on the solar heat that would soon stream through the cavern mouth. This meant that for the first time ever, Haven experienced cool mornings.

  For people pushing themselves in a martial arts workout, the cooler temperatures were welcome. It didn’t prevent them from working up a sweat, though.

  They’d just finished working through a kata when Simon looked up to see Sabine standing there, watching. He looked at Nigel who nodded his approval. During class, he was their sensei and his word was law.

  “Honey?”

  Sabine stepped forward, and looked at Nigel, chin held high. “I’d like to join, if I may.”

  Nigel returned her gaze. “It’s hard work.”

  “I’m not afraid of hard work. I won’t let you down, I promise.”

  Nigel nodded with approval. “Let’s start now, then.”

  Sabine’s eyes widened, and her eyes flicked to where Simon and Joyce stood in their gis.

  “I’ll get a gi for you, for tomorrow’s class. For today, you can wear what you have, without the shoes.”

  Sabine nodded and kicked off her shoes. She was wearing shorts and a light jacket. Seeing the sweat on Simon’s brow, she stripped off her jacket to reveal a sleeveless top.

  And something else.