Crash

by Guy Haley

  Leonid looked back at him, hollow-eyed and dumb. Leonid swallowed hard. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Dariusz and Sand

  HE FIRST CAME to Sand a month after they had been reunited with the colony. Her assigned partner was dead, not that she figured the company had any hold over her relationships any more. She had no intimates on the voyage besides; he had lost everyone. They were alone, in a crowd of other people who were also alone. There were few in First Landing who had not lost somebody they cared for, and fewer the longer the colony was on the planet.

  Kasia, orphaned, had become her constant companion; Sand her guardian by default. What Sand felt for Kasia was growing into something maternal. She did not recognise the feeling at first, all she knew was that it fulfilled some of her need for human closeness. Some, but not all. The remainder she found in Dariusz.

  Sand found Dariusz quiet, reserved, intense. He spoke little, and laughed less. She figured that could have been because of his son, and his wife before that, but his manner suggested there was more to his introversion than grief. On the surface of it, he was an unlikely match, but underneath the calm, he was angry. She could see that almost straight away. A few words about the Pointers, his fortitude in the council meetings, and she was sure. That suited her. She, too, harboured fury at the status quo, of a different kind. More selfish than his, she thought.

  She liked that he was so forward about his intentions, that he came for her that night (or the time the colony had arbitrarily chosen to be night). Sand unashamedly enjoyed sex. In good times it gave her joy, in bad times comfort. And so, with little preamble, they became lovers.

  Before Dariusz, she’d flirted often with Corrigan; afterwards, too. He was her normal type; stronger, louder, more obviously bold. He was not happy with the turn of events, and antagonism sprang up between him and Dariusz.

  She veered between placating Corrigan and inflaming him. Why she was playing childish games, she was not sure. There were dark emotions behind it.

  She and Dariusz drove often out from the base. At first, Dariusz used the excuse of locating wreckage and materials that the colony badly needed. Once the near desert had been picked clean, and long range expeditions were heading further down the debris trail into dayside, he occupied their free time prospecting Evening Country for natural resources. He found few.

  They ventured far. Travelling made the loss of Sand’s wings easier to bear. Sometimes she drove, but she preferred to be driven, scanning for natives, or crabhawks, or tiger beetles. They encountered other things: Evening Country harboured much life. Great beasts, huge and ponderous on the horizon, always towards the night; small, quick creatures that darted swiftly from view. The closer they went into the twilight demarcating day from night, the more they saw, or rather heard, for in the gathered dark, the creatures hid with easy facility. In the further reaches of Evening, the lands they came to call Twilight, the animals bore a dazzling array of bioluminescent patches. Their light glimmered and flickered across the plain, but with the arrival of the ATV’s whirring engine and glaring lamps, their subtle decorations winked out, and they went to ground.

  Sand and Dariusz drove to the east, where the desert encroached upon the north before dark-hued grasses took root and waved all the way to Nightfall. They went to the west, where the sea broke the forever-setting sun into dazzling scintillations. They went south along its shores, to the place where ocean fought a war of evaporation with day. Salt flats and vast, briny lagoons steamed moisture, and Nychthemeron’s pseudo-insects flew thickly above them. The heat after so long in the Evening Country was awful. Once their initial explorations were over, they did not venture back.

  They crossed the debris trail of the Mickiewicz three times, the oblique line running closer to the nightside until it arrowed into the dark. Now and again and they found remnants of the ship. They found little that was usable, and no functioning beacons, and in this regard, Dariusz’s mission was a failure.

  It was weeks before they first spoke of the crash, and they did so rarely again afterwards.

  “I’d never seen anything like it. I’ve seen knife fights at Christmas sales, for fuck’s sake,” Sand said as they drove north. “They just stood there, once they realised there was nothing they could do. The fight just went out of them. You ever hear about the Titanic?”

  Dariusz shook his head. They were at the borders of the night, and he was intent on the way ahead.

  “No? Bigass ship – an ocean liner, not spaceship – went down about two hundred and fifty years ago, thousand or so dead. They were singing on deck. I thought that was all bullshit, that was something from a better time, you know? Not like now with everyone so into themselves and the world so fucked, but I was wrong... They just, they just stood there. They accepted it. I’d heard about you know, air disasters or fires, how people just stop if no one’s telling them what to do... But...”

  She tailed off. She didn’t say what it was like to look into eyes of the parents. She couldn’t. She didn’t think she’d ever be able to talk about it and stay sane. Some of the children’s parents had got off the ship, the same way Corrigan did. All those who’d got into the passenger unit intended for the Kraków had survived. The ones who’d gone for the Gdańsk’s had not been so lucky. She didn’t remember the faces of those who had lived: they’d stayed sharp in her mind until she came across them again in First Landing, and then they faded then from view. But the ones who had not survived, Kasia’s mother, Roman’s father... Their faces stared at her every time she closed her eyes, as clear as if they stood in front of her. She saw the same look in Dariusz’s eyes when the subject of Danieł came up; anguish so profound to see it was to hurt.

  “How are the children?” asked Dariusz. He was gradually sloughing off his accent, as they spent time together. His Lingua Anglica was peppered with proper American and Brit, a strange mix that made Sand smile.

  “Man, your English is cute, Darek.”

  “Cute?”

  “‘How are the children,’” she mimicked. “Yeah, cute. You know, sweet.”

  “I know what ‘cute’ means, Sand,” he said. He smiled, but she had annoyed him. “It’s not the effect I was intending.”

  “What, you want educated, intelligent?”

  “Something like that.”

  She laughed.

  “Why are you laughing?”

  She said things to calm him down. It exasperated him if she teased him too much; he was a serious man.

  She herself was picking up some Polish. Poles formed the majority group in the colony, followed by Germans, then Czechs, Russian diaspora, Ukrainians, Slovaks, other Slavs of differing nations, with a scattering of people from everywhere else. It had been the same on their sister ship, only the proportions of Germans to Poles was reversed. They all spoke Lingua Anglica most of the time, but the culture remained predominantly Slavic. Sand experienced name days, Wigilia, and the glorious spectacle of All Saints’ Day, when their little cemetery was ablaze with fires to honour the dead; the mourning of those lost on the voyage overshadowing the festival.

  “You know, it’s funny. The crash was terrible, and this world...” She tailed off. “Well, it’s this world, you know? Not the most hospitable of places.”

  “It is beautiful,” said Dariusz. “And empty. Can you even remember imagining so much space back home? Everywhere was full of people.”

  Sand remembered. The thought of it made her claustrophobic. She looked out into the dimness. Lightning flashed and thunder barked on the horizon where the cold air of the nightside mixed with the hot, dry cinnamon winds of the desert. There was nothing there.

  “Yeah. Yeah, it is beautiful. That’s not what I was going to say.”

  “Oh?”

  “No, I was going to say, whatever intent the cultural engineers had is totally compromised, you know; the pairing off, the German/Polish split, the macro-sociological planning. It doesn’t matter where we’re from any more.
It is down to us to make of this world what we can.”

  “This is true. We are free now.”

  Sand sighed and drummed her hand on her upraised knee. Her boot was jammed on the ATV dash. “Are we? What about all the people back home?”

  “Who knows?” he said.

  “They are probably all dead.”

  “Not all of them. Although without the Gateway Project, things there will not have continued as they were.”

  “What’s the Earth like now, do you think?”

  “Probably all like Russia,” he said. “One big mess.” He scowled. “I do not wish to dwell on it. Think of the future.” She regarded him with irritation. His reluctance to discuss the past intensified her own upset. She was, essentially, annoyed at him for feeling the same way as her. “How are the children?” he said.

  “The kids are fine.”

  “They are more resilient than us,” said Dariusz. “They are less rigid in their thinking, more liable to bend than break.”

  “They’re bright. They’re doing well. The school has settled them.”

  “Of course they are intelligent. All the children are. They’d been selected to be so, they and their families. The Pointers need intelligent servants to survive. Why do you think?”

  “Can we drop the politics for a day?” she said. “All that’s behind us now.” His earnestness, so solid and calming in the initial days of chaos after the crash, grated on her. She longed for spontaneity.

  “It is not behind us. Politics are important.”

  She bit back a retort and licked her top teeth under her lip. “Uh-huh, they are. But I don’t think the Pointers are in any hurry to take over here.”

  “No,” said Dariusz. “You are right, I think.”

  “You don’t sound convinced.”

  “I am cautiously optimistic.”

  She laughed again, but it was mirthless. She tugged at her hair. It was a long way to being the mass of springs it once was. The fuzzy denseness of it at this length drove her mad. She missed her curls, they were a defining part of her, almost as much as her wings.

  Dariusz slowed the ATV and stopped. He turned off the engine, and turned to face her.

  “Are you okay, Sand?”

  “Yes,” she said. She blew out hard and punched her knee softly. “No. No I’m not. I’m bored, Darek. It’s nice to be driven, but I miss the skies. I want to fly again.”

  “You will.”

  She shook her head vigorously, her face burning. This was also not like her: she’d changed, become more fragile. She was angry at herself because of it. She wanted her old self back, although she was beginning to understand that she’d mistaken cockiness for strength in the past. “No, not for a long time. The shuttles will never fly again. I mean, the mechanics and electronics of it are simple enough, but coordinating them? The engines in particular, they’re the real problem. If Kulicz and Mohandji hadn’t gotten sick and died on us, we might have worked it out. Mohandji was really good with all that, but I’m on my own. We need a whole new computer system, and it’s not top priority.”

  “The construction of a lighter aircraft is, Sand. You’ll see. It was a good suggestion. People are listening to you. You’ll be first to fly when they’re built.”

  “Because you’re on the council too?” She smiled savagely. “You’ll vote for me? No favours, Darek, it makes us as bad as they used to be. The Pointers.”

  “Because you’re the best pilot, Sand,” said Dariusz. “Okay?”

  She bit her lip. “Fuck, Darek! When I’m not bored, I’m terrified.” He reached for her and she pushed him away. She wiped angrily at her face. Her hands came away wet. “I feel so weak. I don’t like feeling weak.”

  “You’re not weak, Sand.”

  “I’m a pilot with no aircraft.”

  “That doesn’t make you weak. You have Kasia. Think of her.”

  “Kasia doesn’t need me.”

  “She does.”

  She shook her head. “I’m pointless. I need to fly, Darek. It’s my reason to be, do you understand?”

  He looked at her. She felt foolish under his gaze. His losses had been monumental, as had those of so many of the others. Here she was, crying over broken toys.

  But he was understanding. “I do,” he said. “You had a kind of freedom many people could only dream of, and you mourn it.”

  She was ashamed. She leaned into him. They held each other.

  Later, they lay together in the back of the ATV. It was dangerous with no one on watch, but the lure of privacy was too great.

  “I like being here,” she said. “I like this.” She nuzzled into him, pressing her naked body into his.

  “It is not easy being alone.”

  “There are so few people here, and you can’t get away from them.”

  “We live in a village,” he said.

  They fell quiet for a while. She wanted to say that she loved him, but she could not. The words died in a small whimper that Dariusz paid no heed to. She was relieved she had not spoken, she was not sure she meant it, nor of what she truly felt. Comfort, she sought comfort. Where that would lead her made her afraid.

  A sheet of light was cast over them. Thunder crackled in the gloom, storms wavered constantly back and forth over the last leagues of Evening Country, the border of night and day. Dariusz hugged her and got up, pulling his smartsuit on as he went forward into the cabin. His clothes formed themselves to him. She’d given the clothes no thought before, but she knew they were a marvel now they lacked the capability to make any more.

  The sun was a sliver of light on the horizon, locked in position. Red stained the few clouds there; the sky above it was silver. Ahead, twilight gave way to night; a progression of distance, not time. The planets and stars were intimate with this, for it is only the turning of the heavenly bodies into shadow that brings night. But on a human scale, it was unfamiliar. For all their understanding of it, the colonists were circadian creatures. They found the revelation of day’s illusion disconcerting.

  Lightning stabbed down onto the plains.

  “More rains on the nightside. Maybe the river will run again soon. There is so much to learn about this place. Does it not excite you?”

  “Does it excite you?” She slipped her arms under his.

  Dariusz shrugged. “It is either that, or despair. I choose the spirit of adventure over despair, for now, at least.”

  She pulled him tighter.

  “Then I will too.”

  DARIUSZ PARKED THE ATV in the primary vehicle park of the East Mesa. The courtyard was as dark as it ever was in Evening Country. The buildings blocked the low sun and the area was locked into shadow while red light reigned outside. It was dark enough to need additional illumination, dark enough to hide.

  A hiss in the shadows. “Hey, hey, yeah, you, Darius, Darius! I’m talking to you.”

  Dariusz peered into a dark space between two containers. Empty now, their supplies all used up, they were being used as sheds for tools. They stood side by side lengthways, the alley between them long and threatening. A lamp glared overhead, deepening the gloom beyond its pool of light. Whoever had spoken was invisible to him, just a shape.

  “Shit, man, stop peering about and get in here. It’s me, Corrigan. We have to talk.”

  Dariusz was reticent.

  “If this is about Sand, I’d rather talk about it out here in the open.”

  Corrigan made an exasperated sound. “Fucking hell, you Polish wanker! It’s not about Sand. Sure, I’m pissed off about that, I like her, and I can’t see what she sees in a miserable stiff like you, but that’s her choice. I’m not about to challenge you for her hand or some ridiculous medieval shit. Get in here, I need to talk to you!”

  Dariusz did not want to go into the alley, but he did. Once inside, beyond the lamp’s illumination, it became easier to see.

  Corrigan was much taller than the Pole. He looked worriedly over Dariusz’s head as he walked down the gap.

 
“You’re not being followed?”

  “No,” said Dariusz. “I don’t think so. Why?” For a fleeting moment, he thought Corrigan meant to kill him.

  “You sure?”

  “No! Why would I be? What is it, Corrigan?”

  Corrigan looked down at him. His eyes were red with sleepless nights. There was a febrility to him, but there was to so many of them. “Anderson. He’s not pleased with the way things are going. I can see it. He’s up to something.”

  “I am aware of this, we all are. But he won’t make a move without Leonid’s or Yuri’s say-so.”

  “Are you sure about that? How much do you know about Alts, Darius?” Like a lot of the non-Slavs, Corrigan used the Anglicised version of his name.

  “Not much, I admit. I’ve never worked with one before, not directly.”

  “They’re rare.” Corrigan still spoke of Earth in present tense. It would be a habit long in the dying. “Most of them are in the military for the Pointers. It’s best to think of them as thinking robots, they’re not properly human. They’ve no will of their own: everything they do, they do to serve the Pointers. I have never heard of one going rogue.”

  “What are you saying? Do you think Yuri or Leonid are behind this? Leonid set the council up. Yuri’s been agitating for more change.”

  “That’s because Yuri’s a lazy shit and would rather be sunbathing than making decisions. No, there’s something going on. The old man sent those two for a reason. Maybe they’re only liberal on the surface. A lot of Pointers are like that: as kids, they hate their money and power, then they turn into their parents, just like everybody else does. Watch them. Whatever Anderson’s doing, he’s not doing it for his own gain, he’s not capable of it. It might seem that way, but it won’t be for him, it’ll be for the Pointers. Remember that.” Corrigan glanced around. “I’ve got to go. If I get seen talking to you, Anderson will do his best to kill me off. It’ll be long range patrols with some other idiot until the wildlife gets us. He might have no free will of his own, but he’s not stupid. Be careful, Darius.”