by S. J. Madill
Chapter Four
Zura straightened her uniform coat, shrugging her shoulders until it hung straight. Reaching her hands to her neck, she pulled the two edges of the seam together. When they touched, her uniform rippled down the front as the seam fastened itself.
There were some officers who spent a long time preparing themselves at the mirror. Carefully preening, managing every aspect of their outward appearance. Zura knew every scar on her face, and remembered how she got them. It was nothing to be ashamed of. Like her foster mother had once said, shame requires pride.
Reaching into the blue box beside the basin, Zura took out the heavy Mahasa's chain. She fastened it at her shoulders, making sure it hung correctly across her chest.
Last from the box was a dazzling medallion on a sky-blue ribbon, which she fastened around her neck. An unexpected honour from the humans, four decades ago. Recognition for her fleet's contribution to the defence of Earth against the invading Horlan. It seemed strange to her, to give an award for failure. But the humans had been grateful then. Now, two human generations later, the gratitude had faded as the stories dissolved into legend.
Rows of coloured ribbons, shining orders, and awards: it all made her uniform coat heavy and noisy. Each glittering piece was a reminder of some battle, or campaign, or foolhardy act from years ago.
Zura scooped up her black gloves, pulling them on and stretching them tight. One last—
Her train of thought was interrupted by a chime coming from her desk. Some days, she wasn't even allowed to get dressed without being interrupted.
"Shin sa el-fedor", she muttered. "Yes?"
It was Captain Upara. "We have arrived at Tal Felinn, Mahasa."
"La. Scan it. I will be there shortly."
"Yes, Mahasa."
With another chime, the room fell silent again.
She took one last look in the mirror. Uniform, awards and decorations, all correct. Everything was as it should be, even the darkness around her eyes and the fatigue lines on her cheeks. Some people thought she looked intimidating. That was well enough; life was not a popularity contest. Centuries spent fighting for survival, or to enforce the law, didn't make many friends. Executing people's relatives didn't get her invited to polite parties. Never mind that the relatives had been scrounging through grave worlds, digging through the personal effects of her ancestors for anything that would get a few credits. Let others worry about being loved or admired; she had her duty. Zura turned and walked out her cabin door.
The control room doors opened for her as she approached. She stopped a few steps inside.
Out the window lay the curve of the planet Tal Felinn. Swirling white clouds spread across a vast blue ocean. Off the shore of a continent were lines of long, narrow islands, like claw marks scratched through the sea.
Upara bowed to her. "Mahasa, we have completed our scan."
"Show me."
Upara gave a slight bow of her head, then pointed at one of the crew members standing at their consoles.
Zura stepped into the middle of the ring of consoles as the air sparkled with light. A holographic image of Tal Felinn coalesced, occupying the air in front of her. The image rotated and zoomed in, focusing on one of the thin islands.
"Tal Felinn," said Upara. "During the days of the old Empire, the population was 200 million. Attacked in the initial stages of the First Horlan War."
The image continued to zoom in on the island. Roads appeared like veins, etched across the landscape. They converged on a cluster of round lakes at the coast: ancient craters, long since flooded. Clusters of trees, their leaves shades of red and burgundy, dotted the hillsides. Patches of mottled blue and yellow painted the landscape: once-farmed crops, growing wild for centuries.
It took a moment for Zura to recall the city's name. "En-Insille," she remembered. "I visited there once." It had been a pleasant city, with oceanside plazas and beautiful architecture.
"Yes, Mahasa."
The image followed one of the roads away from the cratered ruin, passing over the flowing foothills and past the treeline. In the middle of a broad clearing, it came to a stop at a cluster of new structures.
"It appears to be as reported by Intelligence, Mahasa. One hundred and twenty-one people. Forty-two large quadrupeds in fenced areas nearby. Fifteen four-bay residential units, two storage units, eight agricultural units, one sensor unit, one defence turret. Numerous small buildings made from local materials. There is one power plant unit, operating at very low efficiency."
Zura watched the glowing display in front of her. Small dark specks — individual people — were moving between the buildings. They were gathering at the landing pad, an open area at one corner of the settlement. Some were running. They were probably anxious.
"Do they know we're here?"
"Indeed, Mahasa. They say they are ready to welcome you."
She looked at Upara, meeting the captain's gaze. "'Welcome' me?"
Upara kept her face neutral. "Their word, Mahasa."
Zura grunted. "We will see. Is my squad ready?"
"Yes, Mahasa. Your squad awaits you, as commanded. Five other squads are standing by."
She shook her head. "No need. Human civilians are easily panicked. They have seen three frigates in their sky; they will understand."
Upara gave a deferential nod of her head. "Of course, Mahasa."
Zura took one last look at the planet's bulk through the windows. "Signal the humans that I'm on my way."
Upara nodded and took a step back, while Zura turned on one heel and marched towards the control room door. Time to see the humans— and to be seen by them.
* * *
Zura sat sideways on the shuttle bench, looking out the windows behind her.
Below, the endless oceans of Tel Felinn had given way to a thin crease of land. A line of peaks, like the island's spine, ran between jagged cliffs. A dark reddish carpet — the tree canopy, with grasses beneath — carpeted the landscape. The ancient Palani roadway carved its way around hills and through gentle valleys. To the north, the road continued a dozen kilometres to the cratered outskirts of En-Insille. The shuttle banked left, following the roadway south.
Zura turned back around, leaning against the seat. Across the shuttle, her four soldiers sat in a row, encased in their matte black combat armour, their helmets in their hands.
"Squad leader," said Zura.
The rightmost soldier, with blue stripes on his shoulders, looked up. He straightened in his seat. "Yes, Mahasa?"
"Keep your weapons stored on your backs. Remember how easily frightened humans are."
"Yes, Mahasa."
She gestured at the soldiers with one hand. "Your armour. Change it to alliance colours. And keep your helmets off."
"Yes, Mahasa."
Almost in unison, the four soldiers tapped controls on the left forearms of their armour. Their armour plates flickered to life, the dull black replaced by a bright white. Broad sky–blue stripes stretched diagonally across their chest plates.
Two chimes sounded from the ceiling, signalling they were nearly there. Zura glanced over her shoulder. The colony's boxy structures became visible as the shuttle descended. Grey dust swirled in the air, thrown up from the landing area below. With a gentle thump the shuttle touched down, the sound of its engines quickly fading away.
The four soldiers rose to their feet, forming into two rows of two, facing the rear of the shuttle.
Zura stood as well, and straightened her uniform as the stern ramp descended and the four soldiers marched down. With a heavy sigh, she followed them down the ramp.
A wide circle of humans had gathered, standing a short distance away like a herd of prey keeping their distance from a predator. Their faces were the entire range of human colours, from a pale whitish-pink through darker shades of brown. And all eyes were on her. Most of the humans were wide-eyed with anxiety; others peered at her through narrow eyes, as if suspicious of what they were seeing. A few children stood i
n the front row, held tightly by their parents. Everyone's clothes were drab and heavily-worn, though no one looked dirty. While Zura thought the temperature was comfortable, it was cold for the humans; most of them wore jackets or coats, and some had hats and gloves.
Zura took a step off the ramp, her boots crunching on the dry ground. Taking a breath, she could smell dusty soil and salt water, with the hint of rotting sea plants.
A row of three humans stood nearby, all watching her intently. Two of them wore formal suits, with Palani-style amulets of office hanging from their necks. The woman in front was struggling to keep a smile on her face despite her obvious discomfort.
The human woman took a hesitant step closer to Zura, her darting eyes avoiding direct contact. She was short and thin, with shoulder-length hair. She wrung her hands and fidgeted with the hem of her jacket before offering Zura a hesitant bow of her head. "General Varta?" she asked, a catch in her voice.
"I am."
A tight, embarrassed smile flashed across the woman's face, quickly giving way to tightly-pursed lips. "Thank you," she said, though Zura didn't know what she was thanking her for. "I'm Councillor Miller, the administrator for this colony. Welcome to New Fraser, General. We, uh…" she stammered, like she was trying to remember what she meant to say. "Uh, our mission is to be a colony that looks to the future. We glorify peace, not war. We celebrate the peaceful cooperation of our two peoples." She tried again to put the smile on her face. "We're so happy and honoured to have you."
Zura paused a moment before answering, translating in her head. The brief delay made the human immediately uncomfortable. "No," said Zura, "you're not."
Councillor Miller blinked, her smile falling away. "General?"
"You don't want me here," said Zura, keeping her voice down. "I don't want me here, either."
Miller stepped back, words seeming to fail her. "General, I assure you—"
Zura waved a hand and the woman fell silent. Politicians and their platitudes. She gestured at the two others who stood behind Miller. "Introduce them."
Miller turned, her shoes scraping on the dry ground. "Uh, General, this is Councillor Lang, the deputy administrator for the colony."
Lang was an older man, perhaps seventy or eighty — almost elderly, by human standards. Surprisingly-sharp blue eyes peered at her from beneath a bushy, grey-haired brow. "General," he muttered.
"Councillor," said Zura, nodding as she passed.
Miller had pulled the smile back onto her face as they approached the third person in line. Instead of a formal suit like the others, the man wore faded green military fatigues. "General, this is Major Roche. He's in charge of security here on New Fraser."
Roche was shorter than Zura, and unlike his colleagues, he appeared relaxed. His short blond hair was streaked with grey, and his wrinkled face told of a life spent outdoors. "General Varta," he bowed his head. "Roche, Major, 48th Highlanders, retired."
"Greetings, Major." She nodded toward the turret on the distant ridge. "How is security?"
"As long as no one attacks, General, we're fine." Roche offered a wry smile.
"Anything else I should know?"
He tilted his head toward the crowd, his voice a whisper. "They're scared shitless of you, General."
Zura looked at the crowd and back at Roche. "Thank you, Major." She pivoted on one foot, to face Miller and Lang. "Remain here."
Stepping away from the line of councillors, Zura walked to the centre of the ring of gathered humans. The wind was stronger than before, and though the humans shivered it felt warm on her face. Behind the small crowd, three flags fluttered atop their poles.
"No! Not yet!" hissed a voice to her right, as someone broke from the crowd. A young girl toddled forward, a bunch of flowers clutched tightly in her tiny hand and a look of intense concentration on her face.
The little girl ran right up to Zura, lurching to a halt a step away. She held the bunch of flowers in her fist, outstretched at arm's length like a talisman. "Flowers," she said, matter-of-factly, then took a deep breath. She spoke quickly, reciting something she'd memorised. "Thank you General for coming to our colony to protect us." She brandished the flowers, waggling them in front of Zura.
Zura raised an eyebrow, reaching down toward the girl. "What is your name?"
"Emma," declared the girl. She thrust the flowers into Zura's outstretched hand.
"I see," said Zura. She looked down at the crushed bundle of flowers. "This is… nice."
Emma didn't say anything else; she just turned and tottered away, back toward the outstretched hands of her anxious-looking parents.
Looking up, Zura saw the crowd. Some of them seemed less fearful. As if they'd been waiting to see if she'd do something monstrous to the child.
She cleared her throat, and the humans went still. All eyes were locked on her.
"I am General Varta," she announced. "This system is now within the Outer Frontier Territories sector, under my command. I have been appointed the military governor for this colony, and am responsible for its protection. I will be establishing my sector headquarters here."
Zura paused again, translating her next words in her head. Above her, the flags snapped as the breeze became stronger and little whorls of dust rose from the ground. "All external affairs must go through me, but your internal affairs are your own. I am here to encourage your progress, but you may rule yourselves as you see fit." A few of the gathered humans looked surprised at that; perhaps they were expecting some sort of Palani dictatorship. "You may approach me with any relevant concerns." She saw Emma, who was watching from behind her mother's legs. "You have no reason to fear me. That is all."
She took a step back, still holding the bundle of flowers that drooped in her hand. The colonists began to move away, some speaking to each other in hushed tones. A few lingered, watching her or looking at the soldiers and the shuttle behind her.
Councillor Miller approached. "General?"
"Yes, Councillor?"
Miller was wearing a more believable smile. "Thank you for saying a few words, General. I'm sure it helped."
"I doubt it." She looked at Miller, Lang, and Roche. "Come," said Zura. "I will tour the colony, and you will report on the status."
Looking around, she pointed at the nearby warehouse unit. "We will start there," she declared, and began walking across the dusty ground. The remaining humans quickly parted to let her pass. Behind her, she heard the colony's leadership scrambling to catch up.
Chapter Five
Zura stopped next to the fence. It was made of wooden boards attached to a row of poles stuck into the ground, no doubt from trees the colonists had chopped down. Beyond, the ground was a carpet of green; grasses imported from Earth, apparently thriving in the soil of Tal Felinn.
New Fraser, she corrected herself. Whatever the world had once been, it was a human world now, given to the short-lived race to accommodate their unending refugee crisis.
There were animals in the green field, and the nearest few stared at her. Large creatures, quadrupeds that came up to her shoulders, with short fur in mottled patterns of black and white. The faces that looked at her showed hints of curiosity, but were otherwise vacant. Some of them were chewing on grass, slowly moving their jaws as they watched her.
"Tell me about these animals."
She heard Councillor Miller behind her. "They're 'cows', General." So far, Miller had always been the first to answer her, the most eager to demonstrate her knowledge. It was already becoming irritating.
"Cows," repeated Zura. The animals had been mentioned repeatedly in the human literature she'd read. An important feature in the human food chain.
"They produce milk, General. From between their back legs, those pink… things. From there."
"Udders," drawled Councillor Lang.
"Yes, udders," said Miller. "Milk comes from cows. It gets refined and made into dairy, which is a class of food products."
Zura looked over her shoulder. The
three humans were standing a few paces behind her. On their faces she saw the same expression as on the cows in the field. "I've heard of 'dairy'."
"Ah," whispered Miller, seeming to deflate a little.
Zura unclasped her hands from behind her back, pointing toward the bemused-looking cows. "Is there enough to feed them? I understood cows to require a lot of land."
Miller had a pained expression on her face. "Not really, General. We weren't supposed to get any cows for a few years yet, when we'd have the pasture space to support them. We'll probably have to, you know, turn some of them into beef."
Lang sucked at his lower lip. "Kill and butcher them," he said slowly, a sneer in his voice. "Maybe you can help."
Good, thought Zura. Some of their true selves showing through the fake smiles. "Easily done," she replied, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.
Miller gestured toward the fields around them. "We aren't making enough food, General. In these fields, with the advanced crops, we should be able to feed forty people per hectare, but we've achieved nowhere near that. And then the cows were shipped by accident… I mean, the colonists have cleared more land, and chopped trees to make fences and some sheds. It's given us more land under cultivation, but the per-hectare yields are poor." She frowned. "I don't like it."
"Why not?" asked Zura.
"It's not proper procedure."
"Why aren't you getting the designed yield for your crops?"
"It's the agro prefabs," said Miller. "They were delivered early on, but they were missing parts. The things that, you know—"
"Moisture grids," interrupted Lang.
"— Yeah, the moisture grids that hold water in the ground, they weren't in the shipment."
Lang spoke up. "They shipped us incomplete prefabs. Everything's been that way."
Zura sighed, barely listening as the human councillors kept talking over each other. They were explaining why the ground was so dry despite the abundance of rainfall, and the long list of administrative failures they were struggling with. Behind the councillors stood two of her squad, armour still brilliant white and blue. They kept at a discreet distance, their helmets tucked under their left arms. One of them was watching the cows, while the other kept his eyes on the councillors. When he met eyes with Zura he stiffened, giving her a quick nod. She nodded back. The simplicity of life on patrol was starting to feel a long way away.