War Orphans (The Terra Nova Chronicles)

by Robert Dean Hall

“Tell me now, do the two look exactly alike?” Stiles waited patiently for Morning Grass to think about any differences.

  “No they don’t, but they could pass for sisters. My mom was older than Major Russo is, but they are the same height. Their facial features are very similar but their eyes are different colors. Mom’s were brown and Major Russo’s are green.”

  “You’re sure of that?”

  “Yes, Colonel. I’m absolutely certain.”

  “Can you remember any other occasions when you stayed with your mother besides the one you described in your dream?”

  “I’m sorry, Colonel, but I can’t. I really want to and while we were talking I got strong feelings a couple of times I might, but nothing ever came to me.”

  “That’s okay,” Russo blurted out without realizing. She glanced over at Stiles and silently offered an apology.

  Stiles indicated there was no harm done.

  “Who said that,” Morning Grass asked.

  Russo was about to speak again when Stiles motioned fervently for her to remain silent.

  “Who do you think said it,” Stiles asked.

  Morning Grass acted as if she didn’t want to answer.

  “You’re safe here. Nobody will hurt you or scold you for answering truthfully.”

  “I thought my mom was here,” Morning Grass finally said.

  “I’m sorry,” Stiles responded. “I don’t know where or even who your mother is, but she isn’t here right now. It’s just you, Major Russo and me.”

  “It was Dawn Marie, then?”

  “Yes, it was.”

  “Oh. Okay.” Morning Grass looked distressed.

  “Do you think you might be remembering more,” Stiles asked.

  “I thought I might be, but no.”

  Stiles stood up from her chair and stretched. “Once you wake up, you will remember your dream completely and in detail. I want you to go back to your cabin and go straight to sleep. I want you to wake up at your regular time, fully rested. If you have any more dreams, I want you to record them as soon as you wake up so you don’t forget anything important.”

  “Certainly, Colonel Stiles,” Morning Grass replied. There was now a chipper timbre in her voice.

  Stiles commanded Morning Grass to wake and go to her cabin. The feline smiled at Stiles and Russo as she made her way out the door. Russo was about to follow when Stiles stopped her.

  “I’m not ready to say Morning Grass is remembering things exactly as they happened,” Stiles said, “but, I believe she had a breakthrough tonight. Has she discussed anything with you that might help me make some more sense out of this?”

  “She told me she’s been dreaming quite a bit, lately,” Russo replied after giving the question some thought. “She said she notices dreaming more on the evenings she reads before falling asleep. I told her she should report it to you.”

  “Did she tell you what the dreams were about,” Stiles asked.

  Russo recounted what Morning Grass mentioned to her the previous evening at dinner. “She told me she didn’t remember a lot, but most times, she saw me in her dreams, brushing her hair.”

  “Ah. It’s beginning to make sense now.” Stiles motioned for Russo to sit and took a chair herself. “I asked her to imagine she was looking at a holograph of her mother and had her to compare it to you. That’s what she was doing when you first came back in.”

  Russo laughed nervously. “I should have guessed, but it went over my head.”

  “Did you hear what she told me,” Stiles asked.

  “She said her mother looked a little older and had brown eyes, but we could have passed for sisters. That’s almost verbatim what she said to me before we came to see you.”

  “If you had to guess, what do you think would be the significance of that?”

  Russo shrugged her shoulders. “I have no idea.”

  “I think Morning Grass is so concerned about her lack of progress she’s made some subtle changes in the description of her mother for our benefit, or actually, for your benefit. She doesn’t realize that is what she’s doing, of course.”

  “I thought you had ruled out transference phenomenon. Have you changed your mind? I'm confused.”

  “That isn’t what I’m saying.” Stiles reached over and patted Russo on the knee. “Morning Grass is very fond of you, Dawn Marie. She told me she considers you to be like a sister. Your opinion means quite a lot to her.

  “I’m fond of her, too.”

  “I’m glad about that, but I still have some concerns about how Morning Grass views your relationship with her. You’re her physical therapist. You’ve also become her mentor and direct superior. I hope she’s mature enough to keep her personal feelings out of your professional interactions.” Stiles withdrew her hand from Russo’s knee and sat back in her chair. “I’m also concerned about how you view that relationship.”

  “Why is that?”

  “I don't want to put too fine a point on it, but it’s because of your attempted suicide, Dawn Marie. Do you remember me telling you humans in pain who are separated from their familial support structures try their damnedest to compensate?”

  “Yes. I remember it clearly.”

  “Don’t get me wrong,” Stiles said, “I’m very happy the two of you have one another to look to, but you’re in a vulnerable place right now.” She thought about what she was going to say next very carefully. “There is also my responsibility to the Forward Command to make certain neither of you present a potential liability. You especially, Dawn Marie. That’s with regards to morale, security or the political situation we find ourselves in.”

  Russo frowned in frustration. “I thought we were past this, Peggy. Do you still believe Morning Grass is under the influence of the separatists?”

  “Until she can remember everything or at least tell us who wiped her memory and for what purpose, she is a threat. As much as we would both like to believe otherwise, it’s still possible Morning Grass could be a mole.”

  “What is your primary concern here, Peggy? I need to know.”

  “Personally, I want what’s best for you and Morning Grass. I believe ensuring your personal lives don’t affect your careers or this mission adversely is the best way to do that. Don’t take this negatively, but I’m going to keep a close eye on the both of you from now on.”

  Chapter 7

  5-Feb-2410

  Zheng picked the well-worn journal back up and studied it more closely. “Where did this come from,” he asked Still Water. He still hesitated to open it. He feared it might fall apart.

  “It was given to me by my grandmother, Colonel, Sir. She told me it belonged to our original female ancestor.”

  Zheng sat up straight in his chair. His head reeled when he thought of the possibilities this find might present. “If this was indeed written by General Morning Grass, Cadet, you are certainly correct about its value to the League of Aligned Planets.”

  Zheng opened the fragile book for the first time and looked at one of the pages. The handwriting was neat and consistent with a bit of flourish. The subject matter made it clear the thoughts being recorded were those of a young girl.

  “Tell me, Cadet, why has no one in your family offered before now to make this public?”

  Zheng turned to a page toward the back of the book and looked as he awaited an answer. The entry on that page was also written with a neat, precise hand, but had lost some of the ornamental character of the earlier entry. The style seemed more utilitarian and the tone of the entry much more solemn. It was as if the writer now cared only to record the event, and had lost the desire to capture the feelings that went along with the experience.

  “The diary contains information that could be considered scandalous if seen in an improper context, Colonel, Sir,” Still Water said. “There are also family secrets in there that are no one else’s business. I wouldn’t be showing it to you now if I didn’t think it was vitally important for me to correct some of the misconceptions about that tim
e period. I’m sorry, Sir, but I can no longer sit idly by and watch the Central Government perpetuate the half-truths and fallacies we’ve accepted as common knowledge.”

  Zheng looked up from the diary. He peered at Still Water over the top of his reading glasses. “Where have I heard that before?” Zheng didn’t realize he had said it audibly, until Still Water begged his pardon.

  “Excuse me, Cadet. I was thinking out loud. Just why is it you feel you must make your stand here and now? You realize you’d be putting me in the center of a controversy, don’t you?”

  “Yessir, Colonel. I sincerely apologize for that, but I’m afraid I see this as a rare opportunity to right a wrong and I cannot allow it to pass by with a clear conscience.”

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Cadet. Just what do you wish to accomplish here, and how do you plan to go about it?”

  Still Water smiled. Zheng recognized it as the same smile his granddaughter Emily gave him when making an attempt to secure his assistance in some sort of tomfoolery. Zheng often found himself being taken in; partly out of boredom, but mostly due to his own penchant for bending rules and ignoring conventions he found to be unnecessary or self-serving to those in authority.

  “I would like to formally request that you review this text for addition to the approved reading list, Colonel, Sir,” Still Water replied. She used formal language, but her voice dripped with treacle.

  “Wouldn’t it serve your purpose better if I just studied the document and allowed you a singular exception like I offered to do? Even if there is enough information in the diary to justify its further study as a significant historical document, the likelihood it would be approved as a reference is slim.”

  As discouraging as he sounded out loud, Zheng silently admitted to himself the thought of publishing such a document for public consumption was enticing.

  “In order to obtain what you want,” Zheng informed the attentive cadet, “you would lose all rights to this diary. Due to its age and the possibility it might contain historically significant narrative, it would have to be entered into the public domain. The debate on the authenticity and significance alone might take years. Even then, it might not be placed on the approved reference list for this or any other class. It would also mean until a determination was made, you would be given an incomplete. If this isn’t settled in time for you to graduate, you’ll be required to take this class over and demonstrate your mastery of the approved texts. This whole exercise will have been in vain.”

  “I appreciate the Colonel’s concern and thank him very much for sharing his wisdom with me,” Still Water replied, “but, I must respectfully ask him what will happen to the next feline cadet who ends up in the same situation? He or she will not have this resource available, even though he or she may know what it contains well enough to quote it verbatim. I must respectfully request this journal be given official consideration for addition to the approved reading list so all felines everywhere can profit from it, not only myself.”

  Zheng felt a surge of adrenaline. He was quite busy with other historical research at the moment, but relished the opportunity to see what information this diary actually held. He was desperate to find out if there were any references to the Zunnuki massacre or the feline revolt. That would most definitely be of value to him and others like him who wanted to address holes in the official accounts of that time period.

  “Out of my concern for your education and my responsibility to mentor you,” Zheng said, “I must insist we first explore an exception. That way, it’s up to me alone to determine how this affects your grade on the tests and the extra credit essay.”

  The cadet started to speak. Zheng gestured for her to allow him to finish.

  “If I find this document is indeed genuine and of historical significance, I will sponsor the effort myself to have it added to the approved reading list for the syllabus, so a refusal will not repeal any extra credit given to you as a result of your exception request.”

  Still Water smiled from ear to ear. She happily agreed to the offer.

  “I will need to make an electronic reproduction,” Zheng told the cadet. “It’s too fragile to survive the amount of handling it would take to share it with all the experts needed to assess it. Of course, the original copy will be returned to you to remain in your possession.”

  “That’s acceptable, Colonel, Sir,” Still Water replied, still beaming.

  “By the way,” Zheng asked her. “Do you have your family’s permission to do this?”

  “The journal is mine to do with as I please, Sir. You may make as many copies of it as you see fit.”

  “I’ll take good care of it,” Zheng assured her. “From my copy I’ll make my assessment of your essay. The diary isn’t too large. I should be able to let you know something before the end of the term.”

  Zheng gave Still Water a look that told her he was now about to ask something from her in return for his assistance. “Out of courtesy to me, please confine your answers on the remaining tests and quizzes to the approved material. That shouldn’t be too difficult. We start studying prominent figures from Earth tomorrow.”

  “Understood, Colonel. Will that be all, Sir?”

  “Just one more thing before you leave, Cadet,” Zheng said. “I must assume you know more about this journal than anyone else in existence. As it stands, you are the de facto expert on its origins. I’m certain you’ll be contacted by more than one entity for information about it and such requests will become a burden on your time. You are a student here first and foremost, and as such, a representative of the Academy. It’s important for your grades to remain praiseworthy and your demeanor to reflect well on the institution.”

  “I understand, Sir,” Still Water replied.

  “Excellent, Cadet. Dismissed.”

  Part II—Ghost in the Machine

  Chapter 8

  9-February-2410

  Zheng closed the electronic copy of the journal Cadet Still Water gave him and rubbed his eyes. When he began the tedious process of copying the journal, page by page, with a scanning wand, he failed to see anything of real importance within its pages; at least nothing of any lasting historical importance. By the time he’d finished his scan, however, he found the journal was divided into two very different sections.

  Zheng scanned a third of the document without any of the content registering at all. He did notice the character of the handwriting seemed to mature quickly as the entries accumulated, but he only skimmed the pages until he noticed an abrupt change in the tone of the entries.

  The remainder of the book was a memoir, most definitely written by an adult. Zheng had to compare samples of the handwriting in both sections closely before he was convinced the same person had penned them.

  Zheng inspected the date of the final entry in child’s handwriting and compared it with the first date he could find in the memoir. There was a difference of close to twenty Earth years between the two. Zheng could not yet account for the lapse in time between the writing of the two sections, but hoped the author would explain it as he read further. What he’d read of the memoir thus far was illuminating.

  Zheng deactivated his personal tablet and opened his briefcase to drop it in alongside the ancient tablet and the various memory cards he was studying. He was about to close and lock the case for the walk to his apartment when he noticed a flash of light and an audible alert tone.

  Instinctively, Zheng reached for his locator and looked at the display before realizing the flash and sound came from inside the open briefcase. “I would have sworn I turned my tablet off.”

  Perusal of Zheng’s personal tablet revealed no sign of activity. He was about to shut the case once more when there was another flash and alert tone.

  Zheng moved aside his personal tablet and picked up the antique that had abruptly stopped working days before. There was a text cursor flashing at the top left of the display. He tapped the touch screen to see if the device would respond. It asked for h
is password.

  “Now that is damned peculiar.” Zheng tapped his password on the virtual 22nd century English keyboard that appeared at the bottom of the display. He was about to grab one of the ancient memory cards he hadn’t been able to transfer, when some strange characters flashed across the screen.

  By the time Zheng could retrieve his reading glasses and put them on to get a better look at the screen, the characters had disappeared. He quickly pulled out his personal tablet and the non-authorized hyper-link transceiver he built to connect the two units. He congratulated himself on his stroke of luck as he saw the tablet was working again.

  “I’d better transfer the last few cards to the internal memory of my tablet,” he thought as he inserted one of the remaining memory cards into the card slot on the side of the antique computing device. “I may not get another chance.”

  Just as Zheng finished transferring the final card, the malware protection on his personal tablet, flashed a warning on the display. Before he could get a look at what the warning said, it disappeared.

  The startled Zheng powered the homemade hyper-link off as soon as the last file from the final ancient memory card was copied. He quickly pulled up the malware logs on his personal tablet and inspected them. There was nothing there.

  Zheng heaved a sigh of relief and packed his belongings again for the trek across campus. He was about to open the door to leave when his locator alerted him to an incoming call. He pressed a button on the side of the device and a small earpiece emerged from a cradle. He placed it in his ear so he could talk privately with the caller as he walked home.

  “Herb? Are you sitting down,” the caller asked. It was Lennart Pedersen, Zheng’s oldest friend and his contact inside the Bureau of Historical Sciences. Although their friendship had been strained of late, Zheng was happy to hear Pedersen’s voice.

  “No Len. I’m actually walking down a flight of stairs. No surprises, please.”

  “You take the fun out of everything. Let me know when you’re on level ground. By the way, is it still colder than a well-digger’s mule on that god-forsaken rock?”