by G J Ogden
A crack of electricity from somewhere on the hull of the craft snapped her back to the reality of her situation, which had not altered and was far from ideal. She stood up and walked around the craft, still getting used to the buffeting of the wind. The hull was pocked with dark scorch marks, about as wide as a fist. They had clearly taken quite a beating from GPS fighters as they had made their run into the atmosphere. As Maria circled around the ship, inspecting it, she spotted two larger blast marks on the hull just to the side of where Kurren’s engineering console was. One had actually penetrated through the hull plating, but luckily not anywhere near a key system. The same could not be said of the aft quarter, which had taken most of the damage. The main engines were badly damaged and it was these that were producing angry, electrical sparks.
Maria hurried back inside the cabin as quickly as she could and sat back down in her command chair. She tried the main console in front of her but it still would not turn on, so she switched on the auxiliary console on her chair and selected ‘damage control’. Pages of information zipped across the screen listing the extensive number of damaged systems, until she came to ‘main propulsion’ and stopped. A red border appeared around the screen as Maria read the words. She slumped into the chair, threw her head back and sighed.
She pushed herself out of the chair and knelt beside Kurren, checking his PVSM again. He was still stable, although his blood pressure and heart rate had dropped slightly, probably due to the drugs. She took out another capsule from the medipack, which was lying beside the hovering plate, pressed it into the injector and administered it to Kurren. She waited for a few moments and then leaned close to his ear. “Kurren, it’s Sal, can you hear me?” she said. No response. She waited a moment and tried again, and this time Kurren stirred. He opened his eyes, turned his head towards Maria and then grimaced.
“Sal? What happened? Where am I?” he said weakly, still groggy from the combination of head injury and powerful medications. He groaned. “I feel like I’ve got the mother of all hangovers…” He tried to lift his arms but the straps resisted him. “What the...? Sal, why am I strapped into this thing?” he said, and then panic took hold. “Am I okay?” Maria could hear the fear in his voice. “Sal, I am hurt?”
“You’re fine, old man,” Maria said, unclipping the straps so that Kurren could lift his arms. The plate dropped gently to the deck and Kurren sat up gingerly. He then anxiously touched the back of his head. “You hit your head pretty hard during the attack,” said Maria, “so I strapped you in here. I had planned to keep you unconscious for a while longer to let the meds work, and just wheel you out, but things have changed.”
Kurren looked around, quickly surveying the damage to the ship. “We made it then?”
“Just about,” said Maria. Kurren tried to stand, but dropped back, grimacing from the pain. He felt queasy from the concoction of drugs that were circulating around his system. Maria put a hand on his shoulder. “Take it easy, you’ve had a rough ride,” she said.
Kurren nodded and attempted a smile, then shivered. “It’s damn cold in here,” he said, “did they shoot out the heating controls too?”
Maria smiled. “Why, do you want me to get you a blanket?” she teased, happy to see the old Kurren coming back to life.
“Yes, please, nurse,” said Kurren, “and any chance of a bed bath?”
Maria laughed out loud and Kurren joined in, but soon regretted it as pain spasmed through his chest, making him cough. It tasted bitter, like burnt plastic. After he had recovered, he spat a globule of black phlegm on the silver decking.
“Lovely,” said Maria.
“I made it for you,” said Kurren smiling. “So, what’s the plan, captain?”
Maria’s face tensed up. “We’re in pretty bad shape,” she said, flatly. “We came down on automatic, just as planned, but the main drive is shot and the core is unstable.” Kurren looked over at the rear of the ship and saw the sparks arcing from the engineering consoles. “There’s nothing we can do to stop it,” said Maria, “so the plan is to salvage what we can and get the hell away from here before it blows.”
“How long?” asked Kurren. He had stopped smiling.
“No way to tell exactly,” said Maria, “but not long. We need to get moving; can you stand?”
Kurren looked down at his feet and saw that they were covered in gel. “You owe me a new pair of boots,” he said with fake seriousness.
“Perhaps you would have preferred your feet to be on fire?” Maria replied, sarcastically. “Now, can you stand?”
Kurren took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Only one way to find out...” he said. Slowly he pushed himself up with Maria standing beside him for support – the little she could manage with her own injuries to account for. “Damn Sal, can you stop wobbling, this is hard enough as it is,” said Kurren, half teasing, half serious. Then he saw the bandage around her leg, and concern took over. “Hey, Sal, are you okay?”
“It’s alright, nothing is broken,” Maria replied as both of them finally got to their feet.
“Well, I guess we both got lucky then,” Kurren said, stretching his limbs. He felt much better now that he was on his feet again. “I sure hope all this is worth it.”
“I hope so too,” said Maria, “but however it turns out, it’s going to be an intense experience.”
“What makes you say that?” said Kurren.
“Step outside,” Maria said, calmly, trying not to spoil the surprise. Kurren looked at her and then looked at the open hatchway; he hadn’t even noticed it was open until now. He looked back at Maria. “Go on, I can handle getting the supplies,” she said, comfortingly.
Kurren moved slowly to the hatchway and stepped outside, steadying himself on the door arch as he went. He stood on the soft earth just beyond the opening – in the same place Maria had stood earlier – and turned around and around, again and again, looking in every possible direction at the scene before him, chuckling to himself like a child. Maria heard him and went to the opening to watch. The smile on his face alone was almost worth the journey, whether their mission was a success or failure. It was the same look he’d had when he saw his newborn baby, she remembered. Maria had been there with him and his wife, Naomi, as they’d both just returned from an assignment, and Kurren didn’t even know he was a father until he walked in to the maternity ward and saw his son resting quietly in his wife’s arms. After Naomi and the baby had been killed following an attack two weeks later, Maria thought she would never see that look on his face again. Whatever else there was in store for them during the time they spent planetside, she was glad of this. Kurren came back inside and looked at Maria. He tried to speak, but no words came out – there was no way to describe it.
“I know,” said Maria, smiling back. “Come on, there will be plenty of time to talk about it later. Right now we’ve got to move.” They both set about cramming as much as they could into two emergency supply packs; food, extra clothes, tools and utensils, and as much medication as they could salvage.
After they had finished, Maria headed for the hatchway, but Kurren reached over and grabbed her arm to stop her. “Wait, there’s one thing we’ve forgotten,” he said. Maria looked at him, puzzled. She had everything she could imagine them needing already. Kurren moved over to another, smaller locker, near the hatchway. He took out two handguns from the rack inside, then two webbing belts, filled with ammo clips, and offered one set to Maria. “We don’t know what to expect,” he said to Maria. “We might need these.”
Maria hesitated. She disliked carrying a weapon, but understood the necessity. She nodded and took them. They both clipped on the webbing belts and slid the weapons into their holsters. Then they slung the bags over their shoulders and left the craft.
“Our first priority should be shelter,” Kurren said, bracing himself against the cold wind. “Then we can worry about what we came here to do.”
“And how we do it without a ship,” Maria added. As she spoke, a plum
e of blue-gray vapor hissed out of the rear of the craft and dissipated into the atmosphere.
“Emergency venting,” Kurren said, matter-of-factly. “We need to hurry. This thing is a ticking bomb; it could blow in twenty minutes or twenty hours, but I definitely don’t want to be around when it does.”
They moved as fast as they could to the top of the gorge that the ship had carved out in the ground, and looked around.
“There!” said Maria, pointing to a derelict house up a hill, surrounded by a smattering of trees. It was about a kilometer away. “That will do nicely for shelter. It looks like a lovely little summer house.”
“Yeah, and what if someone already lives there?” Kurren wondered, not amused.
Maria thought for a moment and shrugged. “Then I suppose we say hello.”
Chapter 4
Ethan wasted no time in volunteering for the scouting party, a request that came as no surprise to anyone. He had already packed his gear and changed into travelling clothes by the time the other two members of the party had arrived in the ranger hut. One of these was Rex Dorman, more commonly known amongst the rangers as ‘The Door Man’, as he had authority over who came and went through the settlement gates. It was a bad joke, but one that had stuck. He was a good head shorter than Ethan, with a lean build, but he was also far stronger than he looked. Dorman was in his early forties, which made him one of the oldest rangers in the settlement. He was fair-minded and Ethan respected him, but he didn’t personally know him that well and, like most people, Ethan didn’t consider him a friend.
Also in the party was Summer Rain, so-called because she happened to have been born on the day of a sudden and unexpected rainstorm during a blazing hot summer in the settlement, twenty years ago. In fact, ‘rainstorm’ was something of an understatement, hence why that day was infamous to those old enough to remember it. Her mother had been a traveler and part of a small caravan that went from settlement to settlement, trading what they had for what they needed at the time. Ethan found it strange that some people chose to live this way, rather than reside in the relative safety of a settlement. Dorman had told him that he’d once met an old man, who had spent his life travelling alone like a hermit, quite unconcerned at the prospect of roamers lurking around the next corner. The caravans were rare, though, and in Ethan’s twenty-one years as a resident of Forest Gate, he recalled perhaps only three or four travelling caravans visiting the settlement. They were formed of individuals or couples who had, for all sorts of different reasons, decided to join together and either search out territory for new settlements, or simply travel from place to place, because they didn’t like being stuck behind walls. But, despite being strangers, such caravans were always welcomed whenever they appeared, and no-one was ever prevented from choosing to leave and join a caravan if they so wished, even if their departure would leave a skill shortage. The guarding of the gates was simply precautionary, for the protection of everyone inside. But if anyone wanted to leave, for whatever reason, they were free to do so. This notion of freedom was extremely important and was common throughout all twenty-seven settlements – it was a principle that had come from the Firsts. The Firsts chose to leave all vestiges of the past behind and start again, and as such the freedom to choose your own path and your own destiny was of the utmost importance.
Unfortunately, the Maddening ate away a person’s principles and values, and it was roamers that had attacked the caravan that Summer’s mother travelled with. A ranger party from Forest Gate, out scouting for food and animals, had stopped the attack and fought off the roamers, but by that point most of the travelers were injured beyond the skill of any healer. Summer’s mother, heavily pregnant at the time, was one of the few who made it back to Forest Gate, but she never regained consciousness and died two days later as the storm raged overhead and rain fell as heavy as hail stones. Summer was cut from her mother’s lifeless body soon after, and – incredibly – survived. In fact, she didn’t just survive, she thrived. It was as if the storm had somehow relinquished some of its power and given her life. Summer grew up to be the superior of anyone in Forest Gate when it came to hunting and tracking, and was easily the settlement’s best archer. And she was a skilled fighter; even better than Ethan, though he would never admit it.
It was decided that Summer would live with Ethan and his older sister Katie, on account of their similar ages; Ethan being born only eight months previously, during a particularly bleak and hard winter. Summer was basically another sister to them, especially to Katie, and they formed a close bond over the years. This bond had only grown stronger in recent times, especially after Elijah’s father disappeared one night when Elijah was still a baby. No-one knew where he went or why, or what happened to him, but Ethan believed the pressure of being responsible for a new life was simply too great for him, and he ran. This was how it was for many people; living dangerously on the edge, always close to breaking. It was likely the reason why there were so few children in all of the twenty-seven settlements. Why bring new life into such a desolate existence? Katie was different, however; she was an optimist, and a powerful, positive force in the settlement, the best evidence for which was Elijah himself.
Elijah also adored Summer, and as he had gotten older, it was clear he had become totally smitten by her. Elijah wasn’t the only one, because Summer was beautiful. She had deep auburn hair, usually worn in a short ponytail, an athletic body as a consequence of her training, and bright hazel-green eyes. When Ethan and Summer were teenagers, all the boys lusted after her and would badger Ethan to put in a good word, introduce them, and generally suss out what Summer thought about them. But she wasn’t really interested in being chased or wooed; she was more interested in competing with the boys at whatever game they were playing... and beating them.
Ethan hadn’t been oblivious to her charms either, but this was a source of much internal conflict. Ethan had grown up with Summer, and although they were not related, and Katie did her best to encourage them, he was deeply ashamed whenever he caught himself staring at her like the other boys. They had kissed one evening when Summer was sixteen and Ethan had just turned seventeen. Given their aptitude for physical activities, both had been selected to join the relatively elite ranks of the rangers. This was as a secondary duty, because the primary responsibility of all the settlers was to provide for the essentials, such as food, shelter and clean water. Summer had instigated the kiss, quite to Ethan’s surprise, but despite his initial shock he didn’t pull away. Summer had then dragged him into one of the grain stores, and they kissed again. It had progressed to some rather inept fumbling before they were disturbed by the storekeeper dropping a measuring pan inside the storehouse. They had then looked sheepishly at each other for a time, neither knowing what to do next. The interruption was long enough for Ethan to feel shame and guilt stab at his insides, and he felt that he had somehow done wrong. He fled, leaving Summer behind, confused and, as he would later discover, deeply hurt. For weeks afterwards things were awkward between them; Ethan trying his best to avoid being alone with her and even speaking to her for a while. About two months later, Summer stopped Ethan in the middle of the settlement square and demanded he talk to her and explain what she’d done wrong. It was quite a scene, and the talk of Forest Gate for several weeks. Ethan grew tired of the raised eyebrows, knowing smirks, and occasional ironic pats on the back, followed by a ‘telling wink’ from the older rangers who were training him. But soon it was forgotten for some other more salacious piece of gossip and things returned to normal. Ethan and Summer became friends again, and even managed to joke about it, but there was still tension between them, even now.
“She loves you. You do know that?” Katie would often tell Ethan, especially when he spent any time with Summer, which was often because of their training.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Katie, she’s like a sister to me,” Ethan would reply, or words to that effect, trying as much to convince himself as to convince Katie. But Ethan knew she was ri
ght. The attraction was undeniable, and he still felt it too, though he had become skilled at hiding it.
“She’s not your sister, Ethan, I am,” Katie would continue, undeterred by Ethan’s attempt to bury the subject. Ethan had also become skilled at hiding his feelings from Katie, but unlike most people, Katie could see through his unruffled calm. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, or her,” she would push on. “You deserve a chance to be happy, and so does Summer. This place doesn’t give us many chances. Life throws us ‘lucky’ survivors more bad luck than good, so take your good luck when it comes.”
But Ethan would just make excuses and find a way to leave or change the subject. Talking about it, contemplating it, gave Ethan a sick, nervous feeling in his stomach. Many times he’d considered just ignoring his gut, and telling Summer how he felt, but he could never manage it; something always held him back.
Ethan was rudely awakened from his daydreaming by a firm punch to the top of his arm. “Ow!” he protested. It actually had hurt. Summer never pulled her punches, even when playing.
“Hello? Anyone in there?” Summer said, sarcastically. “We’re ready, I say again.” Ethan looked up to see Summer and Dorman both looking at him quizzically.
“Are you with us, ranger?” said Dorman stoically. Dorman always called him ‘ranger’, never Ethan. It was his way of keeping things professional between them, and assert his authority as the older and more responsible ranger. “When I say with us, I mean coming with us on this fool’s errand that will probably get us all killed,” Dorman went on, enjoying himself now. “Or is your daydream more important? Care to share?”