by G J Ogden
“We’re here precisely because of your immunity to the toxic effects of orrum radiation poisoning,” said Maria, unable to fully mask her own irritation. “The people on the moon base do not possess the same resistance.”
“Why do you need to?” said Talia, confused. “You don’t live here, on the planet.”
“No, I appreciate that, but it wasn’t only the planet that was affected by the collapse of the refinery.” Maria replied, feeling now that the meeting was a mistake. Perhaps Plan B should have been their first choice, after all. “The moon was also bombarded with debris, albeit to a far lesser degree,” she continued. “Many died, but the structure of the base, and the lack of atmosphere, meant that radiation contamination was largely averted. But not prevented entirely. We had to fight to survive, just like you.”
Summer spat out a laugh. “You’re nothing like us!” she cried, enraged. “You’re the cause of all this. Whether directly or indirectly, it doesn’t matter. You’re the reason why there are so few of us, fighting to survive, living in fear every day from roamers and the maddened. It’s all because of you!”
Maria tried to reason. “We didn’t cause this; we were victims, like you. We were attacked.”
Summer stood up angrily, throwing the chair out from behind her. It crashed against the wall and broke. “Victims!?” Summer yelled. She hammered her fists on the table and leaned in, glaring at Maria. “Dorman was a victim,” she added, coldly. “A victim of the things you created. Go and tell his family how we should feel sorry for you. Go on, they’re just outside.”
“I’m really sorry about your fellow ranger, but blaming us isn’t fair.” said Maria.
“No, what’s unfair is you asking for our help.” Summer screamed. “Why don’t you tell Dorman’s son how unfair this is for you?”
The argument continued, but Ethan was only vaguely aware of it. Since Maria’s presentation had ended, Ethan had been quiet, lost in his own thoughts. Much of the last few minutes had washed over him, registering more on a subconscious level. War had always been a theory, of course, amongst the few who ever talked about the Fall, but to Ethan it seemed impossible. What war could possibly have led to such destruction, and for what purpose? Surely, one side would want something to ‘win’, so there would have been no reason to lay waste to everything. And since all that remained after the Fall was a desperate few survivors, Ethan never believed in the war hypothesis. To him, the only logical explanation was some sort of natural disaster – on a catastrophic scale, to be sure – but not engineered or contrived by human minds. And, as one of the few who had seen the great machines in the cities, he had always held out a faint hope that some had escaped the devastation, and fled to faraway, safe lands, or even to the stars, and would one day return and help rebuild their world.
Maria had shattered these fantasies in less time than it took Ethan to cook a meal. War had been the cause; their ancestors had been at fault. And though some did survive, out in the darkness above them, they were not saviors. They had finally revealed themselves only to ask the beleaguered planetsiders for help. Boiled down to the basic facts, it was almost an insult, and Ethan could see why Summer was angered.
Ethan sat at the table, numb to the shouting around him, feeling like a naive fool. He had encouraged the search for these people, and persuaded the administrators to hear them out, confident in his own mind that they were on the verge of some universal truth, something that would give them hope for a better future, maybe give them direction. But, here they sat, the cold truth laid bare. And the truth was that two strangers had come, asking for help, and the administrators wanted no part of it. The story of the Fall was like a cautionary tale – a fairy story – taught to children to make them fear the past, so they would look to the future, free from its corrupt influence. These two strangers were a living reminder of that time, an embodiment of everything the settlers were taught to fear, and Ethan could understand why their presence was unwanted. But he had abandoned those beliefs long ago, and even though these visitors had not provided the truths he’d yearned for, they still represented a link to their past, and perhaps still a way to make sense of the future. He was not afraid of them and he would not ignore their plea for help. Perhaps it was guilt over Dorman’s death in pursuit of his own, selfish obsessions, or stubborn pride, or just a need for something good to come from this, but Ethan needed to finish what he’d started.
He looked up at Summer, her clenched fists still pressed into the table, unable to contain the anger that was now spilling out of her in the direction of Maria Salus, as if this woman alone was responsible for the billions that had died. For the death of her own mother. As if by pushing her away, by hurting her, it would somehow make up for everything that had happened. Ethan resolved there and then not to allow it. He would stand up for the strangers, even if no-one else would. It was his responsibility. And, perhaps, somewhere along the way, they would help him find the meaning he still desperately needed. He had to believe that was possible, because he had to believe in something.
Ethan stood up and turned to face Summer, his back to Maria. He tried to inch her away from the table, to cut them off from each other, so that Summer would focus on him, and not her anger. He reached out and held Summer’s shoulders, and looked into her eyes. “Hey, Summer, back off,” he said calmly, assertively. “These people weren’t even born when the Fall happened. They came looking for our help.”
Summer looked back at Ethan with an expression that was a mixture of surprise and disgust. She firmly pushed Ethan away and took three paces backwards, leaving a clear gap between them. Her fists remained clenched at her sides, but her dagger-like stare had returned to Maria. She did not want to meet Ethan’s eyes, because she knew he would douse the rage she felt, and she still wanted to feel it. She wanted to direct all her anger at this woman. Ethan would calm her, and Summer knew it. He had that power.
“I don’t want to help them,” Summer said bitterly, still looking at Maria. “I don’t want them here at all.” Then she dared to look at Ethan, her resolve set. “All of this, it means nothing,” she said, shaking her head. “What does it matter how it happened? The planet is still dead.”
“They didn’t kill it, Summer,” said Ethan, trying to reason.
“It makes no difference,” said Summer, not understanding why Ethan had jumped to the defense of these strangers. Her anger was now directed at him. “They are not like us,” she continued. “We owe them nothing! Let them solve their own problems, like we’ve had to.”
Ethan tried again to move closer but Summer recoiled. He held a hand out towards her, hating that she was distancing herself from him, but hating more that he empathized with what she was saying, but was choosing to set himself against her. “Pushing them away won’t change anything either,” pleaded Ethan. “Okay, I admit it, this is not the answer I’d hoped for. And maybe I was wrong to bring them here, to convince you to go looking for them with me. But it’s done, and I will not turn my back on them now. What sort of people would that make us if we ignored their call for help?”
Summer recoiled. “But you’d turn your back on us? On me?” she said, aghast. “How many more have to die for your quest, Ethan? When will you accept that there are no answers? There is just this life. It’s just us. We have to stick together.”
“We survived by helping each other,” said Ethan, upset that Summer had used Dorman’s death against him. She knew Ethan well enough to predict the guilt and shame he would be feeling over the ranger’s death, and by bringing it up, publicly, she meant to hurt him. “You’re just angry,” Ethan continued, feeling the anger swelling within himself. “I know you; you wouldn’t abandon someone in need. That’s not who you are.” He was pushing now; he wanted to force her to see his point of view by challenging her own sense of pride and honor. But Summer was in no mood to be manipulated.
“I know who I am, Ethan,” she said, defiantly, “and I know you, better than you know yourself. I’m telling you n
ow, none of this… this childlike pursuit to find your angels – it won’t bring them back.” Now it was Ethan who recoiled. His stomach twisted into knots and he felt sick. “Your parents are dead,” Summer continued, callously. “It was senseless and meaningless, and that’s just the way it is. No flash of light across the sky will make it any different. No mystical truth. It’s time you dealt with it!”
Ethan dropped his head and stared aimlessly at the ground, words escaping him. Summer did know him well; better even than Katie. Ethan had confided in her, as one of the few people – perhaps even the only person – that he truly trusted and connected with. And now she was using it against him. But worse than this, she was right. “Summer, I…” Ethan tried to speak, but faltered.
Summer knew she had struck him hard by bringing up his parents’ death, and instantly regretted what she had said. Guilt stabbed inside her, but she was still too angry, too proud, to take it back. She hated that Ethan could not be happy in the settlement, with this life, with her. She wanted to hurt him, to make him see her pain and anger. It would be easier than telling him what was really in her heart. Part of her wanted to say sorry, to run over and hold him, to tell him she loved him, and that he should live in the now, with her, and stop looking to the stars. She wanted to be the light that filled the void a meaningless death leaves behind. She wanted to heal him, but she could not. So instead, she would hurt him.
“‘I’? ‘I’, Ethan? Forget about yourself for one moment!” Summer would not let him speak, would not let him get to her. There was no way back now, she had committed. “What about Elijah? Elijah needs you! Does he matter less than these strangers? What about your sister, should she lose someone else she loves because of your obsession? You should be ashamed of yourself!”
“Summer, please!” Ethan implored. But she would not be placated, not this time.
“No, I’ve had enough of this!” she spat. “I’ve had it with not being enough, so go! You’re more like them than us anyway,” and she pushed past him and ran out of the room before Ethan could have a chance to stop her.
“Summer, wait!” Ethan called after her, but she was already out of sight. He ran after her, desperate for her to understand. More than anything he wanted and needed her support. He needed her with him, as she always had been. But Summer was gone, and this time he was truly on his own.
Chapter 14
There was a long and uncomfortable silence. Summer’s resistance had long been clear, but the outburst was unexpected, at least to Maria who was feeling shaken and anxious. She had expected the meeting to be difficult, but certainly nothing so vehement and hostile. Maria looked at Kurren, and there were even cracks showing in his armor, with sweat beading on his brow. The other two administrators were talking to each other in hushed voices, while Talia simply watched the two visitors, with implacable, eerie coolness. Finally, Maria decided to speak.
“Should... should you go after them?”
“No, I think it is best to let them go,” said Talia, calmly.
Maria opened her mouth to speak again, but nothing came out. They had prepared contingencies should there be resistance towards them. Different arguments they could make, and different ways to convince them. But this situation was like nothing they had planned for. Talia looked almost smug. Had she planned this? Had she allowed this meeting knowing how it would self-destruct and leave no choice but to turn them away?
“We have not been entirely honest with you,” Talia said, cutting the silence again.
“Oh?” Kurren said, defensively. He leaned in and rested his arms on the table. “And how is that?” It was the first time he had spoken since they had all sat down. Now, realizing that their plan had failed, and sensing a darkening mood, he would be a silent partner no more.
Talia regarded Kurren for a while, taking her measure of him. He held her gaze, not blinking once. “It is true that we know little of what happened before the Fall, Mr. Kurren,” said Talia. “But you are mistaken if you think that we know nothing. Furthermore, you are not the first remnants of the pre-Fall civilization to visit here.” Maria was surprised by Talia’s sudden honestly, and it showed on her face. Talia appeared more relaxed and forthright now the rangers had left. “It was many years ago, more than a generation ago in fact. And their story was different to yours, as they had not intended to come here. They had crashed, like you. Shot down, as it happens.” Kurren flinched at the mention of this. “They too spoke of a conflict,” Talia continued, “although the detail of that meeting is lost, the outcome is well-remembered, at least amongst the administrators.”
“The outcome?” said Kurren.
Talia sat back in her chair slightly and folded her arms. “Unfortunately, they did not... integrate very well,” she said.
“Integrate?” Maria repeated, confused.
Talia looked at her and her lip curled slightly, betraying some emotion for the first time. It appeared to be a sore point. “Yes, integrate, Miss Salus,” she said curtly. The switch to ‘Miss Salus’ was telling, Maria thought. The tone of the conversation had certainly turned. Talia continued. “You have already seen the effect that talk of the Fall and what came before has on people. It divides us, Miss Salus. We, here on this planet, are the survivors of your fallen civilization. We have battled hardships you cannot comprehend to survive and leave that time behind. And we want no further part of it.”
Kurren now also folded his arms. “It seems that at least one of you does,” he said.
Talia’s eyes flicked over to meet his. “Ethan is a romantic,” she said. “There are very few of those left in this world. The hard life we lead tends to drain the idealism from people, and leave us only with essential truths.”
Maria felt the hair prickle on the back of her neck. It matched the spiky atmosphere around the table. She said calmly, “And what is the truth, Administrator Talia?”
Now Talia’s expression betrayed her feelings. She was angry, and it was starting to bubble to the surface, despite her attempts to mask it. “The truth, Miss Salus, is that you represent a world that no longer exists, and that your very presence here serves to create disharmony and division.”
Now it was Kurren’s turn to betray some anger. “You set this up, didn’t you?” he said. “You knew that the red-head, Summer, would explode, and you knew it would create a rift between her and the kid? You’re setting them against us, hoping he’ll side with her.”
“You set them against each other the moment you arrived,” replied Talia.
“Don’t you even want to know why we’re here?” asked Maria.
“I don’t care why you’re here!” Talia retorted, bitterness clear in her voice and expression for the first time. Whatever she was holding beneath the surface was close to flowing over. Talia appeared to recognize this and drew back, taking a deep breath and exhaling it slowly, before adding, “All that matters is what happens now.”
Maria understood the meaning. “You mean, whether we ‘integrate’ or cause more trouble,” she said, pointedly.
Talia did not respond directly to the question, but Maria could see the truth in her eyes. “You are free to remain in this settlement,” Talia continued, “providing you play a role here like everyone else. This is what the previous visitors we mentioned failed to do, and why they volunteered to go their own way.”
Maria wondered what became of them, and just how voluntarily they had left. Given the bleakness of the landscape, and the danger from roamers, she imagined they did not last long. In fact, without meds, they probably succumbed to the Maddening themselves and became of one the creatures they had fought and killed. It was not a fate she wished to share.
Talia was still speaking, “... and on the clear understanding that you do not discuss where you are from, or what you know of the Fall with anyone in the settlement.”
“And if we don’t comply with your conditions?” Maria was careful to keep the tone of the question neutral, so as not to betray any rebellious intent.
There was a brief silence as Talia also considered her reply. “Then we will provide you with supplies and equipment, and you may follow the path of your predecessors and leave.”
Maria nodded, the reality of the situation now clear to her and, judging from the look on Kurren’s face, to him too. Not so voluntary, after all, she thought. Kurren looked over at Maria and there was an unspoken understanding. The contingency plan would be required, it seemed.
“Can we have some time to think about it?” Maria asked.
This appeared to surprise Talia, who said, “of course you can, Maria.” The familiar, subtle smile was back again, along with the intentional switch back to first names. “You may remain in the settlement, under the charge of the rangers until you reach your decision,” said Talia. And then she added, almost warmly, “We could certainly use people of your abilities around here.” Another brief pause followed and then she added delicately, “To avoid any further... excitement... I would require that you remain out of sight until you decide.”
“We understand, of course,” said Maria, and then she made the first play of their contingency plan. “Perhaps we can stay with the ranger, Ethan? He’s already aware of us, and maybe we can help to smooth things over with him. He seemed pretty upset, and that’s our doing.”
Talia was clearly suspicious of this request, but she didn’t want to expose the visitors to any more of the settlement’s inhabitants than was necessary at this point. “Very well,” she said. “But Summer will also accompany you.”
Maria’s expression remained calm, though inside she was cursing. She knew the addition of the firebrand ranger, Summer, would make their task harder. “Of course,” she said, mirroring Talia’s placid smile.