The Planetsider Trilogy

by G J Ogden

  The hermit glanced briefly across to Ethan, who was anxiously watching him, his eyes glistening.

  “You never did say where you were from, young lady?”

  Gaia sucked her bottom lip and then sighed. “I am afraid that is quite difficult to explain.” Again, she looked to Ethan for help, and this time he responded to the subtle invitation to step in.

  “You are actually the reason Gaia and I met,” said Ethan, lifting his chin and straightening his posture. “When I asked you about the location of a tunnel inside a mountain.”

  The hermit rocked back on his heels and stroked his chin. “As I recall, I suggested you not delve too deeply, because of what lurked in the darkness.” He looked across to Gaia and Yuna and grinned. “But it looks like I was wrong about them not being friendly!”

  “Actually, you were right about there being some pretty unfriendly things down there too, it’s just that Gaia and her companions were not among them!”

  The hermit nodded, suddenly taking on the appearance of a wise old sage. That he could so quickly switch between being the most erudite person Ethan had ever known to bordering on insane never ceased to amaze him. He remained focused on Gaia, and his eyes seemed sharper still.

  “So, you are the living legacy of the UEC’s great sub-surface city experiments?”

  Gaia was completely taken aback by the hermit’s sudden and accurate observation, and though a dozen questions immediately jumped into her mind, she was unable to articulate any of them.

  “You have been cooped up inside that bloody mountain all this time, eh?”

  “Yes…” said Gaia, still in shock. “Though only ten of us remain.”

  “And if we can’t find a way to stop the Maddening, no-one will survive,” Ethan said, cutting back in. “The space station fragment that hit the city near Forest Gate, the one known as Green Haven, shook thousands of those creatures to the surface, escaping from the burning lower layers. It’s only a matter of time before they overrun our settlements.”

  “And you think my blood can help you create this cure?” said the hermit. Ethan nodded, and the hermit waved another hand at him dismissively. “Bah, I’m no more special than you, lad.”

  “We both know that’s not true,” Ethan replied, deadly serious. “The truth is, you may be our last hope. And was it not you who always drilled into me the importance of not losing hope? Well, it’s time to make good on your own rhetoric, old man.”

  The hermit’s eyes narrowed, and he studied each of them in turn, as if his retinas were scanning devices, peering into their inner thoughts. He then rested back against the kitchen worktop and sighed, heavily.

  “It wasn’t only the technology from the time before the Fall that caused all this loss, Ethan; it was also the greed of the people.” He seemed to be growing angry; an emotion that Ethan had never seen, or ever expected to see, from the typically jovial old man. “It was the selfishness and the arrogance of all the leaders, not just the UEC; though they were the worst. I vowed I would never again connect myself to that world, for as long as I lived.”

  Yuna appeared to be completely entranced by the hermit’s revelations, but Gaia had recovered her wits and had managed to process the magnitude of what the hermit was saying.

  “And for how long have you lived?” Gaia interjected, but then decided to re-phrase the question more pointedly. “Surely, you are not suggesting that were alive during the time of the Fall?”

  This got the hermit’s attention, as it also did for Yuna and Ethan, who both leaned in to ensure they could hear the old man’s answer clearly. The hermit focused his clever eyes back at each of them, and then ambled over to the window, resting on the sill and staring out at the glassy lake, which was calm and tranquil, unlike his own turbulent mind.

  “I was only thirteen years old when it happened,” he said, without turning to face them. “When the sky turned to fire, and the lands and cities soon followed.”

  “Surely, that can’t be?” said Yuna, utterly aghast. “How have you survived for so long?”

  The hermit turned around slowly and, weighed down by the mass of all his accumulated memories and experiences, he suddenly looked as old as he really was. “I have no idea how, young Yuna, I only know that I am still here.” He managed a soft smile. Then he stared into space and his eyes became as glassy as the lake at the foot of the hill. “I was here when it happened, in this rickety old cottage.” He looked around the room, as if he was thirteen again. “It’s been in my family for generations; an old-fashioned curiosity, that was as much a museum as a home. We would get visitors who came to see how folks used to live, long centuries earlier. Little did they know that people would soon live like this again.” The hermit grunted a half-laugh. “The world has a sense of irony, no?”

  No-one responded; they were all entirely transfixed.

  “This region was remote enough to be spared the horrors of the early years. But the Maddening still took everyone I loved, and by the time I was nigh on sixteen, I was the oldest in at least a thirty-mile radius of this little cottage.”

  “You stayed here, alone?” said Ethan, managing to form the words despite his mouth being completely dry.

  “Aye, I stayed apart from the others, at first up here, and then when the roamers came, further into the mountains, where nothing lived.”

  The hermit circled the table and dropped heavily in the chair that Summer had vacated earlier. “I would come back to the fractured settlements from time to time, trading what I’d found for supplies, but each time there were fewer and fewer survivors. Some had turned, many more had just given up and taken their own lives. I thought it was the end, I truly did.”

  “But it wasn’t,” said Gaia, delicately. “Something happened to give the survivors a reason to live. What was it?”

  It was a leading question, and the hermit knew it, but he smiled all the same, and some of the old sparkle came back into his eyes. “Hope, of course!” he said, with a sudden extra verve. “As a boy, I remembered my grandmother telling me stories; ancient folklore about monsters and fairies and all that stuff and nonsense. It would scare me half to death!” He gave a throaty chuckle, and then continued. “Well, to stop myself from being scared witless at night, I’d invent a few stories of my own; but instead of monsters, I created heroes. I’d think of them standing by my bed, protecting me, and it made me feel safe. One day, I journeyed off to trade with a small settlement, and I found them on the edge of a precipice, ready to give in and to self-destruct. So, I told them about my protectors, and how they kept me safe while I was alone in the mountains, so long as I didn’t forsake them.”

  Ethan laughed and shook his head, as if he’d just got the punchline to a joke he’d been told earlier. Gaia and Yuna both shot him a dirty look, wondering what was so amusing that it merited interrupting the hermit’s incredible story, and then turned back to the old man.

  “What did you tell them?” said Yuna, unable to contain her excitement. “Who were your protectors?”

  “Ah, it was just something I made up on the spur of the moment,” said the hermit, wafting his hands around dismissively again. “Something about the flashes of light in the night sky, as I recall, though it was a few years ago, lass!

  Yuna and Gaia looked at each other and laughed, realizing finally what Ethan had already understood.

  “They had all been too young to know about the refinery, you see, and so didn’t know that the lights were just fragments of it burning up in the atmosphere,” the hermit continued, and then he chuckled merrily. “Anyway, the point was it gave them hope, do you see? If something was watching over them then they’d be okay, so long as they didn’t lose hope.”

  The hermit sprang up, suddenly lively again, and skipped back to the window, spotting Summer sitting on a cluster of rocks, facing out towards the great lake. “Back then hope was more powerful than anything. Stronger even than love.”

  “We need your help again, old friend,” said Ethan. “But, this t
ime fairy stories won’t be enough to save us.”

  The hermit continued to look at Summer, who was as still as the stones that surrounded her, and would have been invisible were it not for her vivid red hair blowing in the breeze. His eyes narrowed as his old mind worked overtime.

  “Aye, lad, so be it,” said the hermit, wistfully. “I know of a place by the shore of the lake; a scientific laboratory that survived the bombardments. Perhaps, young Gaia can work her magic there.”

  “It’s worth a try,” said Gaia. “Assuming it has the equipment I need and we can restore power.”

  “I’m sure you’ll figure it out, lass,” said the hermit, glancing at her with a gummy smile. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get some air.”

  The hermit grabbed his coat and swept out of the room, while the others excitedly discussed the startling revelations of the last few minutes. He opened and closed the faded red door so softly that only the chill of the air stealing inside provided any hint it had been opened at all, and grabbed his stick, which was resting against the wall just outside. He inhaled the cool air deeply and then casually trotted up to the mossy, weather-worn cluster of rocks where Summer sat, as still as a statue.

  “What do you want, old man?” said Summer, hearing the tap, tap, tap of his cane as the hermit approached.

  “A bit of peace and quiet, but we don’t always get what we want now, do we?” replied the old hermit, giving as good as he got. Then he came to a stop just behind her and added. “So, the lady baker died then?”

  Summer spun around. “What? How did you know?…”

  “Just an intuition,” said the hermit, solemnly, wearing a compassionate, sad smile. “I’ve seen loss, young Summer. A lifetime’s worth. But, I must admit that learning of Katie’s passing saddens me greatly.”

  Summer’s eyes narrowed and her lips parted as if to speak, but she just turned and stared away into the distance again.

  “How is her son coping; the young ranger, Elijah? He still has you and Ethan, at least.”

  Summer again didn’t answer, but the hermit observed that her shoulders and neck tightened at the mention of Elijah’s name, and his head fell low. He shuffled around to the other side of the cluster of rocks and perched himself on one of the smaller stones beside Summer.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “What do you have to be sorry for, old man?” snapped Summer, her words nearly as biting as the wind. “You’ve spent all your life alone, caring for nothing and no-one. You speak of loss, but you’ve never had anything to lose.”

  “It wasn’t always so,” said the hermit, softly, allowing Summer’s hard words to wash over him like water on wax.

  Summer shut her eyes and massaged the bridge of her nose. She was allowing her grief and self-hatred to flow out towards others again, and the hermit was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

  “Sorry, you didn’t deserve that,” she said, coming as close to humility as it was possible for her to get. “Recently, it’s been… difficult for me.”

  The hermit nodded and let out a long sigh. “Don’t be sorry; to lose someone you love… well, there is nothing that can fill that void.” He looked at her with an intensity that penetrated into her soul. “But, you must not be consumed by it, Summer, do you hear? This planet offers no forgiveness; it gives nothing, but will take everything from you, if you let it. If you give in to fear, as I once did.”

  “What happened?” said Summer, warming to the old man, as everyone eventually did.

  “It’s a long story… perhaps one for another time,” said the hermit, momentarily becoming lost in his own thoughts. “Let’s just say I couldn’t face losing them. So I cut myself off; I tried to convince myself I didn’t care, and didn’t feel. I ran. But no matter how far I travelled, I couldn’t put them out of my mind. And, I tried, Summer, believe me I tried. So I came back, but by then it was already too late. Roamers had found the settlement and killed them.”

  For a time they sat together in silence, staring out at the lake as rays of sunlight penetrated through the clouds and cast chaotic patterns over the tops of the snow-capped mountains.

  Summer turned to the old hermit again. “How did you survive it?” she asked, desperate for an answer that she could use. “How do you cope?”

  “Cope with losing them?” asked the hermit.

  “Not just that. How did you get past the anger? How do you stop hating yourself?”

  “It just came with time, young Summer,” the hermit replied, jabbing the end of his stick into the inky black soil. “Something I’ve had a lot of.”

  “I’m afraid time is the one thing I don’t have.”

  The hermit scowled and shuffled closer. “What do you mean by that?”

  “I’m dying.”

  The hermit recoiled, and then his spindly fingers gripped the handle of his stick tighter, driving it deeper into the dirt.

  “Genetic damage they called it, whatever that means. It’s like the Maddening, except I just die, rather than turn into one of those things. I guess I should at least be grateful for that. Ethan believes your blood can save me, and, well…”

  “You don’t want him to give up hope.”

  Summer smiled at the old man. “Something like that. But, it’s not just about me. You see, I’m…”

  Summer hesitated, but the hermit finished her sentence. “Pregnant?”

  “How the hell do you know all this?” said Summer, but then she raised her eyebrows and answered her own question, “Don’t tell me, it was just an intuition.”

  The hermit nodded, but did not elaborate on the source of his insight. “And how do you feel about that?”

  “I don’t know,” said Summer, honestly. “I don’t see it as a kindness to bring life into this world. But Ethan tried to convince me otherwise.”

  “Aye, well it’s a hard world, and by rights it should have died long ago, the same as us. But for some reason it fights on, and so must we.”

  “Even if we have no hope of winning?”

  “There’s always hope,” said the hermit, but although Summer had heard him utter these words a dozen times before, this time he sounded distant and unsure. “At least, that’s what I always told myself, and others. Maybe it’s time I actually meant something by it.”

  The hermit slid off the rock and then prodded Summer’s shoulder with his stick, leaving a muddy mark. “Come on, we have work to do.”

  Summer tutted and brushed off the mud with the back of her hand, but then she noticed that the hermit had already skipped away.

  “What do you mean we have work to do?” Summer called out as the old man practically danced back towards the cottage. “Hey, where are you going?”

  The hermit glanced back at her and the characteristic twinkle was back in his eyes. “To find you some hope…”

  Chapter 19

  Muscles still burning after the frantic escape from the flight training campus, Maria and Ashley Jansen trudged down the stairs to the disused basement room of Ashley’s apartment block. There were already two other people inside, who Maria recognized as the stocky man and mousy-haired younger woman from their earlier encounter in the alley. They were standing behind a table that looked like it wasn’t part of the regular furniture, in what was otherwise a sterile, empty space.

  “I believe you’ve already met and Byrne and Etta,” said Ashley, shutting the door behind Maria.

  Maria nodded respectfully at Byrne, “I’m sorry about the kick to the... you know. No hard feelings?”

  “Not much feeling at all yet,” Byrne replied, and Maria couldn’t tell whether it was sarcasm or just excessive honesty. “But I’m okay, thanks for asking.”

  “Both are members of our little resistance group in this sector,” Ashley continued. “Neither have any connection to the Security or Flying Corps, and so they can more easily stay under the radar of the sector commanders. Both have also shown remarkable skill in rooting out information.”

  “What news of
Karl?” said Maria, fidgeting with the bracelet on her wrist. “Is he alive?”

  Byrne stepped forward and placed a portable holo emitter on the table. He tapped the activation button and stepped back again, and a holo image of the government sector appeared in front of them.

  “From what we can gather, the chatter among the blue boots is that Major Page was captured alive,” Byrne began, and Maria felt some of the knots and coils in her muscles relax. “He put up a hell of a fight, by the sounds of it.”

  “Do you know where he was taken?” asked Maria.

  “We’re not sure, but our contact in the government sector says there has been some unusual activity in the Teardrop. Both Governor Kuba and Major Darien were seen entering it, along with a few others.”

  Ashley frowned. “The Teardrop? That place is barely used for anything these days. Surely, they would have taken him to a Security Corps compound instead?”

  Maria rested her palms on the table and peered into the holo image, before reaching in and expanding the area around the Teardrop, pushing the surrounding buildings out of the image with a flick of her wrist.

  “Has General Kurren’s death been made public yet?” asked Maria, directing the question to Byrne, but it was actually Etta that answered.

  “No, the sector commanders are still coming down hard on any gossip,” Etta paused and glanced down at her feet. “I know, because my brother is part of a unit in sector six. The commander loyal to Kurren had him beaten and locked up overnight simply for asking why the general hasn’t been seen for so long.”

  “That’s why they’re using the Teardrop,” said Maria, thumping a fist on the table, which shook the holo emitter and caused the image to shudder and distort. “They don’t want Karl to be seen, and taking him to a main security compound would create a lot of attention and gossip.”

  “But why the Teardrop?” said Ashley. “It’s just a giant conference room.”