by Craig Zerf
‘I dunno,’ disagreed the marine. ‘I think that it’s pretty cool. Better than quoting Walt Disney. Or Garfield.’
‘True,’ said the Prof. ‘However, before I go, good marine, what else to do?’
‘You’re going to have to set up some sort of formal command structure. Who takes over if you kick the big one or get injured? And make sure that it’s not Conradie. That dude couldn’t organise a party in a brewery. I would say one of the older boys, but it’s your call. And not only your replacement. You need to put a couple of people in with the nurse to learn what she knows. You need a system of repair and maintenance set up. Someone needs to be in charge of the weapons and the people that are going to be using them. Also, you have an extensive library, get a few scholars to start doing research; natural replacement for drugs, antibiotics, pain killers and such. You have around five thousand rounds of ammunition. Sounds like a lot but it won’t last forever. Get someone onto making bows and arrows. Perhaps crossbows, slings, spears, pikes. Send out search parties and see if you can acquire some horses, use force if necessary…’
The Prof held up a hand. ‘Enough for now, Nathaniel. I think that I shall take your advice, get a little sustenance and retire for the night.’
He stood up and offered his hand. Nathaniel shook it.
‘Thank you, Sergeant.’ said the older man. ‘Thank you very much.’
Nathaniel finished his cigarette and then sat alone until the sun went down and the moon, three quarter full, rose bright and clear, shining through the collage of color formed by the aurora.
He smelt her fragrance before he heard her. Floral. Fresh cotton. Citrus.
She sat down next to him without asking.
‘Maggie,’ he greeted.
‘Nathaniel,’ she answered.
He took out his pack and offered. She shook her head. ‘I’ll share one, if you don’t mind,’ she said. ‘One or two puffs is about my limit.’
Hogan lit and offered. Maggie took a small drag. The smoke drifted from her mouth. Moonlight white against pale skin. Lips a deep pink. Highlights of lunar-blue woven through the strands of her copper and golden hair.
‘What was London like?’ She asked the marine.
He hesitated before he answered. Remembering the Professor telling him that Maggie’s parents lived in the city.
‘The truth,’ she said, sensing his hesitance.
‘It’s bad,’ he said. ‘Very bad. Worse than one could ever imagine. Where about did your folks live?’
‘Central. The Barbican. Right in the middle.’
‘Were they young, old, fit, healthy?’
Maggie shook her head. ‘I’m an only child. Born late to parents who had long since given up any idea of having children. It was my father’s second marriage. My mother is twenty years younger than him. He’s almost eighty now. Pills for high blood pressure, statins for cholesterol, type 2 diabetes.’
Nathaniel raised an eyebrow. ‘Maggie, what can I say that you don’t already know. I’m sorry. Sometimes life sucks.’
He glanced sideways at the girl. A single tear rolled down her cheek. The moonlight turned it into a tiny rivulet of blue ice against her soft pale skin. The marine said nothing. Uncomfortable with emotions. Trained to kill, not to empathise. Eventually he spoke.
‘Hey, you know, I grew up in a town called Toad Suck, Arkansas?’
Maggie giggled. ‘Toad Suck?’
‘Yep. Toad Suck, Perry County, Arkansas. Home of the famous Toad Suck Daze music festival. Population some 60 000. The Hogans have been Toad Suckers for five generations. Been sucking for over two hundred years.’
The girl laughed out loud. ‘You made that up.’
Nathaniel shook his head. ‘No ways. We had a big old double story house on Ira Gill Lane. My daddy ran the Arkansas Pet & People photography barn. My mom did charity work for the Toad Suck Daze festival. Had two sisters, Charlene and Bethany. Both older than me. Both married Toad Suckers.’
Maggie sighed. ‘You talk in the past tense.’
‘I do, Maggie.’
‘That’s sad.’
‘Yep.’ Nathaniel pulled on his cigarette.
Maggie lent against him, her hair spilling onto his shoulder, filling his nostrils with her fragrance.
‘I’m eighteen years old,’ she said.
‘Oh,’ responded Nathaniel. Not sure what the girl was talking about.
She looked up at the marine. ‘So, I’m not a child.’
Nathaniel nodded, not trusting his voice.
Maggie stood up and held out her hand. ‘Take me to your room, marine.’
The two of them walked, hand in hand, to Nathaniel’s room.
He closed the door behind them, slotting the bolt into place.
Nathaniel sat on the edge of his bed, pulled his boots and socks off then stood up to remove the rest of his clothes. Maggie also disrobed in an unselfconscious way, folding her cotton dress neatly over the chair in the room. She wasn’t wearing a bra and her breasts were small, firm. The nipples thrown into stark relief by the silver lunar light pouring in through the window. She put her arms around the marine’s neck and, even though she was a tall girl she still had to stand on tiptoes to reach.
They kissed for a while. Softly. Hesitant. Then Nathaniel picked her up. Easily. As if she weighed nothing. And he laid her on the bed. She lifted her hips and, using her thumb, hitched her panties down over her ankles, tossing them onto the floor.
Nathaniel looked at her for a while. Marvelling in the soft smoothness of her skin. The exquisite paleness of it, frosted by the merest hint of freckles scattered across her chest like tiny flakes of gold.
He knelt over her and they kissed again, this time a little more urgently. And then she grasped him by his shoulders and pushed him down. Insistent, her breath faster now, urgent, her hips rising up to meet his mouth. Her fingers entwined in his hair, tugging, adamant. Her need a desperate necessity. A break from reality. Then she cried out as all feeling culminated in an ecstasy of fulfilment.
And Nathaniel moved up and entered her. Their lovemaking an affirmation of life in a new world of dissolution and bereavement.
Chapter 18
Seth spent the next few days researching the blue green planet. He traveled both geographically and horologically, spreading his research through time in order to get a feel of the history of the beings that dwelled there.
He studied them from both close and far. At times even meeting them. On the whole they would retain little or no memory of him as he became more and more skilled at wiping their memories. But they were a willful species and remembered far more about the little gray men from far away than he would have believed.
After spending a total of nine days in meditational stasis, he returned, ready to report to commander Ammon.
Seth sat on the edge of his bed, sipping a cocktail of distilled mead, milk and honey. Replacing the fluids and energy that he had used up whilst traveling. Commander Ammon sat on a hide-covered stool opposite the mage.
‘It is a world similar to ours,’ said Seth. ‘However, there is much more land. Whereas we have but a few islands they have vast swathes of fertile soil. Thousands of square leagues. I have chosen a particular place that is strong in magiks. An ancient place called Cornwall in a land called England’
‘And will they accept us as refugees?’
Seth shook his large gray head. ‘No. They are an unbelievably war-like people. Since time immemorial they have fought amongst themselves.’
‘Large wars?’ Enquired the commander.
‘Beyond our imagining. Weapons of mass destruction that make our most powerful magiks pale into nothingness. In my travels I saw entire cities leveled by weapons capable of unleashing storms of fire that competed against the very sun itself. Hand held weapons that can kill over many leagues distance. I saw vast prisons that were there for no other purpose than to exterminate the beings that were imprisoned there. Exterminate them in their millions.’
&nbs
p; ‘So then,’ said Ammon. ‘There is no point in going. It would be the old cliché of jumping from the cooking pot only to land in the fire.’
‘No, not at all,’ disagreed Seth. ‘Let me finish. I am telling you of their past. What they once were.’
‘Ah,’ interrupted Ammon. ‘They have progressed. They have learned the value of life?’
‘The opposite,’ said Seth. ‘Somehow, and I know not why, they have regressed. The flying machines no longer work. Their mechanical modes of transport. Their massive night-lights. None of it works anymore. It is as though the gods have abandoned them, taking with them all knowledge of the past and leaving them as cave dwellers in a broken palace. As a result they are a dying race. Hundreds of thousands of them perish every day. And those not dying of natural causes are being killed by the stronger ones. They are barbaric beyond belief.’
‘And their magiks?’ Asked the commander.
‘They no longer seem to have any,’ answered Seth.
‘It is almost too good to be true. Can you take me there?’
Seth nodded. ‘I have much power. The Life-Light there is so strong that, even in my corporeal form, I managed to fill myself with it. Let me finish my potion and I will oblige.’
The mage continued to sip his nourishing cocktail, not rushing. Ammon sat still and waited. Patiently.
‘Right,’ said Seth. ‘Come and sit next to me. We shall join hands and travel. I must be honest and warn you; this will be a little uncomfortable to you. The disassociation of soul from self can be very disturbing for the uninitiated. But I shall be with you so there is little to worry about. Just remember, do not panic. Breathe deeply and slowly and, relax. Ready?’
Ammon joined hands and nodded. ‘Ready.’
The universe stretched thin. Ammon felt as though his brain had been siphoned out of his cranium and liquidized. Pain scoured his mind like spiders scrabbling on a tiled surface. Light filled his being and exploded. Then all was dark.
‘Commander,’ said Seth. ‘Open your eyes.’
Ammon did so. He lay on his back on a field of rough grass. Above him the sky was filled with the multicolor of the Life-Light. The air was thick and frigid. Heady. His head still buzzed with pain.
‘You mendacious double-dealer,’ he accused Seth. ‘A little uncomfortable?’
The mage laughed. A dry staccato sound. Like the breaking of twigs. ‘Well, if I told the truth would you have come?’
Ammon rubbed his large forehead. ‘Probably. Not sure.’
‘Now, my friend,’ warned Seth. ‘You must remember. You are not here but you are here at the same time. Your physical body sits in stasis in my campaign tent but your inner self has traveled. However, any harm that you incur here will be carried over to your corporeal being. In other words, you die here, you die for real.’
Ammon stared around him. The land was flat and windswept. And as he turned and looked, he saw them. Stones, perhaps six to ten feet high. Standing in a circle around him. Maybe twenty of them. He felt a shiver of fear run through him.
‘Ley stones,’ he said, his voice raw with horror.
‘Yes,’ agreed Seth. His voice calm.
‘But you said that they had no magik. These stones show that they still practice the old ways. The way of the druids. You idiot, Seth. You have lead us into destruction.’ Ammon was literally shaking in terror.
‘No,’ said Seth. ‘Stop. Relax. Feel. Just feel with your mind. Let your thoughts flow.’
Ammon stood still for a while. ‘You’re correct,’ he eventually said. ‘Nothing. These stones must be very, very old. The magik has long since gone from them. They must have forgotten how to control the power.’ He turned to face Seth and bowed slightly. ‘I offer my apologies, friend. You did warn me not to panic.’
Seth’s dry laugh cracked out again. ‘No need to apologize,’ he said. ‘The first time that I landed in them I literally almost soiled myself, so you have done yourself proud to maintain your dignity to the extent that you did. However, as you know, these stones would only be placed in an area of great power. So, this will be our staging post. This is the place known as Cornwall and it is here where I shall form the gateway to bring our people through. It is isolated from the beings that dwell on this planet, there is ample water and, as you can see, large open spaces. Perfect.’
Seth looked at the commander, waiting for comment. But Ammon was staring out across the plain. Approaching from afar was a small, hairy, four-legged beast, running at full pelt. Its oddly long tongue dangled from the side of its mouth and its equally oddly long ears flapped behind its head. Ammon tensed and prepared to defend himself.
‘Oh, don’t worry about those,’ assured Seth as the beast drew closer. ‘They are called Dogs. It probably just wants to lick you.’
‘Lick me?’ Asked Ammon in horror. ‘Why?’
‘Best that I can figure out is that the male beings that live on this planet have bred these animals to be their companions. Their, best friends, as it were. And, as far as I can see, being licked donates the dog’s friendship.’
True to form the dog, a Red Setter, desperate for company now that its master and his friends had all left, ran up to Ammon and licked his face in greeting. The commander let his mind flow into the dog.
‘Love,’ he said to Seth. ‘This dog thing seems to have only two or three rudimentary thoughts; food, water and love.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Seth. ‘They have a saying here; a Dog is a man’s best friend.’
‘I see. And what about the females of the species?’
Seth looked puzzled. ‘Odd as it may sound, from the little research that I have managed, it appears that gemstones are a female’s best friend. I believe the saying goes; diamonds are a girl’s best friend.’
‘How do I stop this animal licking me?’ Asked the commander.
‘Tell him to sit,’ responded Seth. ‘They are very obedient.’
‘Sit,’ commanded Ammon.
The dog sat, tongue lolling out. Waiting for its next command.
‘Very interesting.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Seth. ‘You have to be a little careful of them. Sometimes they try to bite you. And their teeth are formidable.’
‘Why?’ Asked Ammon. ‘I thought that they were my best friend.’
‘You are,’ said Seth. ‘But they can still bite you.’
Ammon shook his head. ‘What a strange planet this is. I feel that we will be able to improve things a great deal here when we arrive. I feel that some sort of order wouldn’t go amiss. No, not at all.’
‘I agree, commander. Now, should we link hands and return?’
The two fair folk joined hands. Seth concentrated. Light shimmered and they were gone.
The dog lay down and whined for a while.
Chapter 19
Axel had been correct about one thing. The Belmarsh boys approached at first light the next morning. However, they did not attack. They simply massed about four hundred yards from the one wall and stood there.
Eventually a man came forward, riding a horse.
He rode to within three hundred yards and then stopped and stood up in his stirrups.
‘Hooeee!’ He yelled. ‘I need to talk to your leader.’
Patrick nudged Axel who stood up. ‘Talk.’
‘We will give you an hour to vacate the village. You must leave your weapons, food, drugs and any other supplies. If we see you taking anything we will attack you.’
‘No,’ retaliated Axel. ‘We leave without anything and we will all starve. Or worse.’
‘This is a non-repeatable, once only offer,’ shouted the man on horseback. ‘I advise that you take it now. You have a minute to comply and after that…you will all be dead before the sun goes down.’
Axel shook his head to himself. All that the thugs wanted was an easy way to get the villagers disarmed and out into the open. And there was no way that was going to happen. He wondered if he should play for time and then realized – what was the poi
nt? He made his decision.
‘Dom.’
‘Yup.’
‘You reckon that you can take the guy on horseback?’
‘With my eyes closed,’ assured Dom.
‘Do it then.’
Dom brought the rifle up to his eye, slipped the safety off, drew a breath. Let it out slowly. And fired.
The criminal flipped off the back of his horse like he had been swept up by a giant hand. Dom worked the bolt and drew a bead on a man sitting in a chair on top of a car. But as he fired the man jumped. The high velocity bullet clipped his heel as he went over, spraying blood in a puff of crimson mist. His howl of agony was clear from where they stood. Dom kept at it, firing three more times and knocking down two more criminals.
‘Steady!’ Shouted Axel, waving his hand at the villagers so that they kept down. ‘Stay as you are.’
Dom reloaded his rifle with five more rounds. Beside him there were another three rifles amongst the villagers. Axel had ensured that they were the best shots. He would use them first, keeping the shotguns and sidearms until the enemy were really close. Perhaps twenty yards.
The Belmarsh boys were milling around at the moment. Confused at the way things had gone. Then there was a bellow from their commander and, almost as one, the two hundred plus criminals charged the village, screaming and firing as they came.
The first shallow, caltrop-strewn ditch was a classic example of low-tech antipersonnel installments. The leading row of criminals leapt into the ditch and the steel caltrops punched through the soles of their shoes and boots. But more thugs were piling into the ditch behind them forcing them forward so that they fell onto more caltrops which punched into their exposed chests and faces. The second wave tripped over the fallen first wave and, as they crawled forward they too became victims of the deadly sharpened steel traps. There was a general cry of dismay as the third wave clambered over the trench merely to be met with a field so liberally strewn with spiked metal caltrops that it was impossible not to step on one.