New World Rising: A story of hope born out of tragedy

by Sloane, Lynette

  Olan took a deep breath and quietly whispered, “Bally promise … please … take my sister home.”

  “I promise.”

  Olan breathed out one last time and the tide ebbed away.

  Chapter 3. Seven days later

  What a week it had been—a week I would never forget, and a week that not only changed my outlook on life, forever, but was to change my life’s direction too.

  Through Olan I had experienced the laughter of childhood, the eagerness of youth, the understanding of middle years, and wisdom of old age all within one week.

  The Research Centre held a small remembrance service in the grounds. Howard, Chrissy, Doctor Danzig and a few technicians attended, watching silently as I scattered Olan’s ashes in the rose garden and said a prayer.

  It was a little milder than it had been of late, and as Howard spoke a few words in Olan’s memory great big snowflakes, larger than I had ever seen before, started falling slowly, soon covering the ground and turning everything white: the lawn, path, hedges, the bushes under the window, and us. It was beautiful. It felt like Olan’s seal of approval.

  Later that afternoon, as I sat alone in the apartment reflecting on the events of the last fortnight, I started questioning certain things. For instance, why would Howard, with all his education and knowledge, make the mistake of bringing such a being back to Earth? Was it a mistake? Why would a brilliantly intelligent individual live for such a short time? Surely no creature should have such a diminutive lifespan. A Mayfly might, I conceded, but not one such as Olan. It just didn’t add up, and if he had been an experiment why place him under my care? Shouldn’t he have been reared under close scientific scrutiny?

  I’d only known Olan for seven days, but I was grieving inside and missing him terribly. I gazed around my living room through tearful eyes. For the first time the apartment seemed quite empty. I didn’t want to be here, but I didn’t want to be anywhere else either. Blast Howard for bringing his alien artefacts back here! I didn’t want to see another one … ever. No Glesseni pottery, no Taludian Fire Plants, and definitely no Aapas.

  I was angry. Howard knew I couldn’t have children and had played with my emotions in a despicably cruel way. I had always wanted to have a child, but had known from an early age that it would be impossible, so I had pushed the desire to the back of my mind. This was one of the reasons I had never got married. In my early twenties I had been engaged once to a wonderful chap (we met in an art gallery), but I knew he had wanted children, and so in fairness to him I broke off our engagement. He was devastated at first, but later married and had two young daughters so I knew I had done the right thing. Howard knew all this too and must have counted on it to fulfil his plans, whatever they were.

  I thought I had successfully suppressed my maternal feelings by throwing all my energies into my painting, but rearing Olan had brought all those longings back. I felt my anger rising again: if Howard hadn’t brought that alien back here I wouldn’t be feeling this way, yet another part of me was I was glad that he had. Olan had brought me such joy and happiness, although it was all over so soon. Another tear ran down my cheek and I reached for a tissue.

  My com-phone rang. I blew my nose on the tissue and walked over to the workstation pressing the ‘accept transmission’ key. Dr. Dantzig’s trusting face appeared on the monitor.

  “Belinda.” His voice was quiet and purposeful, “I have secured a place for you on the Omicron Flyer, but you’ll need to meet me at the Research Centre this evening, no later than seven.”

  “Why would I want to do that?” I sniffled, already knowing the answer.

  “I think Olan wanted you to do something for him.” Dr. Dantzig was being gentle and patient, but I could sense the urgency in his tone.

  “All right, I’ll be there,” I agreed. I knew what I had to do. I dried my eyes, and packed a small suitcase with a few belongings, including the porta-disk Olan had prepared for me, and went to the hallway cupboard door.

  Immediately, I knew something was wrong. The towel that had previously covered the egg was lying on the floor and the door wasn’t quite closed. I grabbed the door handle and pulled it open, not wanting to believe what I was dreading. The egg was missing …

  I remembered passing a couple of rough looking individuals on the staircase on my way up to the apartment: a tall, thin man in dark clothes carrying a sports bag, and a woman of average height and build with shoulder length, greasy hair. She wore ripped jeans and lots of black eyeliner. Something about her seemed familiar, but I couldn’t place it. I’d wished the two people a good evening, but neither had responded. They had looked straight ahead and had ignored me.

  Beryl (a middle-aged lady from the floor below mine) had been standing outside her flat and had commented on how rude they were. Could they have had anything to do with the egg’s disappearance? I decided it was very likely; it was extremely unusual to see strangers in the apartment block.

  I grabbed my jacket and shoulder bag, and ran out onto the landing and down to the floor below. I knocked on Beryl’s door in a panic.

  “Whatever’s wrong?” The grey haired, portly lady asked.

  “Someone’s been in my flat. Maybe those people who pushed past us on the stairs. Did you notice which way they went?”

  “I remember hearing an old fashioned vehicle start up, so I looked out and saw an old, white van driving away. You know, the sort with wheels like the Drifters have. But they couldn’t have been Drifters. Drifters wouldn’t risk being found in the city, and anyway, why would they break into your apartment?”

  I thanked Beryl for her help saying that it probably wasn’t the people we saw and left. I didn’t want the nosey woman alerting the authorities. They would ask all kinds of awkward questions. What had The Brat got me into?

  As soon as I was out of earshot I tapped my communication pendant and said, “Howard.” My brother immediately responded.

  “What’s up Bal? You ready for our trip?”

  I ignored his second question and cried, “Someone broke in while I was at the memorial and the egg’s gone.” I sensed Howard’s shock.

  “What?”

  “A neighbour saw them leave in a wheeled van.”

  “Drifters. Blasted Drifters! Has to be. A van was spotted near the Research Centre yesterday. A security detail gave chase but it disappeared somewhere in the Afan Forest on route 52. There’s rumoured to be a Drifter commune up there.”

  Suddenly, a thought hit me, “You remember my friend Sophia Haulton. That girl who disappeared in the second grade.”

  “The one whose parents were shot for drifting?”

  “Yea. I think I passed her on the stairs after the funeral today. She must have gone back to the Drifters.”

  “Transfer across; we have to find that egg.”

  I homed into Howard’s signal with my communication pendant, and within moments was standing next to him outside the Research Centre.

  “Oh, thought you were at home.” I said, looking around in surprise. “What do we do now?”

  “Like I said; we have to find that egg,” he answered.

  “Shouldn’t we call the authorities? These people might be dangerous.”

  “Have you forgotten something? The authorities don’t know I stole the egg.”

  “Well even if we find Sophia, and the Drifters, why would they give it back to us?” I asked.

  Howard broke into a smile for a moment. “That sounds like an old pop group: Sophia and the Drifters.”

  Howard raised his hand as if to say, ‘hang on a minite’, took a few steps away from me, turned his back, and spoke quitely into his transponder. I couldn’t hear what he said.

  “Now what?” I asked when he turned back towards me.

  “Hold tight, we’re going to transfer into Afan Forest.” I looked blank. “It’s in South Wales, near Neath,” he added.

  “Oh.”

  I felt the familiar crawling ant sensation over my back and head, and shut my eyes as w
e transferred from the Research Centre grounds to the forest.

  Immediately, I became aware of the smell of pine and fresh, clean air. I opened my eyes. Howard and I were standing on a grassy slope surrounded by mature fir trees, most of them towering eighty feet, or more, above our heads. The early December chill had made the ground firm and twigs, fir cones, and the old pine needles littering the ground were edged by the hard frost. A cold wind blew. I was grateful I’d worn my thick, winter coat. Howard was looking around and already scanning the area for signs of life with his hand held monitor.

  He spoke quietly, “There’s a small group of people about half a mile to the south.”

  “Do they have the egg?”

  “We wont know ’til we get closer.”

  “What’s your plan?” I asked. “I don’t suppose they’ll just hand it over. And what if they haven’t kept it warm? Won’t that kill it?”

  I felt I’d let Olan down, that I’d allowed someone to steal his sister’s egg.

  “Aapa eggs are very resilient, she should be okay,” Howard answered, examining his readings again and taking a few steps to the south. “I studied Sophia’s psychological profile; she might give you the egg.”

  I gave my brother an enquiring look; I had only just mentioned her to him. He clarified, “There’s been some Drifter activity in the city recently. Sophia was already a suspect; you just confirmed it.”

  I followed Howard through the trees and down a steep hill, all the while glancing around to make sure no Drifters were tracking us. Twenty minutes later we neared a river and started following it down stream.

  Howard stopped walking and whispered, “They’re up ahead, five hundred metres, and they have the egg,”

  “How’d you know?”

  “I’ve picked up weak alien life signs.”

  Howard touched his transponder badge and spoke quietly, giving the Drifters’ exact location to the person on the other end of the communication link, then spoke to me, “Come on, this way.”

  We continued walking downhill until we spotted a small group of people sitting on the riverback facing away from us. There were at least five of them, four men, and Sophia.

  Howard shouted, “Go,” and several men appeared as if out of nowhere, all dressed in Kaki and holding hand weapons. They surrounded the Drifters. The leader of the Death Squad shouted, “Freeze!” The Drifters all complied, except Sophia who grabbed a gun and started firing. I dropped down to the floor keeping my head low. I heard another shot, followed by shouting and more shots. In a few seconds it was all over.

  I pushed up on my hands a little and peeped through the trees. All the Drifters lay on the riverbank, dead, except for Sophia. She had thrown down her hand weapon and was holding her hands in the air in surrender. The Death Squad were all unhurt. Howard signalled me to go to her, so I made my way through the undergrowth to the riverbank.

  I leaned over my old friend. She had been shot in her leg but would survive.

  “Sophia,” I said. “Why are you a part of his?”

  “A part,” she exclaimed in disgust. “I’m not a part. I’m in charge.”

  She winced. The wound was obviously very painful.

  “Why did you take the egg?”

  “The Drifters have to pay.”

  “But you’re a Drifter.”

  “No. I’m not. My parents were Drifters. They sent me to school and let themselves get caught. I was taken into care and placed on the DNA database. I grew up without parents, and no one is actively doing anything about the Drifter problem. There are thousands of them you know. The authorities will have to do something now.”

  Howard walked over to us. He picked up a rucksack that had been hidden under a holly bush and checked the egg was all right.

  “Thank you for minding this for us.”

  “Ah, of course. Good afternoon Howard.”

  “You know each other?” I asked my brother in disbelief.

  “Yes. Sophia’s married to the Senior Director of the Research Centre.”

  Howard and I transferred back to my apartment with the egg, where he explained that Sophia had grown up hating her parents for getting caught and leaving her an orphan. She had recently married the Director and had used her new position to find out about the alien eggs. Stealing the smaller egg was just a plot to wrongly implicate the Drifters so the Drifter ‘problem’ would be dealt with.

  I objected, “But the Drifters are innocent, at least in this respect.”

  “Yes, but we can’t have the Senior Director’s wife being accused of common theft and burglary. I’m afraid Sophia will get her way. Hundreds of Drifters will be hunted and brought to ‘justice’—and I use the term loosely. They will be given the choice: join the database or die.”

  “Why did you take me with you this morning?” I asked. “I didn’t do anything; your Death Squad dealt with the situation.”

  “If the egg had been hidden somewhere, you might have been able to persuade Sophia to give it to you.” Howard grinned, “And you needed the fresh air.”

  My brother passed me the rucksack saying, “Try not to loose this again.”

  “I didn’t loose it the first time,” I said, irritated at his inference, before noting his cheeky expression and realising he was teasing me, or just trying to be annoying. What the heck … It wasn’t worth responding.

  The Brat left the apartment. I placed the egg back in the cupboard for safekeeping and spent a while checking I had everything I needed for the journey to Olan’s homeworld.

  It was nearly seven o’clock when I transferred to the Research Centre. Dr. Dantzig, Howard, Chrissy, and another chap (who introduced himself as David Holmes), were waiting anxiously for me. Holmes was the research scientist who had been in charge of analysing all the data Olan had uploaded into the supercomputer. The scientist was tall, with short fair hair, and was quite well built although not overweight. He was a trendy dresser too. An unusual combination I thought: a good-looking science geek with a flair for fashion.

  “You must be Howard’s sister,” he said to me, smiling. “Sorry for your loss.”

  I nodded in acknowlegment and said, “Thanks.”

  “Can I have your attention Belinda?” Howard asked. “We’re all going to transfer directly onto the Omicron Flyer.” Then looking straight at me he added, “You have brought the egg?”

  Chapter 4. On Board the Omicron Flyer:

  Everything in the room dimmed and disappeared from sight, and almost immediately a different scene came into view. At first quite dark, it gradually became lighter until I could plainly see the inside the transfer bay in front of me. This was the usual experience when one transferred over long distances.

  From my perspective, the Omicron Flyer was a large vessel and, as such, had been assembled in dry dock space, but with a maximum crew of eight hundred it was by modern standards quite small. However, whatever it lacked in size it made up for in technology and innovation.

  Capable of travelling in excess of nine times the speed of light, it used the latest folding space technology. This was a method of taking short cuts in space.

  Howard had explained it to me thus:

  Folding space is like folding a piece of fabric. If you want to draw a line from point ‘a’ to point ‘g’, two metres away, but you haven’t got the time to go through points, ‘b’ to ‘f’, you could make a fold in the cloth so that point ‘a’ is only three centimetres away from point ‘g’, and then you draw the shorter line from point ‘a’ to point ‘g’. See, it’s now 3cms away and not two metres. In drawing that line your pen jumps across the folded part: a short cut. It’s the same in space. We want to get to from point ‘a’, that is Earth, to point ‘g’, Theta Dayton Four, so we ‘fold’ the fabric of space and make a short cut—well a series of short cuts anyway, because Theta Dayton Four is too far away to fold to in one go.

  David took the precious egg away from me for safekeeping, and directed me to one of the regular crewmembers who showed me t
o my quarters. Noticing my apprehension, she smiled and asked me if I was nervous.

  “Yes, I’ve never been off-world before,” I explained.

  “I was like that on my first expedition. Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it,” she said, trying to make me feel at ease. “My name’s Keni. Would you like me to show you how the food simulator works?”

  “I have one at home, but thanks anyway.” I smiled and Keni left saying that she might see me later in the recreation room.

  I had a quick look around my new quarters. The walls and most of the furniture were cream in colour, but the bed linen was more imaginative and stood out from the rest of the room: dark blue with planets and stars printed all over it. Thanks Howard I thought, but I’m not in the mood for your childish jokes.

  I paused to look in a mirror attached to a wall above a set of draws. My eyes were still red and puffy from so much crying. I couldn’t believe how bad I looked.

  On my left was an archway, through which was a sonic shower and toilet. To my right a sliding door led to the living area where a comfortable sofa was positioned in front of a large, wall-mounted viewing screen. I walked through to have a closer look. A small computer tablet had been placed on an occasional table a few metres in front of me. I noted that the furniture was all screwed down to the floor, I suppose, as a precaution. After all, we were being projected through space at thousands of miles per hour.

  The breakfast bar and food simulator were built into an alcove at the far end of the room giving me a choice of staying in my quarters if I didn’t feel up to mixing with other people. I was glad; I didn’t want to talk to anyone right now. This was to be my new home for the next eight days. I was impressed; the unit was much larger than I imagined it would be.