Solstice 31: The Solstice 31 Saga, Books 1,2,3

by Martin Wilsey

  “Thanks for reminding me, Em.”

  Po followed him up the ladder as she watched Par back up into a spot designed specifically for her. When she got to the top, she was not prepared for all the blood.

  “I'm sorry, Barcus. But it was frozen before it was able to dry.” It was a voice Po had not heard before. “All the cleaning bots had been removed and their spaces re-purposed during modifications.”

  Barcus was saying nothing. He was staring at the blood that looked all too fresh, even though it had shifted to brown. It did not help that the room was completely white. It was rounded and detail-free, like Par was sometimes.

  Smoothly, the canopy seemed to disappear. It now looked like they were standing outside again, the stars and moon bright above. The floor became like a flat black pad set on the rocks outside.

  Po could not stifle her gasp.

  A man walked into their view from the shadows, but did not step onto the pad. They were all lit by some invisible light.

  “Hello, my name is Po. You must be Stu,” Po said, trying to remain calm, trying to break the moment.

  “Hello, Po. It is nice to meet you in person at last,” Stu said.

  Barcus looked up at him now. He cocked his head to the side.

  “Stu, you've changed,” Barcus said.

  “Yes, sir. It was a secondary mission priority. A full AI upgrade.”

  He was a handsome young man in his mid-thirties. He wore his hair and beard in traditional Tracker style and was dressed in that fashion as well.

  Po looked down the ladder hatch to the cargo bay below. It looked like a hole into the ground to a cave. It wasn't cold. No wind touched her skin. She looked around again, trying to reconcile what she was seeing.

  Interrupting, she demanded, pointing at Stu, “Barcus, is he a Keeper? You said you'd tell me everything. How is this NOT MAGIC?!”

  Barcus was about to reply when Stu spoke first. “Po, have you ever seen a really good painting?” Stu knew she had. He had full scans of the hall she was raised in.

  The question caught her up short. “Yes. I have.”

  “Could you paint one?” Stu asked simply.

  Suddenly, the vista around them morphed to a mural, like the walls were painted and Stu was now a character in that painting. Rolling hills and trees with a high hall in the distance and grazing horses were all around. It was highly detailed, but still a painting.

  Po's hand flew to her mouth.

  Stu walked as close to her as her could, constrained by the canvas. “I am like a painting, Po. I have been created by brilliant minds and talented hands. But I am still a creation.”

  “This is the mural in Keeper Volk's private study. You are the tracker from that painting,” Po said in awe.

  Stu's definition faded from painting to real. Then the simulated countryside around them began to shift to the look of a tapestry, and then finally reality. “Did you know that the one that created me was a woman, a dear friend of Barcus?”

  She noticed Stu glance at the blood. She turned to Barcus and clearly saw pain in his face.

  “Imagine if you had to spend five years in here, in this tiny room,” Stu said as the walls went white again.

  “All this,” he said as he spread his arms wide and it looked like they were back inside Foxden, “is a tool to keep men like Barcus sane and happy while they are forced to spend long days and years inside here.” The scene faded to the simple white of the inside of the ship.

  “I am a complex tool. Artfully rendered, complex, aware and even intelligent, but just a tool.”

  Po looked from Stu to Barcus.

  “Do you feel like you are explaining fire to a three-year-old?” Po asked.

  “No,” Barcus said solemnly. “Well, maybe a five-year-old.”

  In a flash, without warning, she punched him hard in the ribs.

  Barcus was surprised, uninjured, but he still affected a stagger back before saying, “See, you can learn.”

  She pounded his chest then, over the fully healed wound. Without turning or looking away from Barcus, she asked Stu, “Stu, do you have a mop or something that I can use to clean this up while Barcus is below, supervising the transfer of the materials we came for?”

  “Yes, I have just the thing,” Stu replied.

  Barcus had a look of sadness and gratitude as Po led him to the hatch and he descended the ladder. The storage compartment revealed itself directly to the rear of the now completely white compartment. Stu was still there, as if he was standing just behind and to the left of the compartment. Po placed her hand on the wall in front of Stu. It seemed like there was a clear glass between her and the projection.

  The compartment slid open. It was packed with containers of various kinds and types, but no mop, rags or bucket.

  “There is a container that looks like this in that compartment,” Stu said as he held it up close to her.

  Slowly, she read out loud, “Bio Decontamination.”

  She found the aerosol canister and easily detached it from its holding.

  “You seem to be taking this all in stride. Why is that?” Stu sounded genuinely curious.

  She was staring at the can, avoiding Stu's stare, but after a small pause she spoke. “When the Telis Raptor got inside the Abbey,” she paused, her throat caught, “I knew I was dead. Everyone knows that if you see one, it's the last thing you will ever see.

  I lived. I knew every heartbeat after that was a gift and meant something. Right away, I knew that was true. I had to save Barcus. He almost died. To save him, I performed more magic than any Keeper I have ever seen. All of it, forbidden.

  “It was that day I decided to take it all 'in stride', as you say. I like that term. I had already earned that anvil a hundred times. After that, it's like I just opened to every possibility, without question.”

  She was staring at the can, reading the instructions. She flipped the top open and turned to the nearest bloodstain before she continued.

  “When he said he'd tell me everything, I knew he was going easy to not overwhelm me. It was a kindness, really.”

  She sprayed the nearest stain, got closer and sprayed again. The bloodstain began to dry and consume itself, leaving only a light dusting of what looked like fine gray ash.

  “He tried to explain that the magic was not really magic at all. But to me, what you call it never mattered. It is understood or it isn't.”

  “Like the DeCon Spray?” Stu asked.

  “Yes. I don't question or fear it any longer. It's a mystery to me how it works, but I can still use it.”

  She almost had all the blood removed. She sprayed the seat.

  “Want to know what my favorite magic is?”

  She looked up and Stu was smiling. He nodded.

  “Binoculars. I even like saying the word.”

  She looked into her memory.

  “If that isn't magic, I don't know what is.”

  She walked to the back of the compartment and turned to look at her handy work.

  “Do you have a broom?”

  “I can handle the rest. I can just over pressurize the cabin, then it will all evacuate when I crack the hatch.”

  Po secured the canister in its compartment. The door then slid closed, and the scene around her changed once again to the bright moonlit beach by the lake.

  “Thank you for doing that. It would have been difficult for Barcus. He loved Chen very much. She died in his arms. It's one of the reasons he is still so angry.”

  She looked to the hatch.

  “Angry? You call that angry?“ she raised an eyebrow at Stu.

  “Spilled red wine on a favorite rug would make a Keeper ‘angry.' The fury in him is like the sun to a candle. Rumor says he has killed over a thousand hard mercenaries. I see him sometimes. His eyes are elsewhere and the look of hatred on his face... His jaw muscles nearly burst when they die. That face. There has never been such a face.” She fell silent for a long minute.

  “Can we chat on your Plate so
metime? It's lonely at the bottom of the lake.”

  “I'd like that,” Po replied.

  “I think he's nearly done down there. It is a fourth day,” Stu said.

  “Good. Stu? It was nice meeting you.”

  “Care for him. He needs you. More than he knows,” Stu said.

  She was taken aback by the emotion in Stu's words as well as the content. She descended the ladder just as Barcus was securing the last of a dozen cases of various sizes inside The EM.

  “Are you all right?” Barcus asked, straightening up.

  “Yes. It's a lot to take in, but I am getting used to that around you.”

  A cold breeze moved her hair across her face. She was not used to it being out of the braid.

  “Why does Stu have to stay at the bottom of the lake?” she asked.

  “To hide.” His reply earned him a puzzled look from her. He continued, “From the Keepers. They might see him from the sky.”

  “I have seen them fly over. But not often,” she said, looking up at the sky.

  “All it would take is once,” Barcus said.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  Still Falling

  “The Shuttle Transport Unit logs showed no indications of corruption or deletion. We speculate that the Em’s activities were kept away from Stu. In fact, there is evidence this backup was stored on the STU’s core.”

  --Solstice 31 Incident Investigation Testimony Transcript: Emergency Module Digital Forensics Report. Independent Tech Analysis Team.

  <<<>>>

  They closed up Foxden and left before first light, and they were back at The Abbey in the early morning.

  The entire ride home, Barcus tried to explain as many of Par’s capabilities as he could. He did not touch on the BUGs or the extent of his surveillance capabilities. He did cover the use of tactical maps, geo-location, communications and even demonstrated the weapons systems.

  A huge elk with a massive rack didn't notice Em's approach. The 7.62mm round took it directly in the brain. Par lifted the beast easily, even though it must have weighed a thousand pounds.

  Whitehall would have plenty of meat tonight.

  “Call Olias and let him know,” Barcus said.

  ***

  They arrived via the north road to waving hands from the tower. The portcullis was on the rise even before they reached the stone bridge. Par did not enter The Abbey, but turned and opened the cargo ramp.

  A half dozen men, led by Smith and Olias, were there by the time the ramp had descended.

  “Hinges and tool handles as requested, and a few other things that might be useful.” Barcus pointed to a medium sized trunk, set to one side. “Please take this one to the gatehouse.”

  “How was your day?” Smith inquired.

  “It was lovely,” Po replied as she looked at Barcus, before she went off to explain about the Elk.

  Smith raised his eyebrow. “Did a bit of hunting on the day off?”

  “Actually, we were lucky to get him on the way back. Par is an excellent hunter,” Barcus said.

  “Can we get Par to help Ash, bring the blocks back we need? It took him all night to bring the first three. Here, let me show you.” Smith went up the tower stairs and didn't stop until he reached the top level, just beneath the roof.

  Smith walked to the arch and looked down towards the eastern quad of The Abbey. They had dug down until they reached the white foamcrete of the Redoubt. Three stone blocks were already placed. Ash was supporting the level above, using a beam as a prop. Men scrambled to secure the new corner post, using ropes and tackle. The two levels above that had temporary posts were secured in many locations.

  “We will repeat this process two more times, and then we will be able to repair the roof. Once the floors are in and the roof is above, that end is done. Then we can enclose it and begin to restore the interior rooms. We will need to decide what to do with this courtyard after all the rubble is removed.”

  “What's going on there?” Barcus pointed to a location with the ruined walls of the cathedral.

  “They are clearing and sorting the blocks and beams that can be reused. No need to quarry it when we would have to clear it out anyway.”

  Barcus looked to the west and saw that the formal garden there had been completely cleared except for three huge, twisted, ornamental trees. The garden also had three obelisks set in an isosceles triangle and boulders set in an artful dry riverbed. A dozen people, men and women, were raking the dark soil and removing every rock as they chatted. Children were running back and forth as if collecting the stones into a wheel barrow was the greatest game ever invented.

  “It's their fourth day,” Smith said quietly. He was obviously enjoying the laughter.

  He turned and looked at Barcus and then scanned the room to make sure they were alone.

  “My Lord, I feel I must...”

  Barcus cut him off. “Smith, please.”

  “Barcus, you bade me to always speak my mind. I shall, like it or no. These people are...in danger. I feel it, more now really, than when we were under Volk's heel.”

  “I know,” Barcus replied, looking at the children chasing each other. Without his asking, the risk assessment window popped open in his HUD.

  “The horses that populate the stables now, not all of them are from the villages that burned. I'm a smith. I have cared for many a High Tracker’s horse, and more than one Keeper’s horse.”

  “Yes. I know.”

  “Perhaps you don't know the sort of man the Lord High Keeper really is.”

  Smith looked out over The Abbey and even past the wall, to people in the distance who were clearing dead fall from the orchards.

  “These people are children. Some of them will come to understand the truth. But most will go on thinking they have traded one anvil for another.”

  “They know what happened at Langforest Keep after we escaped. A few of the men were determined to stay behind and help you. Even now, I find it hard to believe.”

  Barcus hadn't known. “I am sorry they had to see that.”

  “They said you simply pointed at them as they laughed, and then their heads exploded. None that stood against you escaped. Further, in that chaos of moments, they said that you, Ash and Par hunted them all down, one at a time. You filled a barn with their bodies and even the dead horses, and you burned it as if it was soaked in oil.”

  He looked back out over The Abbey.

  “Of course, I'm sure that half of it was either exaggeration or outright lies.”

  “It's true. I killed them all. I burned everything, but I salvaged some things - all of their weapons and one more Plate. That, above all, is what will get the High Keeper’s attention, I fear. There were only four High Trackers with these men and no Keeper. The rest were just common thugs, mercenaries.”

  “There it is. Right there,” Smith said, pointing at his chest.

  “What?”

  “Everyone believed the Keepers were all frauds. Volk certainly was. Cruel and powerful, but still a fraud. But you...” His voice faded.

  “The things you can do. Ash and Par, they will do your bidding. It is said you killed a Telis Raptor alone. An adult male Telis Raptor! I have seen it, seen its tail blade. Hundreds of the High Keeper’s men, maybe more, maybe a thousand. It's the only thing Olias won't talk about.

  “Then there is Kat. You were alone with Kat for maybe ten minutes.” Smith stared at him hard. “She should have died from that lashing. I don't think she will even have scars.

  “And what have you done to Po?” Smith was clearly angry now.

  “What do you mean?” Barcus asked.

  “I never thought I would find a person in this whole world that hated the Keepers more than that girl.” He pointed across The Abbey at the gatehouse. “And now I bloody think she has become one. The way she talks about you. No magic in the world is that powerful.”

  “Not in this world,” Barcus said quietly.

  “Po told me this last thing. But only after
I swore never to repeat it.” He swallowed heavily. “She said you were a...,” he paused to swallow again, “a man from Earth.” It was almost a confession.

  Barcus didn't speak. He looked at the playing children below.

  He nodded in admission.

  “Barcus, you must never tell them this.” Smith pointed to the people below.

  “Let them believe they finally have a real Keeper to protect them. Don't confuse them with stories that will terrify them. They will believe you to be another Mad Monk.”

  “What do you know of the Mad Monk?” Barcus asked.

  Smith shook his head, unable or unwilling to answer.

  “None of them know what this place really is. Keep it that way,” Smith said.

  “What is it?” Barcus asked him.

  “You really don't know?” Smith was incredulous.

  “What are you saying?”

  “This place is said to be built on the bones of the men of Earth. It's so haunted that the High Keeper cannot even see it from the sky. Had I known this was the place you would bring us, I may have refused. They must never know.” Smith was adamant.

  From below, a call in unison of a dozen men’s voices went up: “Ready, steady, go!” And with a mighty coordinated lift of dozens of men using poles, props and block and tackles, the corner of the hanging floor was raised and the new beam, bound in iron, was shoved into place. Boys on ladders began to quickly hammer the nails that would secure it. A cheer went up when it was done. A great flurry of activity began then, of men passing up planking and tools, and the floor was closed up.

  “In a few hours, the next level will be ready to secure. What do you say we lend a hand?” Barcus asked.

  Smith stared at him a bit longer and then shook his head. “All right then. Let's get this done before supper. I hear it will be a special one.” Smith moved to the stairs.

  Barcus knew he was avoiding saying any more.

  ***

  The next floor was levelled up in much the same way. Barcus was on a pole just like the rest of the men, and it went up without a snag. The new flooring went in so fast, it amazed Barcus. Looking up at the ruined roof, he wasn't sure they could do it at all. The beams looked more than a half meter across, and even though a good amount of the slate was missing from the roof, he had no idea how they would raise something so heavy. He had no idea why it had not completely fallen in decades ago.