By Dawn's Early Light

by Jason Fuesting

  “Not in the slightest, but what choice do we have?” Turing said.

  “Perkins can put one in the guy’s head and we can go on like we were, for one,” Hadrian snarled.

  “Woah, hey, someone mind catching me up here?” Eric asked the assembled militia leadership.

  Byron sighed and shook his head before saying, “Our esteemed Colonel Gliar made contact ten minutes ago.”

  “What? I thought we were still shooting them on sight?” Eric asked.

  “We are. Perkins couldn’t pull the trigger,” Hadrian spat. “Single guy showed up in the pass waving a white flag. Perk had one of the sweeper teams go up to check it out.”

  “You’re shitting me?”

  “No,” Byron said. “The guy claims to be one of Gliar’s majors here as a diplomatic gesture. Julien told them he had to get leadership together before making any commitments and not to expect an answer in less than a half hour.”

  Eric nodded. “Great, so they know we have radio that works and doesn’t get us smoked by the drones. That could be good or bad.”

  “Or both,” Byron muttered.

  “Or both,” Eric said. “Surveillance?”

  “None of the monitors show any identifiable human movement beyond the one intruder,” Byron stated.

  “So what does this Major say they want?” Eric asked.

  “Nothing, really,” Turing said.

  “Nothing? Well, we can afford that, right?” Eric said, grinning.

  “Not nothing,” Hadrian said. “According to this guy, Colonel Gliar apologizes for encroaching on our territory and would like to negotiate some form of non-aggression pact so he stops losing people to our snipers.”

  “You’re serious?” Eric snorted and looked at the others, “He’s serious?”

  “Like a shot to the gut,” Hadrian replied.

  “Well, shit,” Eric stalled and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Hadrian, you’re obviously against. Turing, you’re for. Byron?”

  “Leaning against. Not enough information, but the legion has never been known to be honorable in any setting. I can’t imagine that would change now,” the old commando said. “At best, we might save some ammunition in the short term, but we’d risk waking up with our throats slit.” Byron shrugged at Turing’s scowl over that comment and added, “It’s what I’d do.”

  Eric turned to Turing, “Well, unless you overrule us, then it’s settled. No negotiating. If they want to stop losing men, then they avoid the valley and any pass entering it.”

  Turing sighed and looked up from his desk, “Fine. Major, relay the terms to Perkins.”

  “Roger that, Colonel,” Hadrian said sourly and left the room.

  Seriously? We finally start getting our shit together and now all this drama? Kids today.

  Day 411

  Eric glanced over to Leah and squeezed her hand. The two shared a short private smile as Turing stood and tapped his glass with his fork.

  “Normally we spend the winter solstice celebrating our accomplishments for the year, but this year we have something special,” Turing said from the head of the table. “Of course, not to minimize what we have accomplished. We’ve seen the best year here that I’m aware of. We’ve had the best harvest I’ve ever seen thanks to Mister Pascal. Thanks to the efforts of Ms. Carter and her people, we’ve rebuilt the mill, started on a greenhouse, and so much more. Seeing as I’m not fond of long speeches, please allow me to introduce our newest couple, Mister and Misses Friedrich.”

  Leah blushed as the room filled with applause and cheers.

  “Thanks,” Eric told the well-wishers.

  “Back home, there’d be forms to fill out, licenses and all that, but it seems we’re a bit short on bureaucracy here on Solitude, so as the presiding government official, I can only wish you well and hope that you enjoy the evening’s festivities,” Turing told the pair.

  As the man returned to his seat, the improvised band began to play. They weren’t much, but on the shortest, coldest day of the year, not much was required. As time ticked on, Eric wasn’t sure if they were actually playing better or if it was just the drink getting to him.

  “You know, I never would have guessed that Byron knew anything about distillation or brewing,” Leah told him sometime later that night. She nearly had to shout to be heard over the crowd.

  “Yeah. The beer and ale isn’t bad, but some of this stuff still tastes like jet fuel,” Eric leaned in and replied. “I think he said it was something he learned from his son.”

  Leah’s eyes widened and she glanced over at the door where Byron and Julien were talking.

  “Wait, the old goat has family?”

  Eric grinned and nodded.

  “Didn’t think he had it in him. Or her, in this case, whoever she is.”

  “Was,” Eric added.

  “Oh, that’s sad.”

  Eric nodded. “He hasn’t said much beyond what I just told you. Doesn’t talk about life back home at all, really.”

  “I can understand that,” Leah said.

  A sudden look of consternation made him ask, “What is it, hon?”

  “I was just thinking, Eric. I realized that I’ve been happier the last three months than I think I ever was back on Celion. Is that bad?”

  Head cocked to the side, Eric asked, “Why would that be bad?”

  “Well, I had everything going for me. I’d just made junior partner in the law firm I was working at. I finally stopped worrying about being able to pay the bills. I guess, looking back, everything was just dropping into place. I was set. Here though? It’s so totally different. I was sure we were all going to starve or freeze to death by now for the longest time. And now, I don’t think I’d trade places with the old me, even if it meant I could avoid how I got here, too. I’d have to give you up to do that.”

  Eric blushed and said, “Aww, well, I love you, too.”

  They sat back and watched the crowd together. More than once he caught his wife absentmindedly smiling and rubbing the ring on her finger he’d made her with Jeff’s help.

  The fourth time, he asked her, “You like the ring?”

  She blushed, realizing what she’d been doing.

  “Of course I do, silly. I told you when you gave it to me. I still can’t believe you made us both rings.”

  “Well, you can thank Jeff for them looking like rings instead of globs of metal shit.”

  Leah shook her head at him, grinning.

  Eric kissed his wife and told her, “I’m going to find Turing and thank him for all this. When I get back, maybe we can head back to our room?”

  Leah grinned back at him. “You do that. I think saw him over at a table there in the far corner.”

  Eric made his way over and found Turing lounging in the corner with a tumbler in his hand looking rather pleased with himself.

  “Turing,” Eric said with a nod.

  “Eric,” Turing said, replying with a nod of his own. “Enjoying yourself?”

  “It’s been a great evening. Anne’s cooked up another masterpiece. Happy to see she’s got a new assistant, too. You?”

  “Just happy to see everyone enjoying themselves. I don’t think this house has seen a night like tonight in a very long time. I know I haven’t.”

  “I heard the last group had a programmer in it,” Eric said.

  “Oh? Wesley? He’s okay, I guess. He’d be better if his ego would get out of the way.”

  “Sounds like one of our new volunteers. He’s a good kid, I guess. Hadrian’s had me riding his ass the last two weeks trying to get him to wake up and see what’s going on.”

  Turing’s smile weakened momentarily. “Good luck with that. This last batch of drop-offs is proving decidedly less useful than expected. Something has changed upstairs and I’m not sure what. We might have to go back to being selective on who we let in again if this doesn’t change.”

  Eric nodded. “That’s possible. Anyway, I wanted to let you know my bride and I are retiring for the
night.”

  Turing wobbled to his feet. He shook Eric’s hand with a conspiratorial smile and said, “Enjoy the rest of your evening, Eric.”

  Day 607

  Eric flopped the latest exam on Turing’s desk and said, “Turing, if you’re going to keep running me through math, could you give my brain a little time to congeal first? It’s a bit melty right now.”

  Turing snorted.

  “I figured we’d spend a bit, a week at least, recapping what you’ve covered so far to make sure you’re actually retaining all this. The economics won’t phase you at this point, but I do have some engineering textbooks and adequate teachers we can use to mix things up a bit.”

  Eric sighed and Turing regarded him with mock disappointment.

  “Eric, you do realize we’re only teaching you at the rate you’re soaking up the information, correct? Honestly, I’m surprised you’ve made it this far at the pace you’ve set yourself. My professors would be scandalized.”

  “Huh?”

  “You, a pirate, capable of outpacing most of those I knew at the University? And across this many subjects? Most people tend to only absorb a narrow field. I’d bet even the old sciences dean would be forced to grudgingly admit your accomplishments so far are impressive. You’re easily in the ninetieth to ninety-fifth percentile, perhaps higher.”

  “I’m pretty sure that’s good, right?”

  Turing grinned and shook his head. “Oh, of course. It is quite good. Percentiles and quartiles are covered in stats, but we haven’t gone over that in detail yet. The ninetieth percentile places you in the top ten percent. Though, to be honest, once you get so far up the measure ceases to have much meaning beyond extremely bright.”

  “So, pacing, huh? The University teaches at a self-paced speed as well?”

  “Depends on the class level. The lowest tier classes not so much. So many students, not enough professors. Students are also encouraged to take a wide variety of classes. This is partially on the belief in a well-rounded education and partially to help people find what they’re truly interested in.”

  “That seems like a waste of time. I mean, it’s inefficient, isn’t it? If you’re expected to pay for your time there, why waste money on classes you’ll never use?”

  “True, which is why the University is set up the way it is. The introductory level classes are very low cost. Of course, the University is entrusted to develop the brightest minds in the Protectorate so it’s very easy for the exceptionally bright to obtain tuition waivers, partial or otherwise.”

  “So how long is the average stay?”

  “That depends. Students are allowed to stay so long as they are progressing at a satisfactory rate for the level they’re at. When whichever party decides the student has had enough, they tally the amount of credits and assign the applicable degrees. That’s how I managed to get mine in the ten years I attended.”

  “Ten years? How’s that work? You’re thirty-five, right? Five years here, five on the run. If that started when you graduated, you were twenty-five.”

  Turing smiled. “The University does not care about a student’s age, only their academic accomplishments and potential. My family being who they were probably didn’t hurt, either.”

  “Yeah, I’d imagine that whole Inner Party thing didn’t hurt at all.”

  Turing smirked. “Neither does founding the school and providing over half the annual operating budget. Oh, while it is on my mind, we haven’t heard a peep from the Legion in a while. Hadrian is toying with the idea of sending a scouting party over to their side of the mountain if this keeps up.”

  “Joy. Maybe if we’re lucky, they hunted out their food supply and either starved off or moved farther away.”

  “We’re never that lucky.”

  Day 815

  “This just keeps getting better,” Eric said to himself as he peeled back the lid off the tin. Not a fan of pickled fish. Muffin would be going nuts for this shit though. He shivered from the cold, wishing he could make a fire. Not yet, they could still find me. He popped the sardines into his mouth one after another, hoping if he ate them fast enough he wouldn’t taste them. God I hate these. Better than starving. Though not by much.

  He washed the sour taste from his mouth with the remainder of the flavored water he’d made with the drink mix packets he’d found in the Cerberus supply crate in the pine needles next to his feet.

  Eric eyed the crate again, looking for any sign of its age. There weren’t any dates on it, but the few he’d recovered before were weathered about the same.

  “Are you new?” he absent-mindedly asked the crate. “Or have you been sitting here for a year since the last drop we’ve found?”

  The pines around him whispered louder as the wind picked up. Eric leaned over, peering between the branches of the tree he was under. Dark clouds choked the horizon to the west.

  “Well, that’s not good,” he mumbled to himself. “Okay, supplies, say goodbye to your crate. I need to get back on the right side of the mountain before those clouds catch up. I’m not getting caught up here in that. Not a fan of mountain thunderstorms or blizzards.”

  Two hours later, Eric found himself ducking into a cave just short of the saddle he’d used to cross over two weeks earlier. Only so far you can push yourself in these altitudes without extra oxygen. Wish I’d had space for one of those old masks.

  “Fuck my life,” he muttered as the clouds unleashed a torrent of blinding snow. Periodically the blinding swarm would flash brilliantly followed several short seconds later by muted thunder. It’s a thunderstorm and it’s also snow. Thundersnow? He stood watching, hoping for some sign he could be on his way soon. Nah, I’m going to be stuck here a while. Something skittered across the rocks behind him.

  Eric spun, rifle up and squeezed the trigger pad on his foregrip. Bathed in brilliant light, the cave’s front chamber clearly empty. A crevice leading further into the cave twisted out of view.

  “Oh, don’t be shy now,” he told the cave as he cautiously advanced. “I already know you’re there. Come on out.”

  Hearing nothing, Eric crept forward. You know, I think this is high enough that nothing really totally thaws out. Eric froze as a barely perceptible musk wafted by. Aww shit, I know what that is. As he tugged aside the retaining strap of one of his spare magazines a reflection head caught his eye. Just inside the second chamber some twenty meters further down the bend Eric found a mass of matted fur and bones. Several seconds passed before he recognized the mostly skeletal remains of a wolverine. An ice axe hung from a hole in the side of its skull. Long scratches in the bone near the hole made it clear that more than one blow had been required to seat the blade.

  “You don’t see that every day,” Eric said to himself after several moments of consideration.

  Another set of bones and tattered material, this one human, lay a handful of meters away from the wolverine. Scavengers. Eric spat and glanced bout to find the missing leg half hidden in the wolverine remains. That’s a shitty way to go. Well, you got him, too, buddy.

  Eric found another set of human remains, this one intact, on the far side of the chamber. This person had died bent over a rock but had no immediately obvious cause of death. The discoloration of what remained of the skin threw him for a second. He realized her cold weather pants had been around her ankles when she died. The shit is this?

  He looked at the body from several angles, but the details refused to fit together. He began to turn when he noticed the tattered clothing, had lettering on it. PMV Relentless? Wait. Eric looked closer at the discoloration of the hood and pulled it back. The remains of long dark hair spilled out and Eric found the killing blow. Someone had driven an ice axe into the back of her head.

  “Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Eric blurted. “What kind of sick fuck does--no, this is not what it looks like. I’ve been stuck on this goddamn planet forever, but I will not believe that.”

  Eric glanced between the human corpses. One ice
axe, a rope, and, there on the rock, a compass. The ghost of an old memory stirred. No. Not only no, but hell no. Eric left the macabre scene behind, refusing to contemplate it any further. This fucking planet has gone too far.

  He walked to the mouth of the cave and sat, studiously removing every memory of what lie behind him. He turned his eyes to the snow outside with purpose. Entranced by the whirling chaos outside, Eric lost the passage of time until a faint buzzing reached his ears through the white haze. Curiosity piqued, he straightened up and then lurched to his feet. The whine proceeded to get progressively louder.

  “That’s a--no, it’s, shit. It’s a drone,” Eric muttered to himself and started scooting farther back into the cave. Those things have optics that can see in this shit. The snow outside strobed. A second later, muffled thunder reached him. A muted pop followed moments later. Several more pops split the air a heartbeat after the first and the droning roar shot into a throaty whine.

  Eric stood and curiously peeked out into the whiteout. Whatever that is, it’s heading this—The snowstorm lit up with a deafening roar and the ground shook.

  Holy shit. Eric rubbed his eyes furiously while debris fell from the cave ceiling. He blinked away the afterimage and spotted a rapidly fading glow in the distance.

  “I don’t think anyone’s seen a drone that close. Or what’s left of one,” Eric muttered, watching the flickering glow of the crash site. He paused in his steps. “No, it can wait. As hot as that is, finding it once the snow’s let up will be easy. Don’t want to get lost in this shit, that’s death.”

  Back under the lip of the cave, Eric sighed.

  “No, if I were in charge up there, I’d send someone the moment I found out my drone crashed. This place is going to be flooded with troops soon. That or they’ll hit it with something big to keep anyone from recovering it. Well shit.”

  Eric grabbed his pack and his rifle and stepped out into the snow.

  The things I put up with here.