by Bob Goddard
“Yes?”
“I wonder if it will be possible now to find out how things are in Malawi… to speak to my parents, or at least find out if they are okay?”
“Hmm. This is what everybody needs to know. When we make contact again I will find out what communications are possible and whether there is news of our families.”
Tamala looked disappointed, then brightened. “Thank you, Nadia. I’ll go to the Lunchbox now and get a party organised. The music group will be delighted to have another chance to entertain everyone.”
She turned and bounced out of the office door with the soft bulge of baby Ngaio sleeping peacefully against her back.
* * * * *
Moon, 2087
Lian was sitting at her desk gazing at her screen but her eyes were not focussed. Her mind was far away in California. There she could see a beautiful green-eyed woman whose heart-melting smile filled her with dread.
The morning had started so well. She and Will had completed their regular early run, a Moon-jog to the lower end of the farm and back. It was quite a distance since the Biosphere had doubled in size. Her legs were stronger than they’d ever been, with only the occasional tingling in her feet to remind her of her long-cured paralysis.
They were chatting over breakfast when Nadia’s vidcast had lit up their comms. After her brief message of contact from Earth had ended, Will was silent and Lian knew that, for him, this news changed everything.
All around them their fellow colonists were talking excitedly, filled with new hope and expectation, but Lian remained quiet as Will stared into his cereal bowl. Then he got up and said: “Something I gotta do, Lian. Catch you later.” As he walked out of the Lunchbox she wondered if he was walking out of her life.
During the early days of her recovery Will had encouraged Lian to walk a little further each day. Holding on to his arm, she had shuffled and tottered, stumbled and ambled. Slowly she had regained the use of her legs, going from strength to strength. Even when she was no longer in danger of falling, she still held his arm. If Will knew, he didn’t appear to mind.
Then one evening, as he massaged her feet in that delicious way and set all her nerve endings jangling, he’d said they should try to run the next day. Lian, who had always been more academic than athletic, hadn’t run since school, but she was willing to try anything Will suggested.
“Oh! Okay. But… maybe I will fall?”
“No you won’t. I’ll be holding your hand,” he’d said, igniting a spark that had kept her aglow ever since. These past three months the sight of Will and Lian running hand in hand had brought smiles and cheers from everyone they met. It made her swell with pride.
In the weeks following her ‘accident’, Will had poured his heart out about Ginny. How they’d met, how she had taught him to climb trees and he had taught her to ride motorcycles. Lian understood that talking about her helped keep Ginny alive for Will. It also helped Lian get to know him, so she didn’t mind. But over time Ginny cropped up less and less in his conversations and Lian dared to hope he was slowly making room in his heart for her.
Lian had known for the last six months that she was in love with Will. It was the most amazing, overwhelming feeling. One that she had never dared to admit to him or to anyone. These past months had been the happiest of Lian’s life. She couldn’t bear the thought that it might all end with the next phone call from Earth. Now that she had finally discovered what love felt like, the thought of losing it set cold fingers of fear clutching at her heart.
After all this time, a phone call had come from Earth. Will had gone to find his true love and Lian was back in the Soupbowl Crater, gasping for air. This time, there would be no-one to rescue her.
* * * * *
Moon, 2087
Nadia was on her way to the Lunchbox for the ‘Earth Calling Moon’ Party when her comm chimed. She was close enough to hear the music and could see her lover Yasmine, in her doctor’s white coverall, handing out narc patches at the door. Nadia turned around instantly and headed back to her office. She recognised the tone. It was the call she’d been waiting for all day.
“Hello Papa. I’m pleased you have called now because there should be satellites in position for at least thirty minutes. I have got a schedule to give you and questions to ask.”
There was an even longer delay than normal before he replied. The ancient cable network must be to blame, she thought.
“Ah, Nadusha. Seven times I tried to call you since this morning. Each time we have to re-awaken the transmitter because it shuts down to conserve power when not in use. The station is not manned, of course. Just as well – it is minus 63 Celsius there at the moment.”
“Okay, Papa. There are only seven satellites still working over the poles so I need to give you the schedule for the best times to call each day. Here are the UTC times for the next 72 hours.” She gave him the times then waited for his reply.
“Very good, Printsessa. I will try not to call while you are sleeping.” Even though she couldn’t see his face, she could tell he was smiling. “You have questions, so ask me…”
“Everyone here is anxious to know how their families and loved ones are faring. Is it possible for them to speak to each other? And I would like to know what state of readiness the Chinese are at for resuming supply and repatriation shuttles when the dust clears.” Another long wait, listening to whistles and crackles.
“Okay, Nadia. I will take last question first. It is short answer. The Jiuquan launch facility in Gobi Desert was completely destroyed by earthquakes and fires in February. There is no attempt to rebuild anything.
“The Chinese have lost 40 percent of population. Over seven hundred million dead. Thousands more dying every day from starvation and cold. Chinese government is struggling to keep survivors alive. They have no plan to restart their space programme. I’m sorry, Printsessa. You will not be coming home any time soon.” His voice was thick with emotion.
Although Nadia had steeled herself for bad news, the appalling loss of life was so shocking she was unable to answer.
“For the present, Nadusha, you are better off up there on the Moon than down here with us. Your mother and I are okay here at Sochi army base, but is very crowded. The military are in control now. People outside the compound are desperate and dying. Until the dust clears and plants can be grown in fields again, it will only get worse. I’m sorry to tell you this. Earth is not a good place to live at the moment.”
“My God, Papa. It is much worse than I feared. Is there any way to find out if the colonists’ families are still alive?”
After a long, crackling wait, she heard him sigh. “Since the old telephone cables were brought back into use four months ago I have been trying to make contact with the families or learn if they are surviving. It is very difficult, Nadusha. Some countries have no communications. Many people have changed location. It is like detective job.
“I have information for some of your people, but for many I can find nothing. It is not possible with this system for talking between Moon and families. I cannot connect military transmitter to telephone network. So, what can I tell you?”
“Please tell me everything. As much detail as possible. Everybody is desperate for information. Can you start with the Heads of Departments, please?” There was another long wait while Nadia prepared herself for more bad news.
“Okay. I have my notes here. First, your Head of Biosphere, Lian Song. Both her parents were buried, presumed dead, when the Chengdu underground shelter system collapsed, February 14th. The earthquakes in Sichuan province were very bad. Chinese authorities have been unable to excavate most of them. There were two cousins who moved to Beijing before the comet and were surviving in June. But they move again since then and I cannot trace them.
“Next is Head of Personnel, Tamala Ngomi. Her parents, a sister, a cousin and his family were all surviving in their house in Lilongwe. I spoke to the sister, Elina, in August the last time. They had food and cooking fuel to l
ast a year. They were miserable with the cold and dust, but they are near enough to Equator to be clear of snow and ice for now. I think they will survive.
“Your Head of Engineering, William Cooper. His parents are alive and well in a shelter in California. I spoke to the father, Norman Cooper, three times. Last time earlier this month. The girlfriend, Virginia Antoine, she did not survive the earthquakes. Norman Cooper found her body in the forest. Said his son would take it badly.
“Your doctor, Yasmine Rozek. Her parents were alive in July. They were in Cairo. Now they have returned to home in Luxor. I have no contact with them there. There is a brother working in Saudi Arabia. I don’t have information for him.”
Her father continued to list people and places, life and death, until his voice faded away as the satellite passed out of range. He would call again in the morning to complete his report.
There would be relief and joy, despair and anguish for the colonists. Nadia would let them enjoy their party and break the news to them tomorrow. All except Will and Lian, Tamala and Yasmine. They, she decided, should be told tonight.
* * * * *
Earth, 1504
There was uproar. Sam, Peter and the flock of sheep and goats had arrived home on the outskirts of Loming to find the street full of people shouting and waving their fists.
Peter’s two younger sisters were in the arms of neighbours who explained that Sam’s wife Lucy, together with her brothers Jack and Ifan, had been taken by Gorbel and the Convertors. Only minutes earlier, Sam was told, this ‘gang of thugs’ had burst into his home and dragged Lucy and her brothers into the street. They then marched them away towards the town centre, leaving Sam’s daughters, eight year old Agnes and little Emily who was four, screaming in terror.
Sam, who had been silently fuming since the previous afternoon when Peter arrived on the hilltop with news of Yonaton and Benyamin’s incarceration, took a deep breath. Inside he was shaking with rage and struggling to maintain control as he asked his neighbours to look after Peter too. There was no time to drive the animals into their pen, so he whistled his dogs to move the flock onward, towards the town centre and the church.
All along the way he was greeted by townsfolk who were out on the street after hearing that the Convertors were taking Yonaton’s sons and daughter because the captain and Benyamin had escaped from the tower. They had been sprung, so the rumour went, by the crazy young Mammed who had climbed the wall of the tower in the night to free them.
Most of the people he met fell in step with Sam, many carrying sickles and hoes and other implements aloft. The flock, spurred on by the shouts of the people lining the streets and led by the heroic figure of Titan the ram, careered on towards the centre of town.
As Sam entered the town square on the heels of his scurrying animals, two things caught his eye. The first was a platform to the right of the church, with two gibbets and two nooses dangling ominously. The other was a crowd of hundreds surrounding the stone steps leading up to the church doors. At the top of the steps stood a group of eight Convertors, bristling with pikes and swords and holding Lucy, Jack and Ifan. Near the bottom of the steps stood the ugly, snarling figure of Gorbel, swinging his pike menacingly as he swore at the crowd to stay back.
Titan, at the head of the flock, locked eyes on Gorbel, lowered his horns and charged. With a yelp the red-faced ruffian pitched backwards and his pike clattered on the stone steps. As Sam pushed forward, trying to find a way through his bewildered flock, Gorbel struggled to his feet and drew his sword. Titan lined up to butt him for a second time.
“NO!” shouted Sam, as the Cardinal’s chief bully grabbed the charging ram by the horns and plunged his sword into the animal’s neck. Then Gorbel was screaming and falling backwards, clutching at his chest where a long stick seemed to be lodged.
Shocked, Sam looked down at his right hand to find his staff had gone. He had no recollection of fixing the spike, no memory of hurling the staff. But there it was, quivering from the prone and gasping body of Gorbel. He was sprawled next to the motionless form of Titan, a crimson tide spilling down the steps to the street.
For all his size and ‘man-of-the-mountain’ ruggedness, Sam was a peaceful man who had never raised his hand against another. He was stunned by the realisation that he might have killed a man and heartbroken by the death of his beloved ram. Then someone yelled, “Death to the Cardinal and his men,” the crowd cheered and surged forward.
“STOP!”
The crowd paused on the lower steps and looked up to see Lucy had stepped free. The men who had been holding her arms had released her to grab their weapons.
“Stop now,” she shouted and the crowd fell silent, uncertain what to do next.
“These men,” Lucy gestured towards the Convertors cowering behind her, “they don’t want to die for the Cardinal and a cause they don’t believe in.” She turned to look at the scared young man beside her and he shook his head.
“So they are going to release us…” she looked over her shoulder as Jack and Ifan stepped forward to flank their sister, “… and lay down their weapons.”
Sam was aghast. Where did she get her confidence from? The young man beside her looked at the crowd then back at Lucy. She nodded to him and gingerly he laid down his sword. There was a clatter as another weapon fell to the steps, then all the pikes and swords were falling or being laid down.
Lucy took another step forward and addressed the crowd again. “There has been enough bloodshed.” Her voice rang out clearly around the hushed square. “We’ve all been held prisoner by the Cardinal and his stupid religion for far too long. It stops right here and now.”
“That’s right, Lucy,” came a shout.
“These men can help us, can serve our community instead of that wicked old man. He was going to kill my father – an honest sea-trader – and Benyamin who never hurt anyone. They would be hanging over there…” she pointed to the gibbet, “if we hadn’t helped them escape last night.”
“Now he has stolen my father’s ship to chase after them. He is a crazy man, not a holy man.” She turned her head to listen as Jack whispered in her ear.
“My brothers are going after our father, Ben and Mammed, to bring them safely back home.”
“I’ll take my boat too,” came a shout from the crowd.
“And me,” came another. And then, “count me in.” It appeared that all the fishermen would set out on a rescue mission. And would deal with the Cardinal if they found him.
“Let’s burn the church down!” hollered an angry male voice. The crowd was on the brink of becoming a rioting mob.
“No,” shouted Lucy firmly. “That would be a waste. We can turn it into a school for our children and make sure we teach them wisely and well. Let’s build a new society based on truth and compassion, instead of fear and suspicion.”
“And let’s have Lucy for Mayor!” shouted a woman in the crowd. Everyone laughed, and some cheered. The aggression evaporated as the mood rapidly became more like a carnival, with Lucy at the head of the procession as she and the fishermen swept down to the quayside.
* * * * *
Moon, 2087
Will lay on his bed trying to figure things out. For seven and a half months he’d clung to the belief that Ginny was still alive. She had to be, otherwise nothing made sense and life wasn’t worth living. But now, after all this time, after all his wishing and hoping and praying, he’d been told she was dead. It couldn’t be true. Could it?
Nadia said her father had spoken to his dad on three occasions over the past few months. Could he have made a mistake? Muddled him up with some other person? But he’d spoken to a Norman Cooper who was sheltering in a California bunker. It had to be his dad.
Maybe it was his dad that Sergei Sokolov had spoken to, but his dad had been mistaken? Yes, that could be it. A body in the forest? Could have been anybody. Maybe he never went to the forest? Maybe Mom put him up to this?
That was it! It had to be. Ginny was s
till alive and she would stay that way until he spoke to his father in person. Will would soon know if he was lying.
His troubled train of thought was interrupted by a timid tap-tap-tap on his door. Whoever it was, he don’t want to speak to them. They should be at the party, anyway, jumping around like idiots to Lenny And The Lunies or whatever they called themselves.
Tap-tap-tap. “Will? Can I talk to you, please?” It was Lian’s voice coming through the thin plass door.
“Wait a minute,” he called out as he sat up and pulled on his jog pants while his head spun dizzily. He stood and opened the door.
“Lian. Look, I don’t feel up to partying tonight, sorry.”
“No. No party. Just want to talk, please?”
“Got a lot on my mind, Lian. Not feeling very talkative tonight.”
“I know. You don’t have to say anything.”
He stood and stared at her but didn’t move to let her in.
“When I was lost and dying, Will, a very kind man sat by my bed and helped me find a reason to live again. Please let me sit with you for a little while?”
He hesitated, then stepped back and opened the door.
“It’s a mess, sorry,” he said, kicking his sneakers and coverall under his bed.
“Lie down, please.”
“What?”
“Lie down on your bed, Will. I’m going to massage your feet.”
16. One Year After Impact
Moon, 2088: Tuesday, 10th February
For Doctor Yasmine Rozek this was a rare treat. She looked at Nadia’s face illuminated inside her surface suit helmet and marvelled at her high-cheek-boned beauty. The Governor was concentrating on attaching the ski lift’s safety straps to the front of Yasmine’s suit. Then she looked up and smiled and her lips started moving.
A split-second later her voice purred in the doctor’s right ear. “There you are, Yasmine. We’re both safely clipped on to the basket now. Are you ready to go?”
“Yes, I am looking forward to it. This reminds me of a fairground ride in Cairo when I was a little girl.”