Terra

by Mitch Benn

  And so it continued. The audience sat in rapt attention as Pktk re-enacted the fateful day on which Tnk first succeeded in activating grav-matter; Pshkf’s mock-up containment field and pretend crystal projector flashing and crackling with light (the real thing, as he’d shown them in the practical science lab a few cycles previously, was nothing like so spectacular).

  They gasped as Spshnf (played by Yshn using what sounded suspiciously like an impression of Compositor Vstj’s voice) confronted Tnk across the council chamber floor (as depicted using Pshkf’s holographic backdrop), challenging his theories and – horrors! – accusing him of plagiarism (which wasn’t entirely historically accurate, but Terra needed to get some proper conflict into the story somewhere).

  They sighed as Tnk told his wife Sftl (played by Shnst, or possibly Thnst) of his anxiety about his own discovery – was Fnrrnkind ready for such knowledge?

  And finally they thrilled to the finale; with the generals hammering on one door of his study, demanding to be given exclusive access to Tnk’s thesis, while the politicians hammered on the opposite door demanding the same (Terra realised that this wasn’t how it actually happened, not least because it seemed unlikely that Tnk’s study would have doors on both sides, but it was symbolic – another of her new favourite words), Tnk, giving his final speech (- I didn’t do this for you! I didn’t do this for me! I did this for everybody!), pressed the key that published his thesis on the Source for all to read – at which point, the text and equations of Tnk’s Thesis appeared in huge characters, scrolling away on the holographic backdrop behind Pktk in a stunning coup de théatre (not that anyone on Fnrr would have known to call it that – they’d have to come up with their own names for this sort of thing in due course).

  The audience leapt to their feet, hissing and (this had become quite the thing to do after someone noticed that it’s what Ymns do after a play) slapping their hands together.

  The cast beckoned to Terra and she joined them on the stage. Lbbp cheered lustily and the applause (that was what it was called, applause) cranked up a notch.

  Fthfth put her arm round Terra’s shoulders from one side and Pktk from the other.

  - Is this where we bend over? asked Pktk.

  - It’s called BOWING, Pktk, and yes it is, said Fthfth. So they did.

  2.30

  Terra and Lbbp sat on the padded bench seat, sipping gssh and sighing with happiness.

  - It was good, wasn’t it? The play?

  Lbbp put his arm around Terra’s shoulders and gave them a squeeze.

  - It was brilliant.

  A pause in which nothing was said because there was nothing that needed saying, then:

  - Are you going to write another one?

  - Not yet, but yes, I’m sure I will one day.

  - You could actually be in the next one, suggested Lbbp.

  - As what? asked Terra. I don’t exactly look like anyone else, and I’m not shaving my head and painting myself grey just for a Lyceum play . . .

  Lbbp laughed, and said, - Oh, you could play someone. Or something. I’ve been reading up on more Rrth legends. There are these creatures called angels who turn up in a lot of Rrth myths who look quite a lot like you. In particular, they feature in the plays they put on in their own Lycea, during this annual festival they have called . . .

  - Please, no history lessons now, mumbled Terra. It’s too late and it’s been a very busy day.

  Lbbp smiled. - Of course. Time for sleep. Off you go.

  Terra got up and shuffled off to her room. She turned in the doorway.

  - Always here, she smiled.

  - Always here, returned Lbbp.

  Lbbp relaxed back on the seat with his bowl of gssh. This was bliss, he thought. Terra was happier than she’d ever been. She had real friends, and she was proving herself every day in unexpected and wonderful ways. Though he would feel a stab of guilt whenever he remembered the night he’d found her (guilt which he was still keeping entirely to himself), he had no regrets at all. He was as content as he could ever remember being. He wished it could last for ever.

  It lasted about another cycle.

  2.31

  The day had started much the same as any other day. Wake, breakfast, bubble, Lyceum. The first class of the day had been Linguistics; study of the phonetic structures of Mlmln. Not one of Terra’s favourites; while she spoke Mlmln like a native and without accent, the language was not, nor could it ever be, natural to her speech mechanism. There were certain sounds which she could make perfectly well in passing speech, but if she tried to make the sounds in isolation she would struggle to reproduce them perfectly. It made her feel self-conscious and conspicuously alien, in a way she didn’t often feel these days.

  After the interlude, it was time for History of Science. More Terra’s home territory, although there were still gaps in her knowledge.

  - Quiet please, said Bsht and all hubbub died down.

  - Activate slates and access chapter four section six; refinements on Tnk’s theory from orbit seventy-two of the twenty-seventh era to orbit twelve of the thirtieth era.

  Terra stroked her finger across her slate and the appropriate chapter appeared. Was she supposed to have read all this? It didn’t look familiar at all.

  - We begin a new phase in the history of GravTech development today, began Bsht. Terra breathed a tiny sigh of relief. - We’re going to be looking at the achievements and contributions of the scientists who developed and refined Tnk’s initial theories. The first of these was Tnk’s student, assistant and, eventually, greatest friend Kltnt. Although by orbit seventy in the twenty-seventh era Tnk had officially retired, he still maintained a keen interest in . . .

  A low throbbing noise resounded through the classroom. It seemed to be reverberating through the whole building. It made the floor vibrate and tickle Terra’s feet, and made her stomach queasy. She wondered if it were having the same effect on her classmates’ rather differently arranged insides; looking around, she saw that their faces wore the same perturbed expression as her own.

  Bsht had fallen silent the second the sound began. Her face, pale grey at all times, turned paler.

  The sound grew louder and more insistent. The children gazed at each other in confusion. Pktk’s lip quivered. None of them knew what this sound meant but all of them instantly understood that whatever was happening, it was nothing good.

  Above the noise now was heard the Preceptor’s voice. There was a tension in the voice that Terra had never heard before.

  - All staff and students will assemble in the Leisure Hub immediately. All staff and students to the Leisure Hub immediately please.

  Bsht, as if suddenly shaken from a daydream, snapped into alertness.

  - You heard the Preceptor, she said calmly. To the Leisure Hub, now. No running and no gravity bubbles in the corridors . . .

  Terra picked up her slate and followed her classmates into the corridor. All about her staff of all ranks and students of all ages were hurrying towards the Hub, their faces tight with worry.

  - What’s happening? she whispered to Pktk.

  - Something serious enough for them to cancel gshkth practice, said Pktk, pointing at a group of older students hurrying along with everyone else, still dressed in gshkth smocks and carrying their gfrgs. They NEVER cancel gshkth practice.

  Terra’s little group of friends rounded the last corridor and entered the Hub. Some sort of meeting was already in progress but no one was speaking; the Hub’s visualiser had been activated and was showing what looked like a news broadcast, but not the local Hrrng broadcast or even the national Mlml broadcast. A Fnrrm newscaster was speaking a language that Terra didn’t understand; the visualiser was translating, Mlmln words heard over the newscaster’s own voice. The picture phased and flickered, the newscaster shouted in panic, dark blue blood streaked across his grey face.

  - . . . off the streets. All citizens are . . . until further notice . . .

  There was an explosion behind the n
ewscaster. He flinched but carried on, his voice rising to a scream.

  - They’re here! They’re inside! Hide, wherever you can! Take what you can carry and—

  The visualiser went blank. A chill silence descended upon the Hub.

  Preceptor Shm, seated on the stage in front of the visualiser, collapsed back into his chair and rubbed his eyes with his long fingers.

  After a moment he stood and addressed the assembled crowd.

  - It is a dark day for all of us. A dark day for all Fnrrns.

  - It’s Dskt, whispered Fthfth. Dskt has fallen. The G’grk have invaded Dskt.

  - What does that mean? whispered Terra.

  Fthfth looked back at Terra, her eyes full of fear and sadness. But it was Pktk who answered.

  - It means we’re next.

  PART THREE

  The Invaders

  3.1

  Everyone was doing everything they could.

  The news of Dskt’s fall had hit the people of Mlml with a shock that was almost physical. For longer than anyone now alive could remember, Mlml – indeed the whole of Fnrr – had existed in a state of serene calm. The G’grk had been fighting among themselves, tribe versus tribe, region versus region; nobody paid this much attention – it was no one else’s problem and it kept the G’grk busy. The G’grk’s expansionist past – when they had galloped across the Central Plains on their armoured gnth-sh’gsts, massacring neighbouring peoples and adding their territories to their ever-growing homeland – had receded into history so thoroughly that the G’grk themselves, as far as the Mlmlns were concerned, had become little more than mythical creatures, monsters from a fearful and forgotten age.

  If the G’grk were mentioned at all these days, it was usually in a joke. Tidy yourself up, you look like a G’grk! Look at the state of this wiring! Did a G’grk put it in for you?

  No one was cracking G’grk jokes any more. Some even wondered if the jokes had made their way to the Central Plains, if the G’grk had heard themselves mocked and ridiculed. Perhaps that was what had set them back on the warpath. Whatever had provoked them, their attack had stunned the whole planet with its suddenness and ferocity. Dskt, advanced, enlightened Dskt, whose armies had been far greater and better armed those of Mlml . . . Dskt, whose technological superiority had, everyone had believed, guaranteed its security . . . Dskt had been overrun in little more than a day. The G’grk possessed better weapons than anyone had suspected and had attacked in greater numbers than anyone could have anticipated.

  In the cycle that had passed since the invasion, little news had been heard from Dskt. Some refugees had made it across the sea to Mlml; many more had perished in the attempt – some shot down by G’grk light-cannons as they fled, others trusting to their gravity bubbles, only to drown when their power cells failed them. Those who arrived safely told tales of mass disappearances, of whole civilian populations vanishing overnight, rumours of slave labour, and much, much worse.

  So now, in Mlml, everyone was doing everything they could.

  Young fit Mlmlns were volunteering for the armed forces – too many, in fact. So diminished was Mlml’s military after so long without war, that there were barely enough officers to train the recruits, and no equipment for them to train with. For all that the sergeants drilled, and the munitions factories churned, few had any illusions that the Mlml defence forces would be ready in time.

  In time for what? No one even knew if the G’grk were coming at all. There had been no formal declaration of hostilities, no contact at all with the G’grk since the fall of Dskt (or, for that matter, for many orbits previously). The hope that the G’grk would be satisfied, that Dskt was all they’d wanted, that crossing the sea to take Mlml would be more trouble than it was worth, was clung to throughout the land. That was all it was, just hope. Unlike the superstitious G’grk with their ‘Occluded Ones’, the Mlmlns didn’t even have any gods to pray to. So they kept on hoping, and meanwhile, everyone was doing everything they could.

  The stores began to run low on protein as people stocked up, hoping their manipulators would still work in the event of an attack. Few people even knew how to prepare fresh produce these days. Cooking was considered a fringe activity; a craft, a hobby, rather than anything to do with sustenance.

  Escape routes were planned by city dwellers; those who inhabited the urban sprawls of Hrrng, and Shsst, and even the smaller towns like Jfd-Jfd and Fzkl, drew up plans to flee to . . . where? And for how long?

  Everyone was doing everything they could to take their minds off the fact that there was nothing anyone could do.

  Except hope, and wait.

  Life, as it does under such circumstances, went on as normally as possible. Routine serves a dual purpose in times of tension and impending crisis; it gets the things that need doing done and it gives people other things to think about.

  Terra, sitting in the Lyceum yard at morning interlude, was thinking about Lbbp and how much she’d rather be with him right now. This is stupid, she thought, I know that we have to keep going to class and Lbbp needs to keep going to work, but at any minute we could be at war and I might never see him again. She wanted to spend every possible moment at his side. She entertained fantasies about the pair of them fleeing to Rfk and hiding out in the forest. Perhaps the war would pass them by completely and they could live together for ever among the flowers and trees.

  Her reverie was shattered by the pinging sound which summoned her and her friends back to the lectorium. She sighed and got to her feet.

  - Come on! said Fthfth. It’s practical science! You like practical science! She bounded back into the building.

  Terra slouched towards the door. The pinging stopped, to be replaced by what sounded like a high-pitched whine. What does that sound mean? thought Terra. Is it an alarm of some kind? It’s not starting, is it? She looked to the skies, half expecting to see G’grk warriors descending like great flying beasts of prey.

  It’d be louder than that, wouldn’t it, she reasoned. The alarm saying the nation was being invaded. It wouldn’t be a little whining noise you could hardly hear at all. She chided herself for being so silly, while commending herself for being so alert.

  The noise continued. It wasn’t a whine, it was more of a whimper. Someone was crying. Terra felt a pang of concern and decided to investigate.

  Terra followed the sound. She found Yshn, tucked into the corner of the yard. He was sat down and curled up into himself, hugging his knees. His eyes were shut tight and he rocked back and forth, keening and sobbing.

  - Yshn . . . Are you . . .?

  - They live in Dskt. My aunt and uncle. They live in Dskt. No one’s heard anything from them since the G’grk arrived.

  - Yshn, they might be—

  Yshn opened his eyes and turned angrily towards her. - You know what they do to you? The G’grk? They enslave you. They convert all the factories to make weapons for themselves and then they make the people work for them in the factories. That’s the best I can hope for! That my aunt and uncle are slaves rather than dead!

  He got up and ran across the yard, back into the building. Terra followed him into the corridor.

  - Listen, Yshn, there could still be . . .

  Yshn spun round, furious. - What do you care anyway? You’re not one of us. You’re more like them than you are like us. When the G’grk come you’ll probably be on their side, so you can enslave all of us and then go off and eat burnt animals together! You’ve even got a G’grk name, T’r!

  Terra was struck speechless for a moment, then stammered, - It’s not T’r, it’s Terra, it’s just a bit difficult to . . .

  - It’s T’r! And you’re a stupid animal, just like them!

  - That is ENOUGH!

  A new voice, a grown-up voice, a voice full of anger and disgust. Terra turned to see who it was who had intervened on her behalf. To her astonishment, she saw Compositor Vstj, his face set with fury.

  - Yshn, we’re all very sorry about your aunt and uncle, and we�
��re all concerned about the future, but what you have just said is almost unforgivable. You will apologise to Terra immediately and you will mean it. Do I make myself clear?

  Yshn was silent and open-mouthed. His anger abated and the horror and injustice of what he’d said to Terra struck him. He said, - I’m . . . I’m really . . . and then ran away down the corridor.

  Terra made to follow him. - Let him go, said Vstj. He needs some time to calm down and think things over.

  Terra gazed down the corridor after Yshn, stunned both by the conversation she’d just had and indeed by the one she was now having. Was this really Vstj, being so kind and supportive? What had come over him?

  - I’m so sorry for what just happened, said Vstj. No one has the right to speak to you that way.

  - He’s having a bad time, said Terra. It wasn’t his fault.

  - We’re all having a bad time, said Vstj, it’s no excuse. You’re a very understanding person, Terra. It’s quite remarkable, considering everything you’ve had to tolerate. And I’m afraid that one of the things you’ve had to tolerate has been me, hasn’t it?

  - Compositor Vstj, I don’t know why . . .

  - We’re going to need each other in the times to come, Terra. We’re all going to need each other.

  - Yes, yes we are, said Terra. Thank you, Compositor Vstj.

  Vstj turned to go. Terra called after him and he paused to hear her question.

  - You know the FaZoon better than anyone. Do you think the FaZoon are going to help us?

  Vstj pondered this for a moment, then:

  - I don’t think we matter that much to the FaZoon. I don’t think anything really matters to the FaZoon, do you?

  3.2

  Compositor Vstj had a longer journey home than most of his co-workers at the Preceptorate. Every evening he would activate his gravity bubble and proceed through the fading light towards, and then beyond, the city limits of Hrrng.