Culture Shock

by Christopher Nuttall

  Olaf met him there, looking concerned. “Steward? Did you get back from town?”

  Joel bit down a rather sarcastic response. Olaf was an idiot - Joel was right in front of him, damn it - but he was useful. And loyal. An intelligent man might start thinking about his own future, rather than mindlessly supporting Joel. And yet, it was frustrating at times.

  “Yes, I did,” Joel said. “And I still feel filthy.”

  He sat down and waited while the remainder of the group trickled into the room. He’d half-expected to be arrested, the moment he stepped into the guardpost, but the policemen had merely checked his ID before waving him onwards. There weren't many Forsakers heading to Lothian, it seemed. Joel had certainly done his best to discourage it. But even a handful of refugees visiting the town presented the police with a whole series of problems. How could they keep track of so many people without making it blatantly obvious?

  And they weren't following me, he thought. I kept an eye out and saw nothing.

  He smiled at the thought, then sobered. Lothian had been much less hostile than Tarsus City, where a person wearing Forsaker clothes could expect to be attacked at any moment, but in some ways that only made it more dangerous. His skin still crawled when he thought about everything he’d seen, the seductions that would inevitably draw hundreds of Forsakers out of the commune. The government didn't realise it - he thought - but their mere presence was a challenge to the commune. How could the commune maintain its integrity if half - or more - of its people left?

  And we are short of women, he reminded himself. He’d seen too many women in the city, practically flaunting their availability. Sex will lure too many of us away.

  He rose as soon as the doors were closed, his eyes scanning the room. Olaf and Adam were sitting in the front row, their eyes following him with interest. Behind them, the remainder of the group - including a tired-looking John - were sitting on the floor, waiting. John didn't look too happy to be there, but the invitation had been mandatory. Joel wasn't going to give up his hold on his stepbrother - and Hannah’s brother - too easily. He might have other ideas concerning his sister.

  “I went down to the city,” he said, without preamble. “It is a disgusting nightmare, a place of sin and degradation.”

  He spoke from the heart, freely outlining everything he’d seen; the women, the shops, the freedom to sin ... and the books, the books that lied about the past. It was impossible to believe that the original colonists had abandoned their ways so completely, not in a single generation. Joel and his commune had survived decades of oppression on Tarsus, maintaining their integrity no matter how many chose to leave. It was impossible to believe that their long-lost kin wouldn't do the same.

  But they might have been broken down, he thought, grimly. Who knows what actually happened?

  “We must defend our right to exist, to protect our culture,” Joel continued, once he’d finished his story. Olaf and his fellows looked enthusiastic; others, perhaps more thoughtful, seemed doubtful. “These people are weak! We can carve out a place of our own and hold it!”

  He had to smile. A strong government would have demanded that the Forsakers surrender or die. But the government on Arthur’s Seat didn't seem strong. He’d read enough about the world - on the ship, before their landing - to know that their government wasn't designed to take strong action. It was a curious oversight, but one he intended to exploit. Every little concession would make it harder for the government to refuse the next. And then ...?

  Keep your eye on the prize, he told himself, firmly. A place of our own.

  “But we must be prepared to fight,” he added, sternly. “And we must remain strong.”

  The training session lasted for nearly an hour, running through everything they’d learned over the last few weeks. It wasn't much, Joel was sure, compared to police or military training, but the police on Arthur’s Seat seemed reluctant to enforce their authority. He wouldn't have taken the risk on Tarsus. A set of armoured policemen could have effortlessly slaughtered the entire commune.

  “Watch your families,” he concluded. Sweat was trickling down his back. He’d need to take another shower. “Many will be tempted to walk away and leave the commune. They must not be allowed to go.”

  He expected a challenge, but none was forthcoming. He’d picked his men well. Forsakers might be allowed to leave - at the price of never returning, of never seeing their families again - but his men no longer cared. A person who left - now - was nothing more than a traitor to the entire commune. Joel knew he couldn't stop everyone from leaving the spaceport, but he could try to limit the outflow.

  And the seductions, he thought. Word must not be allowed to spread.

  “Your father wants to speak to you,” John said, as soon as the rest of the group had left. “He asked me to let you know.”

  My father, Joel thought. Konrad was John’s father too, in everything but blood. John had passed up the chance to declare himself patriarch. Joel rather suspected he regretted that now. At fourteen, he’d been a child; at nineteen, he was an adult. He still isn't used to his position.

  “Very good,” Joel said. John was his brother, too. “You didn't think to tell me earlier?”

  John said nothing. Joel eyed him for a long moment, wondering what - if anything - he was hiding. John could have made a dangerous opponent, if he'd had the nerve. His father had been renowned for being brave. But Hannah - not John - had inherited that particular trait from their joint father. How strange it was, he thought, to have such nerve and determination trapped in the body of a woman.

  “Then I will go see him,” Joel said, finally. “And I trust your sister is well?”

  “Mother is taking care of her,” John said. He didn't seem to believe that Mary was Joel’s mother too, at least in law. But then, Joel had been sixteen when Konrad had married the widow. “She has recovered.”

  “Good,” Joel said, as he led the way out of the room. John didn't understand, sometimes, that punishment had to be meted out. Disciplining someone was never pleasant, but it had to be done. Hannah could not be allowed to get away with defying her family. Or her husband, when they were married. “You may inform her that I will speak to her afterwards.”

  John shook his head. “You cannot talk to her alone.”

  Joel concealed his amusement. What had brought on this burst of bravery? He’d spoken to Hannah before in private, although his father had always been close by. It wasn't as if anyone cared, not really. Hannah’s reputation had been soiled long before Konrad had agreed to her betrothal to his eldest son.

  And our relationship is a little more tangled than it seems, he thought, dryly.

  “You may lurk in the next room,” Joel said, pleasantly. “Until then ...”

  He strode off down the corridor, leaving John staring after him. John wouldn't do anything, Joel was sure. He lacked the nerve to do anything. If he'd claimed his father’s title ... but he hadn’t and now it was too late. Joel couldn't help wondering if it had been Hannah who’d talked him out of it. That had been a mistake on her part, if she had. She’d exchanged a brother she could dominate for a stepfather she couldn’t.

  The thought made him smile as he entered the room the Elders had claimed for themselves, a day after they’d been allowed into the tent city. It was a mess. Bedrolls were piled up against the wall, the table was covered with books ... five of the nine Elders were sitting in a circle, arguing frantically about something. Joel was silently relieved that the four remaining Elders hadn't disembarked yet, even though it was awkward. There had to be at least seven Elders for a quorum.

  “Joel,” Konrad said. He rose, leaving the other four Elders to their argument. “Did you enjoy your trip?”

  “It was disgraceful, father,” Joel said. “Lothian is a sinful city.”

  “And yet, we must work with its people,” Konrad said, tiredly. It struck Joel, suddenly, that his father was old. He'd known, of course, that his father was in his early forties, but he�
�d never quite realised what it meant. The strong man who’d raised him was gone. “There’s nowhere else to go.”

  Joel blinked. His father had been strict, watching everything he did with a gimlet eye. Joel had never been scared of his teachers or the other boys, but he’d always been fearful of his father’s reaction. He'd never doubted that his father loved him, or that his father would fight for him ... and yet, the thought of disappointing him was terrifying. But now ... his father seemed frail and old, as if a gust of wind would blow him away.

  “We can build our own community,” Joel managed. He felt shaken. “Father ...”

  He looked at the other Elders, still arguing in their circle. He’d looked up to them as a child, seeing them as the font of all wisdom ... but now ... now they looked like doddering old men, unable to comprehend that the universe had changed. His head spun as he struggled to come to grips with what he was seeing. If they were old and weak, they wouldn't do what was necessary to save the commune. They wouldn't even notice as the entire structure came apart and melted into the local community.

  “If we can,” Konrad said.

  Joel tried to speak, but no words came. Where was the man who could quell opposition with a single sharp glance? Where was the man whose slightest hint of displeasure could cow him effortlessly? Where was the man ...

  “We have already been uprooted from one community,” Konrad said, gently. “What will happen if we are forced to leave again?”

  Joel felt a hot flash of bitter anger. “Father, we have to stand up for ourselves!”

  His father looked back at him. “With what?”

  Weapons, Joel thought. They’re in the supply crates ...

  He bit his tongue before he could tell his father about the weapons. There was no way his father would approve. It had taken weeks of arguing to convince the Elders that they could use baseball bats and makeshift swords as weapons, even though the entire community was under constant attack. Konrad would not agree to let him use weapons, certainly not modern weapons. The Forsakers were all about seeking out a simple way of life.

  But that simple way of life isn't going to help us if we’re threatened with extermination, he thought.

  It had already happened on Arthur’s Seat. An entire Forsaker community - perhaps not much larger than his - had been destroyed. Not physically, perhaps, but their way of life had been utterly crushed. Their descendants were not Forsakers. How could they be? They hadn't grown up in a Forsaker community. Nor had they chosen to leave the modern world behind and join a commune ...

  “We have to assert ourselves,” he said, almost pleadingly. He’d known his father wouldn't accept everything he’d done, but he’d never imagined that his mighty father would be so ... so weak. “Father ...”

  “We have to see to the future,” Konrad said. He shook his head, slowly. “You and Hannah will have children. I want them to have a future.”

  Joel nodded, shaken. Of course he’d have children. It was his duty to have children. And motherhood would quieten Hannah, make her more dependable. She'd stop dreaming of ... whatever ... and take up the role of wife and mother. The children would ground her in the real world.

  “But we may have to fight for that future, father,” he said.

  His father didn't seem to hear him. “Your mother was a remarkable woman,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I wouldn't have married again, you see, if I hadn't owed John a favour. His family needed to be protected. Their future needed to be assured.”

  Because John was a selfish bastard, Joel thought. He might not have needed a stepmother, but John and Hannah had definitely needed a father. And because Hannah had compromised herself.

  “Your future has to be preserved,” Konrad added. “And so does theirs.”

  “It will be, father,” Joel said. “I promise.”

  “You’re a good lad,” Konrad said. “I’m proud of you.”

  Joel said nothing. He was a Steward. It was his job, amongst other things, to support the Elders and enforce their decisions. But now ... he looked at the old men and felt nothing, nothing but contempt. They’d been pushed too far. The shock of being uprooted and transported light-years - literally - from their homes had been too much. And now ...

  He closed his eyes, unwilling to let his father see his internal struggle. He’d been raised to respect the Elders, to accept them as the leaders of his community. And he had served them faithfully, punishing or expelling those who defied the will of the community. He knew he’d been a good servant. He’d known he would inherit Konrad’s place in the circle when his father died ...

  And yet, the Elders had proved themselves unworthy of the role. They hadn’t even begun to face up to the challenges confronting them. And they didn't realise that they had to stand up for themselves. His fists clenched with bitter anger. Lives were at stake. The entire community was at stake. And the Elders were prepared to roll over and die!

  “Thank you, father,” he said, finally. It was hard, so hard, to keep his voice from shaking. “I hope I will always make you proud.”

  Konrad clapped him on the shoulder. “You will make Hannah a fine husband,” he said, seriously. “And she will make you a decent wife.”

  Joel nodded, slowly. “Thank you, father,” he said, again. “Once we are settled, I will marry her.”

  “It is a good thing to marry,” Konrad agreed.

  “Yes, father,” Joel said.

  He wondered, suddenly, just what his father had had in mind. A wife for his only son ... or a husband for a girl of questionable virtue, the daughter of one of his oldest friends? It didn't matter, he told himself savagely. Hannah would make a good wife. Her wandering ways would come to an end as soon as they were married. He’d make sure of it.

  But first, he had other concerns.

  He hugged his father, feeling oddly unsure of himself for the first time in years. His father had been a towering presence in his life for so long that it felt odd to think of him as anything else. As a son, it was his duty to look after his elderly relatives ...

  ... And yet, he also had responsibilities to the entire community.

  Shaking his head, he turned and walked out of the room. The Elders would have to go, sooner rather than later. They'd turned into doddering old fools who would only get in the way. And then ... after the community was established, he could make sure that only sensible men were raised to Eldership. They would never be allowed to grow weak again.

  And that will preserve us, he told himself firmly. From everyone.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  This should not have been surprising. A world - particularly a stage-one colony - might not have the surplus food to feed the newcomers, let alone the resources to train them to survive. Adding a few hundred thousand extra mouths might tip the colony over the edge, forcing them to deny the newcomers food.

  - Professor Leo Caesius. Ethnic Streaming and the End of Empire.

  “You’re still going out on the beat? After everything?”

  Mike nodded, reluctantly. His wife - the only person he'd told about the PCA investigation - had loudly told him to resign, after she’d heard the full story. Jane had a point, he had to admit. Everything he’d read on the datanet and in the newspapers suggested that the government was searching desperately for scapegoats, rather than actually coming to grips with the problem. But he’d sworn an oath, the day he’d started his training. He was damned if he was putting it aside ...

  But they’re betraying you, a nasty voice whispered at the back of his mind. He frowned as he checked his appearance in the mirror. They’re setting you up to take the fall.

  “There’s no shortage of work outside the cities,” Jane added, as Mike reached for his helmet and put it on. “We could leave altogether and ...”

  “I haven’t been charged yet,” Mike said. It had been a week since the interview ... no, the interrogation. Mike was experienced enough to know that it could take weeks to put together a charge sheet, if it was a complex
case, yet the lack of any demands for a second interrogation suggested that the PCA didn't have a case. “They might be hoping I’ll quit so they can take it as a sign of guilt.”

  His wife snorted. “And to think I thought they were loyal,” she said, resting one hand on her stomach. “What’s going to happen if they do charge you?”

  “A trial,” Mike said. “But I don't think they will.”

  He kissed his wife, then hurried out the door and down the road before she could come up with anything else. He loved Jane dearly, yet he didn't want to hear her concerns. Part of him knew she had a point - the PCA probably did want someone to blame for the whole affair - but the rest of him refused to give in. He tapped his radio, calling into the station as he strode down the street, his legs falling into the policeman’s stride. Technically, he wasn't on patrol until he’d reached the station and picked up his partner, but as long as he was wearing his uniform he had an obligation to be on alert for trouble.