Star of Hope

by Moira McPartlin

  ‘And this fine lady is Reinya.’ Reinya wiggled her fingers in a reluctant ‘Hi’.

  ‘And grumpy at the back is Dawdle.’

  ‘Oi you, less o the cheek.’

  ‘He’s king of the Noiri but you’d never tell.’

  At the mention of Dawdle’s status the girl’s eyes opened wide. She stared at Dawdle and shrank a little further back into her skin. Not so brave without her army.

  ‘You don’t need to be scared of him, he’s harmless.’

  Dawdle growled at me in reply to my comments but the girl, although silent, seemed to take it all in. And then as if some cog had slipped into place in her brain she began to smile. It was a gruesome smile; more like an animal’s snarl but it was a smile none the less.

  She held out her hand and pulled back the cuff of her jacket. There was a tattoo scratched there. N0N1.

  ‘N zero N one. It’s a number,’ I said. ‘A tattoo.’

  ‘Why the tattoo?’ Reinya asked. ‘They didn’t even do that to the inmates of the prison ships.’ She moved from her place at the bow to get a little closer to the girl. ‘Let me see.’ The canoe rocked.

  ‘Oi!’ Dawdle shouted.

  But Reinya carefully hunkered down to the girl’s eye line. ‘That’s yur number, what’s yur name?’

  The girl swallowed as if this was a hard question. ‘No name.’

  Reinya looked at the markings. ‘Noni. We’ll call you Noni. What about that?’ The girl looked blank.

  ‘Ma great gran wis cried Nonnie, short fur Norah,’ Dawdle said.

  ‘Cool name. Uh hate my name,’ Reinya said.

  I pointed to the girl. ‘You Noni, me Sorlie.’ She nodded her understanding, pointed to her own chest.

  ‘Noni,’ she said.

  When we passed under a bridge, Dawdle stopped paddling and dropped a small anchor. He crawled along to where we sat. He tried to take Noni’s hand but she shucked it away.

  ‘It’s OK, ‘e won’t bite,’ Reinya said. Rich coming from her. She was like a scared wild animal when we first found her. Reinya took Noni’s hand and showed the tattoo to Dawdle.

  ‘You realise what this is?’ he said.

  ‘Eh, a tattoo.’ Reinya could be so lippy sometimes.

  ‘A product number, an experiment.’

  The word chilled down my spine and brought back the horrible memories of the DNA dilution experiments that happened back at Black Rock penitentiary.

  ‘Did aw the kids huv these?’ he asked Noni. She nodded. ‘Where’s yer parents?’ She frowned her heavy brows.

  ‘Yur Ma and Pa?’ Reinya asked. Noni shook her head and dragged her hand from Reinya’s grasp.

  ‘What experiment, Dawdle?’ I had to know.

  ‘Look at her. Does she no seem a bit different, even to me, a mere native?’ Dawdle never let an opportunity pass to remind me of my Privileged genes.

  He began rooting under his seat and produced what looked like a crowbar. Why he was carrying a crowbar around with him was anyone’s guess. He handed it to her. Bend – he signalled a bending motion.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ I said.

  The girl cocked her head to one side in puzzlement. Dawdle took the bar and tried to bend it. Ropes of sinew stood on his neck. He gritted his teeth, red-faced.

  ‘Eeeee. Not a budge.’

  ‘Course not, fool,’ Reinya said. She looked into the water. ‘Come on. Rain’s stopped. Let’s get on.’

  But Dawdle had his own experiment to perform. He handed the bar to the girl. She took it between two hands. I saw her neck tense, her wrists taut, lips pursed in concentration. Slowly she applied pressure. Nothing happened at first, then a slow groan came from her and the bar began to bend.

  ‘Impossible,’ Reinya said. Sweat appeared on Noni’s brow despite the cold breeze tunnelling under the bridge. She let out a breath and dropped the bar, rubbed her hands together then shoved them under her oxters.

  ‘What just happened?’ I asked. She hadn’t made much of an impression on the bar but it was definitely out of shape.

  ‘What?’ Reinya asked. ‘She done some o that strong man stuff or what?’

  Dawdle didn’t look too pleased with the results of his experiment.

  ‘Ah telt ye.’

  ‘Telt us what?’ Dawdle narrowed his eyes at my mocking of his words.

  ‘What dae ye think N for NONI stands fur?’

  Reinya shook her head but I had a dread rumbling in the pit of my stomach.

  ‘No way, they wouldn’t,’ I said.

  ‘Aye way. They would, and it looks like they huv,’ Dawdle pronounced.

  ‘What?’ Reinya would have stamped her feet if she’d been on dry land.

  ‘They’ve recreated the Neanderthal from DNA.’

  Ishbel

  The Bieberville settlement was far from what Ishbel expected. The first thing to hit her was the warmth of the place. She heeled snow off her boots before stepping over the threshold and allowing the heat to grasp her from her face to her damp toes. The second thing to hit her was the sight of the wood-panelled walls. So much fuel. How did they get away with it? She tugged her glove off with her teeth and touched the wall to make sure it wasn’t an illusion and just plastic cladding. It was warm, just as she remembered from home and almost alive, as it should have been.

  A hissing and schooshing was happening just out of sight, slamming her with memories of a coffee shop in her home town in the Northern Territories. Smooth muzak doo-bee-dooed in the background, careful not to disturb the peace. A map of the world as it looked last century hung on the wall. She studied it and shook her head at the land mass; so much land now under water. She breathed deeply. The smell of wood was overpowering, but mingled there she could detect the delicious smell of coffee. She edged her way past plastic tables and tiptoed round the corner and caught her breath. On the wall hung a board chalked with an array of choices spelled out on coloured menu boards. She touched the wood counter and licked her lips in anticipation, resisting the urge to bite her tongue and wake her from this dream; she didn’t want the dream to go. The small man hovered in the background, letting her absorb the place in full.

  ‘What can I get you?’ a petite girl asked from the corner where she was polishing a shiny machine.

  ‘Flat white,’ the words were out of Ishbel’s mouth before she thought how ridiculous they were. She’d only ever heard them uttered in ancient movie-casters.

  ‘No problem,’ the girl said. ‘Take a seat, I’ll bring it over.’

  ‘If this is Bieberville, why are dissidents sent here?’ Merj had as much wonder in his voice as she did.

  ‘There is much you have to learn of this place.’ The small man smiled. ‘My name is Keats,’

  he said. ‘And I know you are Ishbel, but you?’ He peered at Merj with intelligent eyes and Ishbel couldn’t help notice Merj visibly bristled under the scrutiny. Guilty conscience, she thought.

  ‘My name is Merj. I’ve been sent by The Prince to help.’

  ‘Come then, you have travelled far, I know.’ Keats ushered them to seats by a spitting stove. ‘You must be cold and tired.’ He shook his head. ‘And that last part. Unexpected, yes, unexpected.’

  ‘What was it?’ Ishbel asked

  ‘Border Control. Unexpected.’

  ‘It didn’t come from here?’ Merj sounded unconvinced that it was unexpected.

  ‘No!’ The man sounded insulted. ‘Why would we fly your flag to welcome you and then shoot at you?’

  ‘You flew the flag to welcome us?’ Ishbel said. ‘So there are no other Blue Pearl Ops here?’ ‘Yes, we flew the flag and the border guard presumed we were welcoming more refugees.’

  ‘More refugees?’ Ishbel knew water reffos were a problem in Lesser Esperaneo but hadn’t realised it affected the mainland too.

 
‘Yes, from the floodlands. We are forbidden to take more.’

  ‘Is that what that “unexpected” strike was about?’ Merj made the inverted commas sign with his fingers as he spoke. What a dolt, Ishbel thought.

  ‘Where are the resistance?’ she asked. ‘We were supposed to meet them here.’

  Keats shook his head. ‘They have gone. Fear betrayal.’

  Ishbel shot a look at Merj but he ignored her, preferring to watch the girl walk towards them.

  Keats stood at her approach. ‘Aw, Lily, delicious. Thank you.’

  Lily placed the flat white on the table and Ishbel almost wept with the emotions that rushed through her body. It had a scent of cinnamon and a leaf of cream swirled on top. Images of a pine tree hung with coloured baubles, roasted birds and sweet sickly cake flooded her mind. Distant childhood memories she couldn’t pin down, but she knew that these simple things used to make the natives happy for one day at least. She shook them off as nonsense and turned back to the small man who stared at her.

  ‘I’m confused with the whole set up. I was instructed to follow the map’s directions to a safe settlement, here, where I would be met by members of the resistance. They would take us…’ She had said too much. The coffee memory had melted her reason.

  But Keats smiled. ‘Yes, take you to the TEX.’

  ‘Come on, tell us,’ Merj said. ‘Are you the resistance then?’

  Keats continued to address only Ishbel. ‘Where did you pick him up from?’

  She smiled. ‘Are you the resistance?’

  ‘No, but I can help you.’ The coffee machine schooshed again but there was no other customer in the place. In fact they had seem no one else, other than Keats and Lily, since they arrived.

  ‘Where is everyone?’

  ‘Oh, everyone is at home.’

  ‘Home!’ Even that word stabbed her deeply.

  ‘Yes. It’s Yule. We still celebrate here. Nights long, days short. We need some fun to brighten our days.’ He nodded with enthusiasm. ‘Too many festivities yesterday. Everyone has a rest day.’

  ‘What about her?’ Merj snarled, pointing towards the girl.

  ‘We knew you were near. Lily offered her rest day to be here for you in case you came.’ A grievance lingered in Keats’ voice.

  ‘Why?’ Merj asked. Ishbel kicked him under the table.

  ‘Thank you, Lily,’ she said and kicked Merj again.

  ‘Yes, thank you.’

  ‘So, the resistance?’ Ishbel still couldn’t believe her rendezvous had been messed up.

  ‘No need for them anyway, which is just as well.’

  ‘Why no need?’

  ‘The man you seek is here.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Here, in this settlement. You will meet him later. First you will eat, then rest. You can wash. We will give you warm clothes. And tonight we have a celebration. Everyone in the settlement will come. We will have fun.’

  Lily brought over bowls of watery soup and slices of meat. Ishbel sniffed it, at first suspicious.

  ‘Elk.’ Ishbel said to Merj. He threw her a dagger look and tore a strip off with his strong teeth. She supped the soup and pushed her portion of meat over to Merj. She’d never eat meat again.

  ‘I will leave you now and join my family,’ Keats said and left.

  When the meal was over, Lily led them through a door into a back room where two bunks lay covered with elk skins. Another stove blazed hot and welcoming. She pointed to a door at the back wall.

  ‘Plenty hot water.’ Lily smoothed down one of the skins. ‘Please, rest,’ she urged them.

  ‘Go ahead, Ishbel,’ Merj said. ‘I’ll stay on watch.’

  ‘There is no need to stay on watch,’ Lily said, before closing the door.

  ‘I’ll be the judge of that.’

  Ishbel didn’t care about Merj’s judgement. She stood in the hot shower for as long as her conscience allowed. When she pulled on the clean dry clothes she felt almost human again. She lay on the bed and, despite the fact animal skins were forbidden by the State, she pulled the elk hide over her. Before she sank into oblivion the image of the lone Transport came back to her mind. Who was in that Transport, who alerted them and who had betrayed the resistance?

  It was dark inside and out when Lily woke them. The stove had burned down to embers so Lily threw in a couple of booster logs, igniting the room with light and warmth. Music drifted in from the café, alive and inviting. Pipes and reeds skirled a familiar jig from Ishbel’s homeland. Her foot tapped. She wanted to dance, then to cry with the melancholy of homesickness.

  ‘Come,’ Lily said. ‘The TEX is here. You must meet him.’

  The café was filled with people, but Ishbel spotted the TEX the moment she entered the room. He sat alone in the corner by the door. It was obvious he was the great Skelf by his weird clothes; unusual rags of another time, an attention-seeking time. The settlement dwellers all dressed in drab neutral clothes, so anonymous that they merged into a community of nondescript, as if being an individual was a crime. And yet they talked, laughed, and danced. Unlike most natives these dwellers did not graze but seemed to prefer to sit and eat. The seats were crammed around small tables round the edges of the room but away from Skelf’s corner, as if any contact with this being by the door would infect them with a deadly virus.

  The lone figure by the door looked right at Ishbel. A cowboy hat pushed back off his forehead. She hadn’t seen a hat like that since her childhood. There was something odd about his face, but she couldn’t pinpoint what was wrong from this distance.

  ‘Gross,’ Merj said behind her.

  Keats dashed to her side. He took her hand in both of his.

  ‘Come, come. Are you rested?’ he said, searching her face as if for signs of fatigue. ‘Come meet him. He awaits you.’

  The floor was cleared of tables in the middle to allow dancing. As Keats led her across the room, the dancing couples parted without instruction then filled the space again as soon as they passed. There was no grumbling, no resistance. Ishbel felt welcome.

  The man rose and took off his hat. He was completely bald and his pate reflected the strong lights of the café like a beacon. His face hung with loose jowls, flesh, wrinkled and dry with the wrongness she had first noticed about him. It gave him what used to be called a hangdog look and Ishbel remembered she’d seen this once before in her life.

  ‘Ishbel, may I introduce you to Skelf.’ Skelf took her hand and she noticed the skin, which like his face was also loose. And yet she knew from her intel that this man had been exiled twenty five years ago and he wasn’t yet fifty.

  ‘Let me get you something to drink.’ Skelf clicked his fingers for Lily to come serve him.

  Merj moved to the table and introduced himself, giving Ishbel the opportunity to stare at that skin.

  Skelf reminded her of Harry. He’d been one of Vanora’s old friends who lived in the Northern Territories. He’d escaped the UKAY and, like Vanora, had with him his riches of precious stones and gold to set himself up in his new home. As a child Ishbel had been scared of Harry. He looked so different from everyone else around. And as the years went by this man’s skin grew flappier. Eventually one day he disappeared for a month and when he returned his skin had been tightened and he looked five decades younger. He’d been modified, Vanora had told her.

  She explained to the mystified Ishbel that Harry had been something called a banker before the purge. A big obese banker and when he had fled and found himself in NT he’d been forced to live on normal rations. He lost weight so dramatically his skin didn’t have time to adjust and so it hung on him like a loose piece of ragging. Now, as Ishbel stared at this man before her, she could see he too had once been obese. As he returned her stare intelligence and recognition shone from his wrinkled eyes, mirroring her disgust.

  ‘I know wh
at you are thinking,’ the eyes seemed to say and she felt herself blink hard.

  He smiled. ‘I need to be modified you think, yes?’ He swept his hand across the room as if dismissing everyone there. ‘Why bother?’ He slumped back down on his seat.

  Ishbel was aware that she towered above the seated man but could see he was unconcerned.

  ‘Do you know why we’re here?’ she said.

  ‘I’ve a good idea. You want me to switch on some silos for some reason. Yes?’

  ‘I don’t know what silos are. But yes we need you to switch on some servers.’

  Skelf smiled and bowed his head to Ishbel.

  ‘There are two specific ones we need.’

  He continued to smile at her. ‘Oh, two specific? And you know where they are?’

  She knew he knew she had no idea where they were.

  ‘One more important than the other,’ Merj interrupted. ‘The Prince wants the medical technologies to make him whole, a cyborg.’

  Ishbel scowled. ‘That was not The Prince’s instructions. The Prince wants to save the natives.’ Merj shrugged.

  Skelf held up his hand. ‘Children.’ He settled back in his chair. ‘And tell me, why I should do that?’

  Ishbel swept her hand across the room in exactly the same way Skelf had.

  ‘To free these people.’

  ‘These people are free.’

  ‘They live under a plastic dome behind plastic walls.’

  ‘Only as a precaution.’

  ‘They are starving. You are starving.’

  He held up his cup. ‘We still do a mean latte. Where is that girl? Lily!’

  She could see the blood vessels throb on Merj’s temple.

  ‘This switch-off status has gone on long enough,’ Merj said. ‘We need to restore some aspects to take control of Esperaneo Major.’

  Ishbel had run through her speech in her head as she struggled against the Arctic tundra conditions and now, here was Merj beating her to the chase.

  ‘It is the best weapon we have against the State,’ Merj continued. ‘Look at you. You were once one of the most powerful men in the world. You could be again. We can help you into that position. All you have to do is tell us where the server farm is and give us the intel to switch it on.’ Merj gave Skelf his best confident grin.