Earth 2788 (13 page)

“Amalie!” He
beamed at me. “It’s ready and it’s wonderful. No, it’s more than wonderful,
it’s totally zan!”

“What’s ready?”

“My house! Well,
not entirely ready, but the roof is on, and there are interior walls, so you
can come and see it tomorrow.”

Come and see it
tomorrow? I had the feeling I was missing some basic facts here. I took a
closer look at Rodrish’s green face. “Are you drunk again?”

“Only a little,”
he said. “A couple of glasses of Pedra’s home brewed whiskey.”

“A couple of
glasses of Pedra’s whiskey would knock out an Asgard bison.”

“I know. I was
just nervous about … Chaos, I’m not doing this very well, am I?”

I grinned. “I’m
not even sure what you’re trying to do, so no you aren’t.”

“I thought I’d
messed everything up falling off the roof like that. It had to be the worst
offer of marriage ever, so I daren’t even message you afterwards, but given
you’ve done what I asked and waited for me to get my house built …”

Offer of
marriage? I tried to remember exactly what had happened on the day of the pink hummingbird.
I certainly hadn’t noticed Rodrish offering me marriage. He had been shouting
something before he fell off the top of the dome, but it hadn’t made any sense
until the final “Oh nuke!” when his foot slipped.

“Rodrish Jain,
are you offering marriage to me?” I asked.

“Yes.”

I wasn’t sure
how to react to this. Normally, I slapped down any drunken offer of marriage
without even pausing to think about it, but this was Rodrish Jain, the son of
one of the Founding Families of Miranda. I hesitated before saying anything.

“Rodrish, you’re
drunk. If you’re serious about this, you’ll have to ask me again when you’re
sober. Preferably when we’re face to face, rather than just calling me.”

He gave a
despairing shake of his head. “But I can’t do this sober. I needed a couple of
drinks before I had the nerve to say it in a call, and saying it in person is
even worse. That’s why I got so drunk on my last day at school. I kept thinking
another drink would help.”

I frowned.
Actually, that did explain a lot. Despite being a son of one of the Founding
Families, Rodrish Jain was a quiet, shy boy, who didn’t normally drink much.
One of the reasons everyone remembered the pink hummingbird episode was that it
was so out of character.

“I accept you
find these things difficult,” I said, “but you wouldn’t have to actually say it
again. If you call me tomorrow, I’ll take it as meaning you were serious about
the offer of marriage.”

“All right,”
said Rodrish.

“Goodbye then.”

There was a very
long pause. Eventually, I tried again. “Goodbye, Rodrish.”

“Oh. Right.” He
ended the call.

I frowned down
at my blank lookup screen. If Rodrish Jain was serious, and I was certain he
was serious despite the two glasses of Pedra’s whiskey, then my future was
decided. Rodrish was a nice quiet dependable boy, at least he was when he was
sober, and given his parents’ status …

I was going to
marry Rodrish Jain. I let that thought sink in for a moment, picturing myself
announcing this to my stunned family, and all the interfering neighbours who’d
been nagging me about my duty to marry. I could tell them that Rodrish Jain had
offered me marriage last year, but we’d been waiting for me to be 17 and for
his house to be built before telling anyone.

I pictured the
look of shock and embarrassment on their faces. The ones who’d made pointed
remarks about me not doing my duty would feel total idiots. They’d been
criticizing a girl who was already betrothed to a son of one of the Founding
Families!

My lookup chimed
again. I checked it and saw Lomas had sent the promised information. There was
no point in me reading it now. I was staying on Miranda, and marrying Rodrish.
Information about travelling to a world in another sector to study history was
completely irrelevant.

I tapped my
lookup, and started reading it anyway.

Planet K21228, Kappa Sector, October
2788.

Part
I

Planet K21228 was about to move
from Planet First to Colony Ten stage. I stood outside our base, my back to the
cluster of massive grey domes, and stared up at the sky. There was a whole list
of rules for the ceremony where the Military formally handed over a new colony
world to its first colonists. The first rule on the list was that it must not
rain.

I couldn’t see a
single cloud overhead, but it was a windy day so the weather could change fast.
I currently had sixteen fighters scattered across the skies of what would soon
be the inhabited continent of Planet K21228. I tapped the curved shape of the
Military lookup attached to the left sleeve of my uniform.

“Command Support,”
said the briskly efficient voice of Major Rayne Tar Cameron. “How can we assist
you, Colonel?”

“Please patch me
through to Major Tell Dramis,” I said.

“Patching you
through now, sir.”

I heard the
faint crackle as I was linked to the command feed. “Major Tell Dramis, can I
have a status report?”

“Sir, my team
report there are absolutely no signs of enemy clouds,” said the cheerful voice
of Drago Tell Dramis. “If we sight any hostiles, we will fire immediately!”

“This is not an
appropriate subject for humour, Major!” I snapped. “Thousands of my officers
have worked for years to prepare this planet for colonization. Seven of those
officers died. If we get so much as one drop of rain during the handover
ceremony, then all that effort and sacrifice will be wasted, because every
colonist setting foot on this world will be scared of their own shadow.”

“Colonel Torrek,
sir, I’m fully aware of the importance of this,” said Drago.

I ignored him. “Everyone
remembers what happened to the last colony world where it rained during the
handover ceremony. Every horror vid set in the nightmare of the Thetis chaos
year features the sudden torrential rainstorm in the middle of the handover
ceremony on Thetis. I don’t want this to be the first handover ceremony in over
a quarter of a millennium to …”

I broke off.
There was an awkward silence, and then I sighed. “Sorry, Drago. I shouldn’t
have ranted at you like that but I’m a bit tense this morning. Handover
ceremonies are always big moments, but this one … My last handover ceremony. My
last command. My last day before retirement. Well, as I said, I’m a bit tense.”

“Perfectly
understandable,” said Drago, “but there’s no need to worry. There isn’t a
single cloud over this continent. My team are monitoring two cloud formations
offshore, but they’re both moving away from us. If the wind changes direction,
then we’re ready to seed them out of existence.”

“Thanks, Drago.”

I tapped my
lookup to end the call, went inside the nearest dome, and along the corridor to
my quarters. The rooms were bare and unwelcoming now that most of my personal
possessions had been packed away in my set of hover luggage. The only
decorations left on the walls were my set of three holo portraits.

I went to stand
in front of the portraits and studied them for a few minutes. I was at the end
of my Military career, so it had seemed fitting to set the portraits to show
images from the very start. The one on the left showed me at my Military
Academy graduation almost exactly sixty years ago. Chaos, I looked impossibly
young and naive, not to mention hideously uncomfortable in my dress uniform.

Both the other
portraits showed images from that Military Academy graduation as well. In the
centre was a laughing girl, her waist-long hair hanging loose in open defiance
of the advised hair styles when wearing dress uniform. By the time we’d reached
graduation, the instructors had given up arguing with her about the hair. They
were just counting the seconds until she’d leave the Military Academy, and
their nerves could start recovering from the strain of having her there.

Over on the
right, the third portrait showed an immaculate young officer. Perfectly at ease
in his dress uniform, with a correctly serious expression on his face, and
proudly holding the Military Academy Shield of Honour for the cadet with the
highest overall score. He was less than two months older than me, but he’d
always managed to look at least three years my senior and about a decade more
sophisticated. That was only one of the reasons I’d spent most of my time at
the Academy wanting to murder him.

“Well,” I said.
“This is it. Wish me luck!”

I heard the
voices in my head calling back to me. The female one was always eager and
emotional. “Luck to you, Riak Torrek!” The male one had a bored, superior tone.
“You can do this, farm boy!”

I took a deep
breath, and called General Kpossi at Colony Ten Command. She was waiting for
the call, so her image appeared on my lookup within seconds.

“Sir,” I said, “Planet
K21228 is now moving to first stage colonization.”

“You have clear
skies, Colonel?” asked General Kpossi.

“Sir, we have
totally clear skies.”

“Then I shall
send your colonists the one hour countdown alert.”

General Kpossi’s
image froze while she sent the standard, pre-prepared message. A group of a
thousand colonists were waiting at one of the Military bases in Kappa sector.
They hadn’t known it, but they’d been assigned to K21228 for the last two
months. Their last stage training had been specially tailored for conditions on
K21228. The day and night cycle of their accommodation domes had been set to
match the time zone of the prospective inhabited continent of K21228. Three
days ago, they’d been moved to standby status, and since then we’d just been
waiting for a sunny day to welcome them to their new home.

Colonists were
never told what planet they were going to until they got the one hour alert, in
case there were last minute problems with their world and they had to be
reassigned. Now a thousand people were reading General Kpossi’s message, and
knew their new home was going to be planet K21228. Their bags were already
packed. Their crates of equipment and stores, their vast stacks of flexiplas
dome parts, their seed for crops, were already loaded on transport sleds. The
colonists only had to get their livestock organized and they’d be ready to move
out.

I had a
pre-prepared message ready too. The handover ceremony was when we gave a new
world to humanity. That ceremony wasn’t just for the incoming civilian
colonists. It was also for the Military who’d risked their lives to make that
world safe.

I tapped my
lookup, sending my message out to all the officers still here under my command,
as well as those who’d completed their part in opening this world years ago and
moved on. Many of those people had already returned to join the handover
ceremony, while others were stationed in star systems close enough that they
could portal here as soon as they got my message. Others were on assignments on
worlds in strict quarantine, so they couldn’t attend the handover ceremony, but
they would be watching the vid coverage on live link.

General Kpossi’s
image came to life again. “Your colonists confirm they should be ready to move
out on schedule. They’ve got one especially recalcitrant cow, but we can always
ship that out to them later.” She smiled. “You haven’t reconsidered your
position on retirement, Colonel?”

I fought the
urge to groan. Last year, I’d formally registered my decision to retire at the
end of this assignment. Ever since then, people had been trying to change my
mind.

“No, sir,” I
said. “I’m 80 years old. From now on, I’ll need increasingly frequent and
lengthy rejuvenation treatments to keep me in good health. It’s time for me to
retire from active duty.”

“You aren’t
quite
80 years old yet, Colonel.”

“A few months
make little difference, sir. The position of a Planet First commanding officer
is both physically and mentally demanding. I’m no longer capable of meeting
those demands. It’s time for me to step down and retire.”

General Kpossi
shook her head. “I disagree, Colonel. You’ve had a long and distinguished
career, but I don’t believe that career should end yet. Your leadership skills
inspire confidence and trust, your patience and people management skills mean
you can deal with the most difficult of officers, and you’ve an extraordinary
ability to pick the right people for any position.”

“Thank you,
General,” I said, “but many other officers are as good at all of those things,
and have the advantage of being much younger. I’ve done more than I ever
dreamed of in my Military career, achieved a rank and position that’s higher
than I ever expected, deserved, or wanted. Now it’s time for me to retire.”

“Riak, there’s
no point in belittling yourself to me. I know exactly how good you are, because
I served under your command myself twelve years ago. When I was struggling to
cope with bereavement, you helped me to pick up the pieces of my life and career.
You’re the reason I’m a General now.”

“I’m perfectly
confident that you would have reached your current rank without my assistance,”
I said.

“I disagree. If
you feel another Planet First assignment is too much, then have you considered
something entirely different, Colonel? A post at the Military Academy perhaps?”

I was shocked,
wondering how General Kpossi knew I was thinking about my days at the Military
Academy, then realized the obvious. The holo portraits on the wall were in full
view of my lookup.

I glanced at the
portraits, pictured myself as an instructor at the Military Academy, and
cringed. My every memory of the Academy was of the three of us. Going back
there alone, to a place where the ghosts of my past walked every corridor,
would …

“No, sir. A post
at the Military Academy would be totally impossible.”

General Kpossi
sighed. “Well, if you think of any other type of post that might tempt you,
please let me know.”

“Thank you, sir.
I’m afraid I really must go now. I have a handover ceremony to organize.”

I was lying, my
deputy was organizing the handover ceremony for me, but General Kpossi didn’t
know that. “Of course, Colonel.”

I ended the
call, went into my bedroom, changed into my dress uniform, and studied myself
in the mirror. I felt I didn’t just look 80, but as if I’d already reached my
hundredth and was waiting to peacefully die of old age! The jacket collar was
annoying me as usual. I tugged at it, which only made it worse.

I’d been told
that my problems with dress uniform were entirely psychological, a lingering
legacy of my struggle to make the adjustment from being a civilian to being a
Military officer. It was true that dress uniforms bothered me far more when I
was under stress, but I still felt the fancy design of the collar was really to
blame. I avoided wearing my dress uniform whenever I could, but today it was
mandatory.

I checked the
time on my lookup. Still forty minutes before the handover ceremony was due to
start, and I absolutely mustn’t turn up early. My deputy would be frantically
organizing everything, and having me watching wouldn’t just distract her but
make her think I didn’t trust her to get this right.

I sighed, headed
back out into the living room, and shook my head at the male portrait on the
wall. “Don’t give me that smug look. I know I’m not a walking Military
Recruitment poster like you, but at least I never …”

There was a loud
thump from behind me. I whirled round and discovered my apartment door was
lying on the floor. A boy in a Military Cadet’s uniform was standing next to
it, an appalled expression on his face.

“Dreadfully
sorry, sir. I was ordered to remove all the doors on this corridor. I’d no idea
you were in here.” He tapped the lookup on his sleeve in a blind panic,
obviously double-checking his instructions. “Maybe I got the wrong …”

I peered at his
lookup screen. “That says corridor D1, and this is definitely corridor D1.
Please calm down, Cadet. This isn’t your fault.”

I tapped my own
lookup, and Major Rayne Tar Cameron’s face appeared. It was always Rayne who
answered my calls. The woman was incredibly efficient, but she couldn’t
possibly answer every Command Support call herself, so my guess was she had a
routing algorithm set up to send what she considered important calls directly
to her.

“Command
Support. How can we assist you, Colonel?”

“Rayne, can you
send a message to whoever is in charge of dismantling this base and has flagged
dome D for removal? Tell them that Colonel Torrek sends his compliments, and
points out that his quarters are in dome D. He will still be using those
quarters until noon tomorrow, and would prefer the rooms to have the standard
number of doors, walls and ceilings until then.”

She blinked. “Surely
they haven’t actually …?”

“Just my front
door, and don’t worry.” I glanced across at where the cadet was working on
replacing the door. “Someone’s already putting it back. Just try to stop it
happening again.”

“Yes, sir.”

I ended the call
and turned to the cadet. I didn’t like the resigned expression on his face. I
didn’t know how many mistakes the boy had already made in his time at the
Military Academy, but he’d reached his limit with this one. He’d given up now.
As soon as he’d put my door back in place, he was going to go and tell his
instructor that he was leaving the Military. I knew the signs perfectly,
because I’d been through exactly the same thing myself. Even after six decades,
I could still remember the feeling that I was drowning in a wave of despair and
failure.

“This wasn’t
your fault, Cadet,” I repeated. “I assume the Military Academy has sent your
class here on a field assignment. We’ve had a lot of classes visiting in the
last few months. It’s good experience for cadets to visit a Planet First base,
but naturally they can only come to worlds that are out of full quarantine and
nearing handover stage.”