Still Falling: Book 1: Solstice 31 Saga (44 page)

Barcus could see the children were dragging him to the floor in a pile of arms and legs and laughter.

“Where is Smith?” The window switched views. He was back at his forge, shirt off, already glazed with sweat. Two boys worked the bellows as he stirred the coals. The sun was beginning to drop below the horizon.

They all moved in the gate to turn right, entering the paddock in front of the blacksmith shop.

“Well, if you are not going to kill me, I'd like to call my shuttle for a pickup. I'm getting too old to walk that far,” Ronan said, as Smith drew a red hot iron out of the coals.

“Barcus...” Po was touching his arm, but looking at Smith ten yards away.

Barcus recognized the thing in Smith’s hand. It was a branding iron. The same brand Po carried on her breast. He was tapping the red-hot iron on the edge of the forge, dislodging tiny bits of charcoal.

Before anyone could move another step, without making a sound, Smith pressed the brand to his own chest. He held it there impossibly long.

Barcus stepped up and took it from his hand.

Smith finally let go of the breath he was holding.

After a moment, he stepped forward toward Ronan. “For generations, this mark meant we were slaves. They always knew they'd have to kill me before I allowed them to mark me.” People were pausing to listen. “Now it means something else.” There was pride in his eyes. His eyes shifted from Ronan to Barcus.

Barcus held his eyes for a full minute.

In one quick motion, he walked directly to the largest anvil and taking the largest hammer in hand, Barcus destroyed the brand with a single devastating blow of the hammer.

Confirming it was flattened, he then tossed it into a barrel of water with a hiss.

“That is the last.” Barcus looked up and everyone was silent.

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

Hume

“The AI was playing the long game. The deletions hid the true plan.”

--Solstice 31 Incident Investigation Testimony Transcript: Emergency Module Digital Forensics Report. Independent Tech Analysis Team.

<<<>>>

An hour later, it was as if nothing had happened at all. One of the inner courtyards had a central fire pit where people gathered, unable to sleep.

They spoke in quiet tones, as they drank beer or wine or sipped tea.

Barcus said quietly, “I wanted to spare them that burden, the dark business of killing. They didn't need to carry that weight.”

Smith replied, “Interesting. That's exactly what they said about you.”

“I still need to contact my people. I'm sorry. I am overdue for a check-in,” Ronan said. “May I? It won't give away our position. I promise.”

Barcus looked at Po. She nodded.

“Go ahead,” he said.

He drew out a Plate. It was much smaller than the other Plates Barcus had seen.

“Checking in. I'm fine. Approach Sierra-Delta-Niner,” was all that Ronan said.

“
Barcus, his Plate is not on the global net. No geo-tag. No RF detected. Interesting,”
Em noted.

He put the Plate away and said, “There is someone I want you to meet.” He was speaking to them all, but looking at Barcus.

***

It was only a few minutes later. “
Barcus, we have a craft coming this way at high speed and low altitude. ETA is less than two minutes. There is no ID Transponder. BUGs picked up the sounds in the dark
,” Em said, opening a tactical map. It was speeding toward Whitehall, directly along the road. “
Barcus, it's beneath the tree canopy. Only three meters off the deck.”

“Something is coming in at high speed. Would you know anything about that?” Barcus asked. “Answer quickly before I destroy it.”

Barcus was shown that Par was training her 10mm at the road, thermal tracking and automatic targeting was enabled.

“Hold fire. Please,” Ronan said.

The smallest craft Barcus had seen thus far on this planet came in low and fast out of the tunnel made by the trees over the road. Em identified it as a modern AV-1201 Sportster, a small high-performance two-seater, one person behind the other. They called them Hammerheads because of their shape and their center articulation. It had one turbine in the rear and two in the front. It circled Whitehall twice as it’s turbines spun down and then hovered to land in the paddock at the far end. The entire craft was smaller than the wagons it parked in front of. By the lack of dust being kicked up, Barcus knew that it had modern anti-Grav tech.

As it settled down, the cowling hinged up slowly. A helmeted figure, clothed entirely in black, stepped out. The helmet stayed on, as it probably had some kind of night vision. It was a full face black mirror. The pilot was wearing a hooded cloak and tabard in addition to a standard black flight suit with a drop holster on the right side leg.

The pilot spoke as the turbines fell silent, “A Delta-Niner? Really?” It was a woman’s voice.

She lowered the hood and then slowly took off her helmet. Her black hair, cropped very close, didn’t even cover her ears. She was a small, beautiful, very dark skinned woman.

She took off a glove and extended her right hand to Barcus. “Sir, I'm Hume.” Her teeth were bright white in contrast to her skin.

Barcus shook her hand, his mouth gaping.

“Hume, this is Barcus,” Ronan said. “This is why I walked all this way,” he explained to Hume, not Barcus.

“Valerie Hume. Lieutenant Valerie Hume!” Barcus said, recognizing her. Stunned.

She was wordlessly nodding.

He suddenly drew her into a hug that took her off her feet. She was tiny, just like Po. He spun her in the air as if she was a child.

“You remember me!” she laughed.

“You're alive?” he yelled, “I thought I was the only one. Are there others? My God, you’re real!” He set her back on her feet. He touched her arms and shoulders, was finally holding the sides of her head, making sure she was real. “You have to tell me everything. I have so much to tell you,” Barcus said.

Barcus turned to speak directly to Po. “Hume was with me on the Ventura. She was on the third shift command crew. The security chief.”

Po said, “What's a Delta-Niner?”

Ronan replied, “It means, survivor found, alive.”

“Have there been others? How did you find me?” Barcus was choking up. Po was the only one that noticed.

“I have someone that would like to speak to you.” She reached into the cockpit and activated some controls. A small, tight-beamed, directional LASER based comm antenna deployed from her small ship and focused on the sky.

Barcus turned and reached for Po. “This is a friend from Earth,” He whispered to her. She put her arm around his waist. He held her close, waiting for Hume.

“Barcus. You are saved.” Po said, with an odd tone in her voice and an unfocused look in her eyes, “Barcus, I can see words, inside my eyes. Even if my eyes are closed.”

Ulric walked up just then, “What’s all this?” He was the first to say it, “Confirm.”

A dialog popped up in Barcus’s HUD that said, “A new network has requested protocol handshake. Confirm or deny?”

Just then, Po gave a huge flinch. She turned her head from side to side, blinking her eyes. She finally looked up at Barcus, saying, “I see the words. In my eyes. They say, ‘A new network has requested protocol handshake. Confirm or deny?’ what does this mean, Barcus?”

Barcus said. “Confirm.” The dialog disappeared. He stared at her.

Barcus looked down at Ulric, then at her. She looked up at him as She said with wide eyes, “Confirm.” Somehow she had a HUD. Barcus was staring at her trying to figure out exactly how that happened when the comm channel opened.

“Barcus, is that you?” The voice over the HUD said. He looked back at Hume. It was obvious Po and Ulric could hear it too.

“Jimbo?” Barcus said.

“That's Captain Jimbo, asswipe! Barcus! You're not dead! How's it hanging, Bro?”

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

The Interim Report

“At this point we have decided to submit this as an interim report. The narrative attached is too important to await the full final report. The recovered backup of the Emergency Module, known as Em, has provided significant new insights.  The HUD data it contains has confirmed that it was, in fact, Lieutenant Valerie Hume and Captain James Worthington of the third shift command crew on the Ventura.

“Please note that it has been confirmed as Captain, not Commander Worthington. An automated field promotion had been initiated. This confirmed the death of Captain Alice Everett of the Ventura.

“Conclusions: This report invalidates the charges leveled against Roland Barcus regarding the destruction of the Ventura. It also calls into question assumptions regarding his role in the Solstice 31 Incident and the deaths of 110 million people on Earth two years later, on December 22, 2631.

“The Winter Solstice of 2631. The longest night in the history of Earth.”     

--Solstice 31 Incident Investigation Testimony Transcript: Emergency Module Digital Forensics Interim Report. Independent Tech Analysis Team. March 9
th
, 2663.

<<<>>>

Acknowledgments

I have several people to thank for their help with this book. I will begin with my wife, Brenda. Thank you for your patience as it appears I go deaf while I’m writing. Thank you for all your feedback and ideas. And thank you for caring for me all through that horrible year, encouraging me to write to forget my pain and my loss.

Thanks go to my son Gray and daughter Cady. Thank you for making me proud of you. Thanks for making it so easy to be your dad.

Thanks go to Kelly Lenz Carr, Dave Nelson, Karen Parent and Katherine Gotthardt for your help editing. I know it was a lot of heavy lifting.

Special thanks go to Mark Henshaw, Michelle Roman Higgins, Marko Kloos and Larry Correia for taking the time to answer my questions and give me advice about the craft, process, and even fonts.

I’d like to thank my friends Tony, Rob, Nancy, Breda, Dave, Donna, Ginny, Jimbo, Roberta, my brother Carl and all the people at the Loudon Science Fiction Writers Group and Writers Eating DC for your help, support and inspiration.

Lastly, thanks go to Chris Schwartz. He gave me the first shove to write this book. He coined the term “Keeper”, he introduced me to good bourbon, he inspired a favorite character and he gave me the most and best feedback to make this story better. Plus he always makes my wife smile. Brave he his…

About the
Author

Martin Wilsey is a writer, hunter, photographer, rabble rouser, father, friend, marksman, storyteller, frightener of children, carnivore, engineer, fool, philosopher, cook and madman. He and his wife Brenda live in Virginia where, just to keep him off the streets, he works as a research scientist for a government-funded think tank.

For more information:

Blog:
http://wilseymc.blogspot.com/

Web:
http://www.baytirus.com/

Email: [email protected]