Dark History
by Anthony Lukas
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Table of Contents parts: 1, 2, 3 |
part 1
Adams walked down the corridor, her captain’s eye automatically scanning the ship as she did. It was a bit unsettling to have crew salute as she passed, something that just did not happen in the normal daily operations of her starship. It would be cumbersome if not down right silly, for the crew to salute every time she walked by. But, of course, this was by far not a normal day and, moreover, she was walking with a representative of the State Department, a position that carried with it the automatic rank of commander.
This State guy relished in the rank, the salutes. Over the years, she had met a few State Department people, and most were decent, hard-working folk. But some, like this guy, Norman Bush, walking beside her — no, a bit ahead of her! — were arrogant, and some — like this one — were foolish.
The doors to the shuttlecraft bay anteroom slid open, and Adams and Bush joined others waiting there: her Number One, Commander Tom Sirius, ship’s historian; and sociologist Lieutenant Carla Wells and a security detail of two: commander of the sodbusters, Lieutenant Brian O’Rourke and one of his team, Teddie Scarpino.
Bush forged right ahead of Adams into the shuttle bay, earning a stern look from Sirius who opened his mouth to say something about this breach of etiquette but stopped by a wave of the hand from Adams. O’Rourke grinned, damn him.
They trailed behind Bush as he approached the pilot standing at the shuttle hatch. The pilot watched the little procession, and Adams saw her casually shift slightly so that she now stood directly in front of the hatch so that when Bush strode up, he had to come to a stop, face to face with the pilot. She met Bush’s glare with a calm voice: “Protocol requires that the captain be the first to enter a craft.”
Bush muttered, “Oh for pity’s sake,” and ostentatiously waved Adams ahead. She gave the pilot a sly smile as she boarded.
In minutes, the shuttle had left the bay, the pilot making the traditional roll so that those aboard could view the vessel they were leaving, a sight that always caught Adams’ breath. The Liberty hung reflecting the sunlight, the body of the ship sweeping back from the sharp bow to the light engines projecting from its side, like hilts of a sword. The ship, her ship, was beautiful.
The pilot continued the roll so that they could now see their destination, the blue planet beneath them, before starting their descent.
“Here we go,” breathed Adams.
* * *
Centuries ago, in the Great Migration from Earth, thousands of nations, groups and individuals had streamed out into the galaxy, fleeing what they thought were societies in decline, a warming planet and the catastrophic results of both.
The chaotic exodus lasted for decades, and then the Second Dark Ages descended on Earth, cutting Earth off from colonies and the colonies from each other for centuries.
A decade or so before, Earth again started reaching out into the galaxy, searching for those who had migrated centuries earlier. Ships began discovering “lost” worlds with decidedly mixed results. Some colonies were happy to be rediscovered; others wanted nothing to do with old Earth; and some contained only the moldering ruins of colonies that had not survived.
Another starship had detected the civilization on the planet to which Adams’ shuttle was now descending. It had discreetly monitored this world for a while before returning to Earth. The Liberty had been dispatched to make contact. This was not Adams’ first contact mission, but it was her first as a captain of a starship.
The plaza was immense, surrounded by buildings of monumental architecture. Severe gray stone facades stared down at the cheering thousands that filled the plaza. Adams and crew stood on a stage erected at the top of the stairs of the building which housed the Parliament. Upon first landing they had been escorted before the Parliament, introduced by the Prime Minister to that body. Speeches of welcome and mutual good will had ensued. A minister had introduced a resolution welcoming the people of Old Earth to New Earth. It had passed unanimously. Adams couldn’t remember the number of colonies that called themselves “New Earth.”
Bush had positively glowed at the attention and given a speech about the reuniting of the human race. Now, before the massive throng, he stood tall, or as least as tall as his somewhat diminutive stature allowed, waving at the crowd and basking in the cheers. Adams and her crew stood behind the politicians. More speeches ensued, including another by Bush, who quietly informed Adams that he would be Earth’s spokesman, which suited her just fine.
* * *
“They have us discreetly surrounded,” Commander Sirius said.
Adams and crew returned to the Liberty after a very long day of speeches and honorary banquets. Bush remained behind along with Wells, the sociologist-historian and Scarpino.
“Do they now?” said Adams, scanning the screens.
The initial survey ship had found that this planet had craft with faster than light drives, of a sort. They could take “short” hops within this solar system but were not capable of interstellar trips. That original ship’s captain was puzzled by the flights that she had observed. Small craft were observed making numerous jumps about and just outside of the system. Apparently they were patrolling space, guarding the system, although, as the other starship captain had noted, there didn’t seem to be anyone to guard the system against. These craft were too far from the survey ship for its captain to determine what weapons, if any, they carried. Several of those small ships now were loosely stationed around the Liberty.
“Well, keeping an eye on us before their bigwigs come aboard.” To Sirius’s raised eyebrow, she said, “Our esteemed ambassador enthusiastically acquiesced to their request to visit our ship. They’ll be up late tomorrow.”
“They specifically asked to come aboard?” said Sirius. “Early in contact process for that, isn’t it? Do we trust them?”
Adams sighed. “I don’t know. There is something about them, an arrogance in the leadership I met. I want to talk to Wells about her impressions.” Adams nodded at the ships on the screen, “Are they—”
“Armed?” said Sirius, “Oh yes, with missiles, and there are weapons ports, but whether they are a type of cannon or emitter weapons, I can’t say at this point. I do not detect any radiation levels, so no nukes. I doubt they could penetrate our defensive shields.”
“All right, keep a close eye on them. And on Wells and Scarpino on the surface.”
Adams left the bridge and went to one of the cafe areas on board. She got a tea, spotted Lieutenant O’Rourke at one of the tables and joined him. He had a coffee and piece of pie.
“Didn’t you get enough to eat at that banquet?”
O’Rourke regarded his pie. “Food for the soul,” he said. He sipped his coffee and looked at Adams over the rim of his cup. “Well?”
Adams shook her head. “They make me uneasy.”
O’Rourke snorted. “Really? Was it their overt arrogance or stated sense of manifest destiny that turned you off? Did you hear the Prime Minister talkin’ how this contact was inevitable, that it was their chance to take their place in the galaxy? Whatever the hell that means.”
Adams nodded. “There seems an underlying arrogance to these people—” She was interrupted by a call from Sirius.
“Adams here.”
“Captain, we have just heard from the Ambassador.”
“And?”
“We shall have to send the clipper down tomorrow instead of the shuttle craft.”
“Why?”
“Because of the number of New Earthers he has invited to tour the ship.”
Adams cursed quietly. O’Rourke grinned. She restrained herself from kicking him under the table. “How many ‘guests’?”
“Twenty at last count. Besides the politicos, a number of scientists and engineers have been invited.”
“How did this happen?”
“Apparently, there was a cocktail reception—”
“All right, never mind. Can you come up with appropriate tours and meetings?”
“Of course. And, Captain, you should know that some of their military people are coming as well.”
Adams swore again. “All right, better add some more security personnel.” She looked at O’Rourke with a raised eyebrow, but he shook his head.
She told Sirius to carry on then looked at O’Rourke. “And why can’t you help with these arrangements?”
“I’ll be heading down with the clipper. There’s been a wee bit of an incident.”
* * *
Wells and Scarpino sat at a table with their guides, whom Wells quickly realized were more minders than guides. Smyth, one of the two minders, was asking Scarpino, “What’s a sodbuster?”
“We are the first down on a new planet,” he replied. “We assess the environment, do some surveying for the scientific teams.”
“But you weren’t the first to come down here to New Earth,” said Smyth, with a look and tone as though he had caught Scarpino in a mistake, and Wells caught a quick and perhaps disapproving look from Yeats, their other minder.
But Scarpino just laughed.“First Contacts are way above my pay grade. Recontacts are the province of diplomats and executive officers,” he said. “Sodbusters are just the dirt guys.”
“Do you like being a sodbuster?” asked Yeats.
“I’m a sodbuster because I like the land, being the first to see new land. I want the open air and long vistas.”
“Must be hard, stuck in a ship.”
“A bit. Breathing canned air, and don’t get me started on where the ship’s drinking water comes from.”
Smyth seemed to be their main questioner throughout the day and evening, asking about the Earth’s fleet — “Don’t really have one,” Scarpino said — how it was organized and capabilities. Yeats asked more about themselves, what their lives were like, their families, why they had joined Earth’s starships and talked with Wells about life on New Earth.
New Earth, Wells thought. Many refugees have named their planets “New Earth.”
Smyth talked about New Earth as well but always in glowing terms: a near-perfect society and government. He was eager for his world to learn the “secrets” — he actually used the word — of deep space flight so that New Earthers could take their place among the known inhabited systems, echoing what the Prime Minister had said in his speech. He just smiled when Scarpino asked what that place would be. Wells sensed that he had the same unease she did about these people. She wished they could talk to Yeats away from Smyth.
They traveled parts of the city — “one of the many beautiful cities of our world,” said Smyth — pointing out this and that; and it was beautiful, built on several hills above a large river.
At one point though, Wells had looked down one of the streets that they were driving past and asked about that neighborhood. Smyth had been dismissive. “Nothing out of the ordinary down there,” he had said, but Wells had seen Yeats’s lips tighten.
Scarpino managed to find a tavern and also had somehow managed to get Smyth to drink a bit too much so that when they returned to their guest quarters, Smyth weaved off to his rooms, allowing Wells, Scarpino and Yeats to meet a short time later. Yeats pointed them down the hill to the neighborhood but declined to come with them. “If you are going there to talk to people, it’s probably best I not be with you.”
* * *
Wells and Scarpino wandered into the neighborhood. The streets were fairly crowded, and they settled in a cafe with just a few other patrons in it. They ordered some drinks from the owner behind the counter: a thin man, dark-skinned, a smile on his mouth but a wary expression in his eyes.
Wells ordered a dessert like the one that she had had at dinner earlier. Scarpino raised an eyebrow at her. “Don’t judge me,” she said.
They got their coffees and Wells’ dessert and sat at a table. An elderly man, a table away nodded, smiled and said, “Hello.” They were introducing themselves when two young men came in, went to the counter, pounded on it and demanded service.
The owner hurried behind the counter and placed drinks before the men. The taller of the two sipped his drink, proclaimed, “This is crap,” and threw it against the wall, smashing the glass and splattering the contents. His companion laughed and threw his.
“Hey, Later, give us more drinks,” laughed the first and turned to see Scarpino standing next to him. Wells hadn’t been aware he had moved.
“What?” demanded the loudmouth.
Scarpino said, “Is that how your mother taught you to behave?”
The kid swore at Scarpino and raised his fist, but it somehow ended bent behind his back with his body bent over the counter and his face smashed into the bar top. Scarpino forced his arm farther up his back until he yelped. Scarpino whispered in his ear, pulled him from the counter and marched him outside, the other man following behind. Scarpino released him with a shove and followed them for just a bit until they were gone.
When Scarpino returned to their table, the elderly man at the next table said, “Very efficiently done” and raised his glass in salute.
The owner brought another dessert with a smile of thanks. Scarpino said he couldn’t stand by while a small-business person was being mistreated. “My uncle owns a shop kinda like this, and I know how tough it is to make a living without morons like that.”
The elderly man, who had introduced himself as Jon Azura, nodded. “Yes, it is tough to make a living in this district. Incidents like that are unfortunately not uncommon.”
“What did he mean by ‘later’?” asked Wells.
“Ah’” said Azura, “ a pejorative referring to my people who arrived on New Earth after the ‘Founders,’ as they call themselves. Our ships arrived 100 or so years after the Founders had put down on New Earth, and we are widely considered to be interlopers here, a people here to take advantage of all that the Founders had built in the decades before we arrived.”
“How long ago did these Founders arrive here?” asked Scarpino.
“About 230 years ago.”
“So this attitude of theirs has been going on for a century?” said Scarpino, shaking his head.
“Indeed,” said Azura. “And I don’t know that I see any signs of it changing. You know, in a way they needed us here. Psychologically, I mean.”
“How so?” Wells asked.
“I think the Founders have always considered themselves to be exceptional. And, of course, settling planet is no mean feat; it is a great accomplishment But there is more to it, I think. A feeling of a natural superiority. Before we arrived they had no one to whom to feel superior, just the ghosts of those left behind on Earth, so to speak. But then we arrived, and those feelings could be made tangible, their notions of their natural leadership could manifest and grow.” He sighed. “Lucky us, to provide such a service.”
“So, Lords of the planet,” said Scarpino.
Azura looked at him thoughtfully. “Oh, you know, I think it goes beyond that.” He thought for a moment. “ Do you know their moon myth?”
Wells and Scarpino shook their heads.
“Ah, let me see if I can explain it.”
* * *
Copyright © 2022 by Anthony Lukas
