Terra (18 page)

So now, in Mlml, everyone was doing everything they could.

Young fit Mlmlns were volunteering for the armed forces – too many, in fact. So diminished was Mlml’s military after so long without war, that there were barely enough officers to train the recruits, and no equipment for them to train with. For all that the sergeants drilled, and the munitions factories churned, few had any illusions that the Mlml defence forces would be ready in time.

In time for what? No one even knew if the G’grk were coming at all. There had been no formal declaration of hostilities, no contact at all with the G’grk since the fall of Dskt (or, for that matter, for many orbits previously). The hope that the G’grk would be satisfied, that Dskt was all they’d wanted, that crossing the sea to take Mlml would be more trouble than it was worth, was clung to throughout the land. That was all it was, just hope. Unlike the superstitious G’grk with their ‘Occluded Ones’, the Mlmlns didn’t even have any gods to pray to. So they kept on hoping, and meanwhile, everyone was doing everything they could.

The stores began to run low on protein as people stocked up, hoping their manipulators would still work in the event of an attack. Few people even knew how to prepare fresh produce these days. Cooking was considered a fringe activity; a craft, a hobby, rather than anything to do with sustenance.

Escape routes were planned by city dwellers; those who inhabited the urban sprawls of Hrrng, and Shsst, and even the smaller towns like Jfd-Jfd and Fzkl, drew up plans to flee to . . . where? And for how long?

Everyone was doing everything they could to take their minds off the fact that there was nothing anyone could do.

Except hope, and wait.

Life, as it does under such circumstances, went on as normally as possible. Routine serves a dual purpose in times of tension and impending crisis; it gets the things that need doing done and it gives people other things to think about.

Terra, sitting in the Lyceum yard at morning interlude, was thinking about Lbbp and how much she’d rather be with him right now.
This is stupid,
she thought,
I know that we have to keep going to class and Lbbp needs to keep going to work, but at any minute we could be at war and I might never see him again.
She wanted to spend every possible moment at his side. She entertained fantasies about the pair of them fleeing to Rfk and hiding out in the forest. Perhaps the war would pass them by completely and they could live together for ever among the flowers and trees.

Her reverie was shattered by the pinging sound which summoned her and her friends back to the lectorium. She sighed and got to her feet.

-
Come on!
said Fthfth.
It’s practical science! You like practical science!
She bounded back into the building.

Terra slouched towards the door. The pinging stopped, to be replaced by what sounded like a high-pitched whine.
What does that sound mean?
thought Terra.
Is it an alarm of some kind? It’s not starting, is it?
She looked to the skies, half expecting to see G’grk warriors descending like great flying beasts of prey.

It’d be louder than that, wouldn’t it,
she reasoned.
The alarm saying the nation was being invaded. It wouldn’t be a little whining noise you could hardly hear at all.
She chided herself for being so silly, while commending herself for being so alert.

The noise continued. It wasn’t a whine, it was more of a whimper. Someone was crying. Terra felt a pang of concern and decided to investigate.

Terra followed the sound. She found Yshn, tucked into the corner of the yard. He was sat down and curled up into himself, hugging his knees. His eyes were shut tight and he rocked back and forth, keening and sobbing.

-
Yshn . . . Are you . . .?

-
They live in Dskt. My aunt and uncle. They live in Dskt. No one’s heard anything from them since the G’grk arrived.

-
Yshn, they might be—

Yshn opened his eyes and turned angrily towards her. -
You know what they do to you? The G’grk? They enslave you. They convert all the factories to make weapons for themselves and then they make the people work for them in the factories. That’s the best I can hope for! That my aunt and uncle are slaves rather than dead!

He got up and ran across the yard, back into the building. Terra followed him into the corridor.

-
Listen, Yshn, there could still be . . .

Yshn spun round, furious. -
What do you care anyway? You’re not one of us. You’re more like them than you are like us. When the G’grk come you’ll probably be on their side, so you can enslave all of us and then go off and eat burnt animals together! You’ve even got a G’grk name, T’r!

Terra was struck speechless for a moment, then stammered, -
It’s not T’r, it’s Terra, it’s just a bit difficult to . . .

-
It’s T’r! And you’re a stupid animal, just like them!

-
That is ENOUGH!

A new voice, a grown-up voice, a voice full of anger and disgust. Terra turned to see who it was who had intervened on her behalf. To her astonishment, she saw Compositor Vstj, his face set with fury.

-
Yshn, we’re all very sorry about your aunt and uncle, and we’re all concerned about the future, but what you have just said is almost unforgivable. You will apologise to Terra immediately and you will mean it. Do I make myself clear?

Yshn was silent and open-mouthed. His anger abated and the horror and injustice of what he’d said to Terra struck him. He said, -
I’m . . . I’m really . . .
and then ran away down the corridor.

Terra made to follow him. -
Let him go,
said Vstj.
He needs some time to calm down and think things over.

Terra gazed down the corridor after Yshn, stunned both by the conversation she’d just had and indeed by the one she was now having. Was this really Vstj, being so kind and supportive? What had come over him?

-
I’m so sorry for what just happened,
said Vstj.
No one has the right to speak to you that way.

-
He’s having a bad time,
said Terra.
It wasn’t his fault.

-
We’re all having a bad time,
said Vstj,
it’s no excuse. You’re a very understanding person, Terra. It’s quite remarkable, considering everything you’ve had to tolerate. And I’m afraid that one of the things you’ve had to tolerate has been me, hasn’t it?

-
Compositor Vstj, I don’t know why . . .

-
We’re going to need each other in the times to come, Terra. We’re all going to need each other.

-
Yes, yes we are,
said Terra.
Thank you, Compositor Vstj.

Vstj turned to go. Terra called after him and he paused to hear her question.

-
You know the FaZoon better than anyone. Do you think the FaZoon are going to help us?

Vstj pondered this for a moment, then:

-
I don’t think we matter that much to the FaZoon. I don’t think anything really matters to the FaZoon, do you?

C
ompositor Vstj had a longer journey home than most of his co-workers at the Preceptorate. Every evening he would activate his gravity bubble and proceed through the fading light towards, and then beyond, the city limits of Hrrng.

Compositor Vstj’s home was a commanding pyramid-shaped house which sat on a hill overlooking the city. It had been built many orbits before Vstj was born, by one of Vstj’s many illustrious ancestors. Vstj himself had lived there as a child with his parents, and lived there now alone.

Most evenings upon his arrival, Vstj would let himself in by one of the smaller entrances at the rear of the house (the imposing front door had been locked for many orbits, and Vstj never saw the point of opening such a grand portal just for himself) and fumble around for the master light switch. The motion detector switches which, in most Mlmln homes, would activate the lights upon the occupants’ return, had long since malfunctioned. Vstj would occasionally contemplate getting them fixed, but then decide not to bother; it was hardly a chore flicking on a switch.

As the lights flickered on, Vstj would always be greeted by the same sight. The lobby of his house was lined with holographic portraits of his deceased relatives. On one side, his father’s family; eminent scientists, every one of them, for as far back as the family could trace itself. There was Gfn, the master agri-geneticist, inventor of crop-growing techniques which had made famine a distant memory on Fnrr. Here sat Chlgf, astronomer and astral spectroscopy pioneer; his methods were used to determine the atomic composition of distant stars even to this day. Next to him there was Dfn-Shfr, creator of the intelligent responsive fabrics which almost everyone in Mlml wore, and so on and so on.

Facing the scientists from across the lobby, Vstj saw his mother’s family. Soldiers. Military leaders, generals, space admirals, defenders, champions. Legends. His own mother’s portrait hung at the far end of the lobby. As Vstj proceeded along the corridor, she would stare down at him with the same look of disappointment she’d always worn in his presence while she was alive. Vstj would avert his gaze and shuffle on.

Vstj would make himself something to eat; generally configuration 4 or 12. He wasn’t especially fond of configurations 4 or 12, but his protein manipulator was very old and had become jammed on those two settings. He knew it was time he replaced it, but it was a design classic, he would tell himself, and besides, there wasn’t anything actually wrong with configurations 4 and 12.

Vstj would then spend the rest of the evening going over some work on his slate, or perhaps reading the news, before swallowing a couple of rather strong sleep-inducing tablets and activating his sleep-well. He did this because once in his sleep-well, in the darkness, silence and weightlessness, he would be alone with his thoughts, and Vstj didn’t like his thoughts very much.

Tonight was different. Tonight Vstj’s pill bottle remained unopened. Tonight Vstj was content to remain conscious for a little while before drifting naturally off to sleep. He thought back to his conversation with the Ymn child. He’d helped, hadn’t he? He’d actually helped. He’d had a positive effect. He half wished his mother were still alive so he could tell her about it. Not that she would have been particularly impressed. The nation on the brink of war and here he was still shuffling numbers and fretting over budget projections. Well, maybe he’d show her. Maybe he’d never gone to war but now it looked like the war was coming to him. Maybe he’d finally have the chance to do something properly brave.

Wait, am I actually looking forward to this?
wondered Vstj.
What sort of a person does that make me?

Vstj’s last thought before dozing off was that perhaps he should have taken the pills after all.

T
erra had been looking forward to today. No Lyceum, and with work at the Life Science Hub temporarily suspended, she and Lbbp had planned a day of games. Tb-tb-tff and perhaps even dfsh, if she could persuade Lbbp to go out into the public gardens. Lbbp got embarrassed playing games in public; it was rather sweet, thought Terra.

She had a disappointment coming.

-
I’m sorry, Terra,
said Lbbp, switching off his comm.
They’ve convened an emergency debate at the Forum, and I’ve got to attend as part of the Preceptor’s advisory panel.

-
The Preceptor has an advisory panel?

-
He does now, and I’m on it. Listen, Terra,
Lbbp sat down, took both of Terra’s hands in his own and looked her in the eyes,
if there’s any chance of averting this war we’ve got to take it. The politicians will never figure it out; all they care about is what makes them look good. They’ve invited the Preceptor to speak before the Forum. If anybody can think of a way out of this it’s him, and if he says he needs me there I can’t turn him down. Do you understand?

-
I suppose,
said Terra sadly.

-
Good girl. Now look, I should be back before sleep-time; I’m sure you can find things to do with yourself until I get back. Play games on your slate, read some stories, hey, WRITE some stories, why not?
Lbbp got up to go. Terra had an idea.

-
I could come with you! I could come to the debate!

-
I really don’t think so, Terra,
said Lbbp, packing his slate into a bag.
It’s not the sort of thing you’d enjoy.

-
Why? Because I’m a stupid Ymn?
Terra surprised herself with her own anger. The conversation with Yshn had clearly upset her more than even she had realised.

Lbbp sighed, exasperated. -
No, because you’re only eight orbits old!

-
Fthfth’s eight orbits old, I bet she’s going,
retorted Terra.

-
I happen to know for a fact that she’s not,
said Lbbp over his shoulder as he strode towards the window.
Now stay put, get some food from the manipulator, I’ll be back before you know it.
And with that he opened the window, activated his bubble and floated off.

I bet they’d let Fthfth go if she wanted to,
thought Terra.
She’s the star pupil after all, and she’s not a stupid Ymn like me . . .

Oh terrific,
thought Terra crossly,
they’ve even got ME thinking it now.

Terra got up and stomped over to the table. She picked up her slate and started a game of one-player dks-wks but her enthusiasm failed her.

It’s not fair,
thought Terra.
They’ve all got this idea stuck in their heads that Ymns are dumb savages, but the only Ymn any of them has ever met is ME, and I’m not a dumb savage, am I? I’m as civilised as my friends, I’m as clever as my friends, I’m at least as polite as most of my friends . . . How not-dumb and not-savage do I have to be before people get over the idea that all Ymns are dumb savages?

She threw the slate down in frustration, and was immediately relieved to see it bounce harmlessly on the padded seat. Tantrums were all well and good but breaking her slate wouldn’t help. She picked it up and checked that it was still working.