Posted by Ensign Elemirre Serinde (Engineering Officer) in El - Short Leave on Earth

Posted by Ensign Elemirre Serinde (Engineering Officer) in El - Short Leave on Earth

Posted by Ensign Elemirre Serinde (Engineering Officer) in El - Short Leave on Earth
Somewhere in Mainland China ..

“What troubles you, Little Sparrow?”
“I am afraid.”
“What of?”
A pause. The nearby sound of bubbling water over rocks and bird song was calming. “Irrelevance.”
“Is your fear inhibiting your relevance? Fear prevents life. But neither can we cling tightly to our outcomes, for they are as the water passing by your feet. As much as we want to control them, it is illusion.”
“I should be able to do more.”
“You have ever looked beyond your sight, Little Sparrow, not at the path before you. Strides are only so long. You know your path. Remain there. Turn not to the left or the right. Do right to those you meet along the way. And have faith you will achieve your destination in time.”
“I am being pursued.”
“I am aware. Choose wisely how to live in that knowledge.”
“I try. I expect nothing. I anticipate everything. Is that not the way to live, Master?”
“Mindfulness is wisdom. Beware of anticipation. It is the mother of desire and anxiety; control is illusion. The world will ever move in ways outside of how we believe it will. Expect everything. Anticipate nothing.”
“My home is gone.”
“I have heard. I am sorry.”
“I have not lived there for a long time, yet I feel loss.”
“Where home is we may touch peace and be nourished, not in the state of the home but to touch that peace and joy that is within you. Go back. Find that peace. Long has your home been here. You know how.”
“Thank you Master Ko.”
“A message was left for you ..”

The next day .. Old Manticore District

The smell of charred timber, oils, seaweed and fish assailed El’s nostrils. She stood on an old metal hulk that had once been a barge. What had been built on it had been burned and she stood among blackened debris floating in some inches of sluggish water. So many similar vessels floated in what once had been Manticore. What had been a floating city of thousands of ships, derelicts and constructs was reduced to a few ailing vessels that soon would succumb to the water.
“They say it was deliberately set.” Meiling, El’s sister balanced on the wide edge of the barge, avoiding the murky water sloshing in the barge said it. El stood in it, uncaring of its cold and ‘ickiness’.
“Why?”
“Some say it was to cleanse the area of an unsightly smear,” Meiling said, her tone bitter. “Others say it was to chase out criminal elements, gangs, guilds, gamblers, the Blood Borne, the Wets, the Changed, others.” She sighed. “Some suggest an accident that spread. Many were killed. Much lost.”
“Home.” El said that in a flat voice, looking at the spot where their home ship was, the old tug.
“Home.”
Gulls cried overhead and both raised their faces to follow them. Were they real? Were they drones? Who could know?
“You won’t find it. That place is lost to us.” Meiling’s voice was flat. Cold. The breeze fluttered her long silk cloak that contrasted with El’s coarse robe.
“I have to try.”
“It’s dangerous. Sharks.”
El shrugged off her robe and handed it to her sister. “Nature is not an adversary. It is our partner in peace. When shark and man are separate there is danger, but when they are one there is no danger. What creature will attack itself?”
“Yeah, well, don’t become a one with lunch, sister.”
A moment later there was a splash as El dove into the cool waters.

• El, Eng

The trim young man stood on a rather plush decorative rug. The crackle of a fireplace was nearby and the scent of a legacy of port and cigars hung in the air like a ghost of centuries past. He stood, restless, looking at his father for the first time in months. He’d not before noticed the lines at his mouth and eyes and the near bald pate made him quite nervous when considering his own still lush hair. But they both had the same cleft chin and grey eyes and he couldn’t help but glance at the other paintings of other ‘Fawkes’ ancestors to see their eyes - and hair volume.

“Have you got it out of your system, Emerson? This .. space navy? Which, I hear, nearly resulted in being killed. I might remind you that you are my one heir.”
“I am following in the footsteps of our family,” Emerson replied.
“Yes, but in space? Is there not a Navy here to attend? And don’t get me started on your being a commoner there. People talk.”
The same tirade. “Father, I didn’t want to have a bought commission. Besides being an officer is no fun at all. I want to do things.”
“You can finish up this little tour of yours and ‘do’ things with the company.” He stepped in closer. His father was shorter and fleshier, his ‘trim’ lost in age and inactivity. When he spoke it was lower in volume but still intense. “Listen, Emerson, we are expanding operations in the asteroid belt, opening an mining R&D area there. Moreover our tech department is working on better AI and system redundancies for space flights. Your experience in this will push us even farther. We’ve partnered with a new Institute out of Japan. Advanced robotics. Between their robotics and our AI we can push the envelope and take the lead here.”
“Father, I ..”
“I know I said you could do your thing and return when you wanted. Things have changed. I need trusted and experienced eyes out there.”
He sighed and looked at the fireplace and the crackling logs. They were real. The sap spit as he looked and thought. He could sense his father had moved away, closer to the billiard table. When he looked he had the ivory cue ball in hand and was rolling it around in his fingers in thought. “A little longer, father.”
“How long?” came the immediate reply without looking at him.
He wanted to say that he was promised some years to spread his wings before engaging in the tedium of the family business. Emerson had a small glass of brandy in his hand and he looked at it and swirled it around before downing the remains of it. The fact was he didn’t want to do this. Yet. He knew he would need to at some point but he always felt that was many years distant. Now his world suddenly felt constricted.
“Emerson. Son.”
The tone caught him up short and he looked at his father.
“I have Hitchen’s Syndrome.”
Emerson gasped. As he looked he could see a slight quiver in his father’s hand. An early symptom. It was a rare disease, not yet curable, and it ran in the family. It was a derivative of Huntington’s Disease. That at least had had a cure now. “I ..”
He set the ball down on the table with care and slowly raised his hand. “It is in early stages. I still have years but my mental condition will degenerate.”
“Mother?”
“She knows. I needed to have this talk with you. Father to son. Look, Emerson.” He snorted, humored. “Yes, even with this I am concerned over appearances. Over your commission. It can .. help you later in life. But that is trivial, my own pet peeve. Do another tour. Take your time but, please, not too much time. There is much you need to learn of our business.” Emerson felt a pat on his back and a squeeze at his shoulder and the soft sound of retreating footsteps muffled by the carpet leaving Emerson with his thoughts and the soft crackling of the fire.
- Emerson, PO

Sasha opted to walk from the train that he had caught from the outlying space port that had once been on the outskirts of Moscow. Growth had slowly crept closer to it and was nudging against the ports northern side. It was a typical day in Moscow in April. Cloudy with a cold drizzle. To Sasha it felt invigorating and all the more so as he was dressed for it in a short rain jacket and regulation trousers which were, in themselves, rain resistant. Dodging pools of water along old sidewalks Sasha was eager to find his way home. Yes even old tenements were still home to him and he could. He carried with him a bag of ingredients that he had bought from the market that would make a soup he adored - Solyanka - spicy with lots of cabbage. After all what else was he going to do with the credits he earned over this past couple of months? His mother made that so tasty he could almost feel the burn on his taste buds now.

Rounding the corner of the boulevard Sasha looked up, expecting to see the twin tenements he had grown up around. One had been mostly abandoned even when he was a child. The other was poor housing but it was his. His and his mothers. And he stopped dead, the light rain pattering on the hood of his jacket. They were gone. A wide swath of green park was before him. So much for surprising his mother. But when did this happen? How? There was a gardener on the far side tending to what would become a large oval space that held some shrubs but had room for flowers about it to come. Making a beeline toward he came to the man. He bore a craggy hollowed face and had a cigarette jutting at a wide angle from the corner of his mouth. Sasha noted his eyebrows were particularly wide. He planted a muddied boot on the edge of his spade and pushed.

“We’re not taking new workers,” the man said, his voice distinctly unfriendly. It could be, Sasha thought, a matter of his working in this rain.
“I’m not looking for a job,” he replied. “I have a question.”
“Well, forgive me if I don’t applaud. I’ve got work to do. Maybe you could write a book around it.”
Sasha wiped away a dribble of rain that had slid down his nose. “I, uh, no. What happened here?”
“Nothing happens here. It’s Zapadnoe in Moscow.” The tone was rather matter of fact. Sasha thought he could see a glimpse of a bottle inside the man’s jacket.
“No, the buildings here. I gr..”
“Look kid, I’ve spaded this ground for two decades here. There ain’t been no buildings.”
“But ..”
“No buts, kid. Look move on. I’ve got to get this done and I’m not getting any drier if you catch my drift.”
“But ..”
“Follow the path there on your way out. Don’t mess my grass.”

Sasha peered at him for another few seconds then turned, utterly confused and moved off along the noted path, the bag of foodstuffs forgotten as he peered about. Could he have got his directions wrong? Was this the wrong block? Was it .. “Oomph,” he said as his boot caught on a stone. He stumbled forward then caught himself and looked to see what he had tripped on. It was a broken red brick. The color of the buildings. He tapped it with his toe, then, feeling suddenly wet and vulnerable, he left at a quicker pace. He was supposed to meet Elemirre at the Station and then to come for dinner. As he was thinking of what to do in the meantime as the meeting was hours away, Sasha didn’t note the gardener speaking into the lapel of his jacket.
- Sasha, NE

Later .. Sasha entered the Park Pobedy station, one of the deepest of the old subway stations in Moscow. It was at least dry from the persistent drizzle that had begun to dampen his spirits even more. He still clutched the bag of food he had though now even that was rather sodden. People shuffled by parting for him like he was Moses in their race to get out and get home while he was just entering. The sound of the footsteps felt amplified. The trains were no longer running on the track but over them magnetically so their sound was negligible. Chatter was simply one cacophony of sound, like a bird sanctuary or audience at an opera before the show began. He should introduce Elemirre to Russian opera; his own renditions were not bad but nothing like you’d see on a proper stage with proper acoustics.

He was supposed to meet her near a newstand. It was rather passe now but it was the only such shop at the station so it was a good choice for a rendezvous spot. Her time was limited and he wanted to give her a tour of his hometown, or home city. As he approached a small figure detached itself from the wall; she blended in in her creamy grey cloak. “Right on time,” he said, though wasn’t sure if it was or not. Unconsciously he looked for the antique clock that had held station for centuries. He wasn’t on time.
El shrugged her hood off. It showed residual spots of moisture and shook out her hair. Today it was loose. Had he ever seen it loose? He didn’t think so. “Hi Sasha,” she said, a rather small smile on her lips even if her glance was not entirely on him. “Who are your friends?”
Taken aback Sasha said, “Nobody. I came alone.” He looked around but didn’t see anything.
“Two guys followed you in. They’re at the newsstand now.”
He looked there. El sighed softly. “I don’t ..”
The two men in question put down what they were looking at and approached them. To El they looked like classic ‘G’ Men from old 1950 pulp magazine covers. Suits. Trench like coats. Hats, only in this case were (hopefully fake) fur Cossack style hats set them apart. “Hey, Sasha,” said one of them, lifting a hand in a friendly greeting. “You’re hard to catch.”
“How do you .. who are you?” Sasha asked.
“Lev. Lev Novikov.” A light lit up in Sasha’s eyes.
“Lev!” He turned to El. “This is Lev. We grew up in the same area. I’ve not seen you for what, 5, 7 years? But how ..”
“I was going back to work and saw you talking to Dimitri, the crazy gardener. At least I thought it was you. You’re still all arms and legs. After you moved off I asked Dimitri what he said.” He laughed. “He’s always going on in crazy stories. Said he told you that that park had been around for 20 years. Crazy.” At a look in Sasha’s face he held up a hand. “Hey, they did the park about 2 years back. The place was falling apart or had fallen apart but you know that. What residents there were were given a chit for another home in the North of the city. Look, there’s the coffee shop just over there. I can tell you more.”
Sasha looked in the direction and shrugged. “Sure. But what about your parents. My mamoyka.”
They were moving now through a tunnel with curved ceilings. Old like the rest of the place. “My parents moved off to Samara a few years ago. My father’s brother was there. He had just lost his wife so they moved to be close.” Just to the left ..
They turned left and it was a dead end .. Sasha turned. “Must have made a wrong turn,” he said but the two blocked the way. “Lev?”
“Your mother did say to not bother coming by.”
“But I talked to mamoyka ..” His voice stopped and he blinked. “What? How did you know? I wanted to surprise ..”
“You should have just stayed away, Sasha.”
“Why?”
“Always that question.”
“What?”
“That too.”
“Sasha!” El cried out even as she pushed him. He saw a flash of something electrical flash through where he had been just before he hit the wall. Then everything went dark.

“Sasha, wake up,” El said. “Come on.” Sasha groaned. He dimly saw Elemirre kneeling by him. “We’ve got to go.”
“Where’s Lev. What happened?” He was slowly regaining his wits but they were slow.
“Napping.”
“What?” He was pulled to his feet and as he leaned against the wall to steady himself he saw Lev and his companion on the ground. El had a firm grip on his arm and was pulling him. Following him docilely he stepped over the fallen duo and shortly out into the main arched corridor. “Wait, I dropped my food.”
“Leave it for them,” she said as she moved purposefully back toward the subway. It was almost like she had done this sort of thing before. Pulled along he didn’t say anything more until he was seated and the train moving. El sat across from him looking at him. Reaching out she wiped at his temple with a cloth; El always seemed to have a cloth with her. It came away smudged with dirt. She tucked it back away and sat looking at him with her elbows on her knees. She looked .. unflappable.
Then at the same time, both said, “What happened?” Then after a pause they both laughed - El a giggle and he a nervous explosion.
Then, as they traveled the train to the space port, Sasha told his story.
El and Sasha