Still Falling: Book 1: Solstice 31 Saga (21 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Freedom

“The Emergency Module knew far more about this culture than it conveyed. The data was considered
Not Conducive to Long Term Survival
. This analyst’s opinion is that if Barcus had truly known how cruel this culture was, he would have set the whole planet on fire.”

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

<<<>>>

Barcus awoke to the smell of bacon and sounds of the table being set for breakfast. He had slept in again. He was getting used to this. The flare of guilt was momentary, but it still hurt.

Clean clothes were laid out. Today, before he put on his belt with its knife sheath and array of pouches, he clipped on the holster for his .45 caseless handgun. Once it was on, he slid the large case from under the bed and unlocked it. He took out the gun and gave it a ready check. Confirming that it was fully loaded and ready to fire, he holstered it.

Next, he took out two twenty-round magazines and put them in a pouch on his left side.

Em said in his mind, “Good morning, Barcus. I’ll add firearms safety training for Po and Olias to the task list.” It made Barcus smile and shake his head. Plenty to do this winter.

He examined the rifle briefly before he closed the case and slid it back under the bed. Passing through the curtain, he could not believe what he saw - a wooden bowl with six eggs in it.

Po saw his stare and informed him, “The chickens Olias brought were already laying.” Then she began cracking the eggs into a ceramic bowl and scrambling them. There was already a mug of steaming tea poured. The bacon was sizzling in an odd pan that was like a cast iron wok hanging from three chains over the fire on the hook opposite the one the tea kettle occupied. She had a covered dish warming on the hearth to which she transferred the bacon. With a wood and cast iron tool clearly made for this very purpose, she expertly tipped up the pan, causing most of the bacon grease to flow into a crock on the shelf as if specially designed for the task. Swinging the pan back, she added diced onions to the hot grease and stirred for a minute. Then she poured in the eggs. The eggs cooked quickly and were then transferred to the warming dish with the bacon and taken to the table.

He realized he was staring. He sipped his tea.

“I believe you will want to see what Ash left in the kitchen pavilion for you after breakfast. I also started the fire in the bathroom so that while I am cleaning up you may have a bath if you like, my L...” It was the first time in days that she had almost said 'My Lord' to Barcus. Barcus was amused.

“What will you be doing today, Po?” Barcus asked, amused internally how it all seemed so domestic, as she began to tell him about sorting out the kitchens and how the firebox for the main oven was the heat source for the sink. She spoke of how much she loved the new wooden utensils, holding up her flat wooden spatula.

It was then when he realized one of the reasons he put Olias to the task of salvage. He tried to hold his smile but found it more difficult than he realized.

It was like they were robbing the graves of the people of Greenwarren.

“What's wrong? Did I say something wrong?” Po hadn't stopped talking as she served the eggs onto their plates. He realized his face had fallen.

“No. No.” She had set the bowl and spoon down and was clenching her apron in her hands, a gesture he had come to recognize. It was reflex. He reached for her and gathered her to him without getting up. She didn't resist. He had his arms around her, his cheek to her ribs. Her hands rested on his head. She began to pet him as if this happened all the time. Combing his hair with her fingers.

He was thinking of all his dead friends, all the murdered villagers, all the death.

They’re all dead and here I sit playing house,
Barcus thought to himself.

Po shook him back to reality.

“If I wanted to leave, would you let me go?” Po asked.

Barcus pulled back enough to look into her face. She didn't stop touching his hair.

“You can go anytime you want. Where would you go?” Barcus was confused.

“Do you like eggs? I should have asked.” She withdrew. It wasn't pulling away because Barcus offered no resistance.

“I love eggs. I have not had real eggs in five years.” Barcus smailed.

“I want you to stay.” He added it as a simple statement, expecting no reply.

He took some bacon from the covered dish. He was still shaken, more than he could admit to himself.

“We should have Olias look for seeds on this trip. We will need some for next season. We could buy some, but the nearest market village is probably more than a hundred miles from here. Below the gorge,” Po said casually. “With his next load, we will probably be okay with potatoes, but anything else will be harder,” she said.

A window opened on the wall by the door, with heritage seeds listed at the top. “Varieties?” listed below it.

“What kind of seeds?” Barcus prompted.

“Onions, carrots, sprouts, beans, corn, peas, beets, turnips, pumpkins, squash, anything really for the kitchen garden,” Po said as she served up. “Blueberries, gooseberries, and strawberries, plus melons. Herbs of all kinds. Sunflowers, lamp flowers and medicinals.” She was on a roll. “Peppers! Radishes and tomatoes. Wheat would be too hard without a mill that was near. But we have gold, apples and grapes so we could trade for flour.”

“Gold?” Barcus asked.

“Oh yes. Olias salvaged a lot of gold from those soldiers. There are a couple of chests in the small pantry. One for gold, one silver and one of copper. I can't move them anymore, either.”

As an aside, she said, “Women are not allowed to handle coins. But they do all the time. I never have.”

“I want you to stay. Please,” Barcus said quietly.

She put down her fork. She looked Barcus directly in the face.

“In my reading lesson last night, I learned how to read the word 'freedom.' It is a powerful, magical word,” Po said.

“Yes,” Barcus replied.

Her voice was shaking just a little as she asked, “I am free to do whatever I like? Even if you don't like it?”

“Yes,” he whispered. He realized his heart was racing.

She stood and walked to his side of the table. “Anything? Especially if you don't like it?”

“Yes,” Barcus admitted.
Please don’t leave.

She slowly went to her knees at his feet. She sat on her heels, never losing eye contact. Then slowly, she bowed until her chest was on her thighs. Both of her hands were clasped at the base of her spine, and finally her cheek rested on the top of his boot.

He was mortified. He took a deep breath to protest but thought better of it. “Yes. Even that,” came his pained whisper.

She spoke from his boot.

“Believe this, please. There will come a day when your only way to keep me safe is to allow me to be what I need to be. No matter what happens to me from this day to my grave, I know I will always be free. With you. Here. Like this.” She stayed another moment. Slowly she sat up and then stood. Surprising him again, she sat in his lap. She has a talent for working her way in.

“I'm sorry, Barcus. I want you to understand now.” She pointed to the floor. “I have done that thousands of times. That was the first time it was because I wanted to.”

He was looking at her mouth as she spoke. Her right hand came to rest on the back of his neck, her other hand caressed his bearded cheek. “This too.” And she kissed him. Warm and slow and soft. “Your mouth is so soft.” She kissed him again. His hands came to hold her. She looked at him and said, “I like freedom. I think it feels like the greatest magic of all.”

Barcus whispered, “My father always said, 'Freedom is a beautiful woman who I'd rather sleep within a pile of dung, than to sleep without her in a bed of silk...'“

“A wise man,” she said. She got up. He didn't stop her.

“Hey, my eggs are cold!” He finished them in one massive bite.

She stole his last piece of bacon as she said, “But your lap is warm.”

They both laughed.

They didn't know Em was watching from 32 angles.

***

Before Barcus went for a bath, he stopped in the kitchen pavilion to check out the crate Ash had collected. It wasn't big or complicated, but it did have two latches. It took a minute to free them up without breaking them, and when he did, the box creaked open. It contained five dark glass bottles. The bottles were a bit dirty, but the corks seemed to be intact.

Barcus was rinsing off the second bottle in the wonderful sink when Po came out with the dishes.

Did she just blush? He wondered.

“I'll do that, Barcus. You go get a bath.” She set the dishes in the long sink. “Would you like to try one with dinner? We’ll see if they are still good.”

“Sure, that would be nice.” As he walked by it, he saw a mark on the box. Burned in with a brand. It read Hermitage House in a round icon. The H's were stylized.

He made his way up and around to the bathroom, really noticing the amount of damage and trying to see the old structures as they were. When he got to the edge where he could see into the pond, he noticed the level had dropped drastically. It was now below the bottom edge of the concrete Redoubt. It was now obviously around the beam on the one end. It gave Barcus an idea.

“Em, see if you could find a way to get Pardosa in and out of there easily,” Barcus said.

The bath was wonderful as usual. Barcus knew he was thinking like a teenager when it concerned Po. He knew he would be unable to take advantage of her even if she did sleep in his bed. He had built a lot of trust quickly somehow. He didn't want to damage that. But he couldn't stop thinking of her gesture. Her test. He knew he was being tested.

To distract himself, he began to muse on the best way to cover the hole. Ash would cut down and bring in four trees to act as beams. A lattice of sapling pole would be laid across the beams. This would make it safer while keeping sufficient ventilation to dry it out. The large beams would have to be brought in before the rubble was removed.

When his bath was over, he dried himself off. The towels were new and thick. He hung the towel on the peg made of beautifully carved wood and got dressed.

He was planning an assessment of the salvage. His talk about the gold and silver made him realize he didn't really know what was there. Browsing the lists relied on Ash to label the items.

When he came out of the bath suite, the sun had come out, cutting through the gray. He stood looking into the Redoubt, marveling at the rate of drainage.

Barcus adjusted his belt and robe to make the holster comfortable. He made his way back around the collapsed dorms and found the set of stairs that went to the top of the wall on the north end toward the main tower. There, all four stories opened to the weather on this side because of that mysterious blast. There was even a basement level here exposed. He had not noticed it before. The receding water had exposed them again.

The top of the wall was not made of foamcrete. It was cut blocks and field stone. He wondered if the battlements were an aesthetic choice or an actual practical design.

Standing on top of the western wall, he looked back at The Abbey from about thirty meters from the tower. He could see into many of the inner courtyards from here.

“Em, can I please see an augmented view of how The Abbey looked before the explosion?” he requested.

A transparent overlay filled in the ruins. It became more opaque as it filled in. The rubble was removed and replaced by well-trimmed grass and a few apple trees.

“Why would they cover the opening to the Redoubt below?” he asked.

“Maybe they wanted to hide it from satellites above. That would also explain the types of trees that were planted inside the walls. Good cover,” Em replied.

“Or maybe...they needed a support structure for the Redoubt’s main elevator. Look at the wall supports. They would take a lot of stress,” Barcus suggested.

“A mechanical elevator?” Em asked.

“Why not? It looks like they could have stored a lot of cargo down there. That central shaft is thirty meters across,” he said.

“27.432 meters across,” Em corrected.

“Start a low priority project, Em. Rebuilding the structure AND an elevator. I have to check something.”

Barcus walked around the walkway toward the main tower. He was noticing blast damage. There was less here, but it was still evident. He entered the tower via a doorway that led directly onto the wall walkway. He could see that the hinges had been torn away.

The room was large and mostly empty. It was fifteen meters by thirty, he estimated. A similar doorway led out to the west wall. In the center of the room was the huge pulley and gear system that was designed to raise the portcullis in the area below. Damage was evident on one side and the thick, iron bound, portcullis was down to stay. He took the circular staircase down, lighting his way with the light from his multi-tool.