The Lazarus War: Artefact (16 page)

Elena and I had been together for two years, while we both worked on the Sim Ops Programme. I was eventually transferred from Jefferson Research Facility to Azure. Astronomical designation Tau Centauri IV, Azure was home to Fort Rockwell – an Alliance Army facility, and the biggest extra-solar military base. It was to become the launching point for the Sim Ops Programme.

Elena had persistently petitioned for a transfer, to follow me out here. Finally, that request had been granted. She had been on Azure for a week but was quarantined to Arrivals the whole time, acclimatising to the gravity and lower atmospheric pressure.

I met her on the day of her release. Arrivals was something like a spaceport terminal – a sterile, ugly building; six storeys high, with tiny cubicles to house immigrants. I waited inside the terminal, in Post-Quarantine Citizen Processing. That was just as bland and pale as the rest of the facility – the only dashes of colour the Arab Freeworlds flag draped on one wall and the Alliance badge opposite. Other soldiers, of assorted military stripe, milled about the room – no doubt awaiting the arrival of loved ones.

Those came and went. People hugged around me. A bored-looking military clerk called names as each citizen was processed. I waited anxiously, eager for my turn. Awkward in my own skin. This wasn’t me.

“Marceau, Elena,” the clerk finally declared. “French citizen of the Alliance, indefinite leave to remain.”

She wandered through the plate-glass doors.

I paused for a moment, overwhelmed. It was difficult for me to process just how happy I was to see her.

Then Elena ran forward and flung her arms around me. Neither of us said anything: just embraced. I buried my head in her hair. Took her in: the warmth of her body, the smell of her. It had been three long months since we had last seen each other.

“Are you hungry?” I finally asked.

Elena nodded. “Very.”

“They have a refectory on base. We could go there now—”

“This place has no character,” Elena said, with a shrug. “It’s unpleasant. Could we go off-base for a while?”

It didn’t matter to me where we ate or what we did; Elena was here. That was enough for me.

“I know somewhere.”

We left the base, crossed the military checkpoints and the perimeter. Passing Rockwell security; irritated troopers in flak-jackets, wearing tactical helmets, red-faced in the persistent heat.

“Passes, people,” the guard said as we approached. “Biometrics or papers, doesn’t matter to me.”

He scanned the serial code on my inner wrist. Nodded to himself.

“What I wouldn’t give for a combat-suit and some proper air-con, eh?” he said, reading his scanner. It was clear that the comment wasn’t meant for us, and that this was a regular topic of conversation for security.

“Heck yeah,” the guard’s partner muttered.

The first guard waved us through. “Cleared for off-base interaction. Interpreters are available at the kiosk. Just make sure you’re back before twenty-two-hundred hours, and watch out for the base-rats. They bite.”

“Copy that,” I said.

Elena watched on in bemusement at the exchange, but I hurried her on through the checkpoint. Security-drones skimmed overhead, collecting on a group of children outside the perimeter fence: those were the base-rats the guard had been referring to.

We made our way through the bustling streets of downtown Azure City, through the civilian districts. Elena’s small hand held mine firmly as we pushed through the crowds. Walking at a slower pace so that Elena was comfortable. The shopping districts were packed.

We were hassled by traders at every turn. I confidently waved them off, but Elena was a little less certain. She paused to look at a gaudy trinket or listen to the banter of a wizened seller.

“They can tell that you have come straight out of quarantine,” I said. “You’re an easy target. How long do you have to wear that suit for?”

Elena wore a black bodysuit, tight to her slender figure, with a hydraulic frame on the arms and legs. She walked with a halting gait, not quite natural. The callipers allowed her body to adjust to the lower local gravity.

“This old thing?” Elena said, lifting an arm. She sighed and shook her head. “Hardly high fashion, is it? The medtechs advised two weeks. But we’ll see.”

“You mean that the medtechs
instructed
two weeks?”

Elena laughed and shrugged. “Like I said, we’ll see.”

“Tell me if you need a rest,” I said, gently squeezing her hand.

“I could perhaps sit for a while,” Elena replied, blushing. “The heat is a little oppressive.”

I knew Elena well enough that if she admitted she was in a little discomfort, it probably meant that she was in a lot. She was tough – tougher than me – and didn’t like to admit that she needed help or a break.

“We’ll be there soon. We need to get out of the midday heat – it’s sapping. You’ll learn to avoid the boulevard when the sun is at its peak. This is different to Earth. The Azure heat will knock you out if you don’t take cover.”

Elena looked up at the sky. It was a bright blue, cloudless in every direction; a heavy orange sun high overhead.

The café didn’t have a name – very few of them did, in this district – but I’d eaten there before and knew that the food was good. There were tables and chairs arranged outside a sandstone building, and we sat. I chose a spot in the shade of a woven awning, tattered and faded from constant exposure to sunlight. The café was quiet, occupied by a mixture of military personnel and a couple of local families.

I called over a waiter and ordered for us both. He disappeared into the shadowed interior of the café.

“This place is amazing,” Elena said. “It wasn’t what I was expecting.”

“What do you mean?”

“I thought that it would be more sterile. I didn’t think that it would be so much like
Earth
.”

I sometimes forgot that she hadn’t travelled like me. She had a cultured naivety, a candour that fascinated me.

“It isn’t like the Earth that I recognise,” I said, shaking my head. “But I know what you mean.”

The boulevard was lined with primitive buildings, cast from locally produced sandstone bricks and plaster. Across the street from us – nothing more than a beaten dirt track, worn by the tyres of heavy ground vehicles – dark-skinned men lounged in shaded open doorways. Some rocked on rusty metal chair-frames. Ancient two-D television sets blared from inside empty-windowed domiciles, volume turned up too high so that the audio became an angry crackle of static. Mothers chased down errant children – shouting rebukes in their mother-tongue.

“The first colonists here were Arabs,” I muttered. I wasn’t really interested in the background of the place, but I’d picked up some of the history during my posting. “The Freeworlds claimed it, back before they joined the Alliance, during the Second Space Race. Then the war with the Directorate started and it didn’t matter who owned it.”

“Who would think that such military might dwells in such beautiful surroundings?” Elena said, glancing about at the ancient buildings. “We might have squandered Earth but the cosmos still holds surprises for us.”

She smiled. Her perfect white teeth were cast brilliant in the sunlight. My gaze lingered on her face – oval, warm.

The waiter arrived at our table, sidling up with two bottles of beer and two plates of ersatz spiced-rice. He bowed, then disappeared back inside.

Elena hungrily devoured the food, spooning down mouthfuls. I did the same. It was hot and plentiful – brown rice, mixed with real spices and a repro-meat of some sort.

“I read that Azure is on a rationing system,” Elena said. “Will I need a chip?”

“The military are exempt. One of the perks of being Alliance Army.”

“Good,” Elena said. She tapped one of the bottles with a finger, and raised her eyebrow in surprise. “But a lager? Is it alcoholic?”

“Only weak. Why? Do you want me to order you something else?” I asked. I swigged back a mouthful of beer; the bottle was warm, and had been relabelled. Probably substituted for a cheaper brand, maybe locally produced. The indigenous population – indigs – certainly didn’t drink, but the military machine on Azure kept the alcohol trade alive.

Elena went to say something, but just then a squadron of Dragonfly gunships screamed overhead. Six ships in formation. Gun-pods stowed, missiles racked under each wing. Like their namesakes; fast and deadly. Their engines were loud and they flew low over the city; leaving white engine trails in the sky. Elena involuntarily flinched as they went.

“It’s okay,” I said. “Just running drills. They happen daily, several times sometimes. You’ll get used to them.”

I’d already grown accustomed to the constant air traffic. There was no fighting on Azure but there were regular manoeuvres.

“If the Sim Ops Programme takes off, then we might not need this martial force.”

“It will take off. I’m sure of it. You would not believe the things that I’ve seen. The things that I can do in one of those simulant bodies.” I shook my head. It was true: the early days of populating a simulant were like being born again. Such incredible feats of agility, of strength, of stamina.

“This is going to change everything. The next generation might find that there is no need for the regular foot soldier,” Elena went on. “Actually dying at war might become a thing of the past.”

“Let’s hope.”

“We’re part of something out here, Conrad. Part of something big.” She stopped eating, glanced out into the dusty street. She was smiling to herself. “We’re pioneers. If the Programme expands – there is no telling where it could go.”

“I’m just a soldier. I do what I’m told, go where I’m told.”

She nudged me in the arm. “You’re more than that. What about the promotion? Has Command approved you for full commissioned officer status?”

I chewed over a mouthful of rice, swilled it down with another swig of the warm beer. “I’m not sure about that. It’d mean commanding my own team.”

“You’re more than capable. I know you are.”

“Maybe. But let’s not talk military. You’re here, and we’re together. That’s enough for me.”

A gaggle of small children ran past us. Barefoot, dusky-skinned; wearing oversized frayed denim shorts and T-shirts emblazoned with logos for American corporations. They kicked a ball into the café, and I knocked it back out into the street.

“What do you say about making a contribution to the next generation?” I asked, pointing to the street children.

“What could you possibly mean?” Elena said, coyly. Her mouth seemed to shrink when she looked at me like that; a look that she only ever gave me. “You’ve got to make an honest woman of me yet.”

“So you want a marriage contract, is that it?”

“Maybe. Or maybe I want
you
to want a marriage contract.”

“But if I ask you, how do I know that you’ll say yes?”

“That’s for you to find out. A girl has to keep some of her secrets.”

“Last time we talked about this, you told me that it was too soon. And as I recall, we’ve talked about this a
lot
.”

“When you asked me before, we were on Jefferson Research Facility. Now you’re asking me on Azure. It makes a big difference.” She shrugged her small shoulders, as though her explanation made perfect sense and I was a fool for not understanding it.

“I don’t recall actually ever
asking
you – at least not directly.”

She pursed her lips, tutted to herself. It was all play-acting, of course, all part of her show. That was Elena. Theatrical, full of life.

“In any case, there would be things to do before you asked me. You’d need my father’s permission for a start.” She shook her head. “Christo bless him, he has never even left Earth.”

I winced, also light-heartedly. “So, let me get this straight: I have to travel back to Earth – cross however many light-years – go to France, and ask an old man for your hand in marriage? Your father is old, right?”

“Of course,” Elena replied. “He’s ninety-three objective years. And did I forget to mention that he doesn’t speak a word of Standard?”

“So I have to learn French as well. Then I ask you, and you may or may not accept. Then we get to have a hundred beautiful kids and settle down with a farm of our own on Azure?” I said, puffing out the last few words like I was out of breath.

Elena nodded knowingly. “That is exactly right. Surely you would cross light-years of time and space to be with me?”

“I’d cross the universe to be with you,” I said. “Truthfully.”

Elena leant into me, and we kissed. This was something deeper than the heart-flutter of a new relationship. I had never felt like this before. In that instant, staring into Elena’s eyes, I knew that I would never feel like this again. Her eyes were so wide, so deep. I was lost in them.

“Pretty lady! Pretty lady!” came a voice beside us. “You speak American Standard? You American tourist?”

A shadow fell across the table. A doubled-over old man, with skin like worn leather, stood over Elena and implored her to try some jewellery. He was dressed in colourful but stonewashed robes, and wore a cloth mask, his eyes peering out from a darkened face. He carried an oxygen tank on one shoulder and a water-cooler on the other. Over a knotted claw of a hand, the old man held out some necklaces and rings. He waved his hand and the jewellery clattered noisily.

“You buy pretty wife a necklace, Mr Soldier?” the old man asked, turning to me. He spoke broken American Standard, with a Middle Eastern lilt that could have been Egyptian or Iranian.

Elena inspected the jewellery. “Such beautiful handmade things.”

“They can tell you’re straight off the boat, Elena. You stop to talk to them.”

Elena was fascinated by the rings and reached in to touch one of them. It was an iridescent pink-silver, lined with tiny burnt orange gems. The hawker quickly took it from his hand and encouraged Elena to hold it.

“Finest Azure jewellery, only best for pretty lady. Made with original metals recovered from local area.”