Chapter Twenty Five

Consequence

The taunting light of the false dawn is teasing the sky as Reilly looks up from the watchtower with a wide yawn. Much as she loathes night watches, the arrival of the new day almost makes it worth it. Leaning out over the railings, she frowns at the sound of a distant engine, her eyes flitting from side to side as she seeks out the source of the unexpected sound. Is it a rhino? It shouldn't be - there aren't any out of the compound…

Oh no…they're coming…

She straightens up, spots lights, and then relaxes. If the Phoenix Soldiers were attacking, then they sure as hell wouldn't be doing it in a single vehicle. But it must be one of their vehicles - all Terra Nova's rhinos are currently parked in the Compound's garage. Snatching up her distance viewer, she switches to night vision - if she's careful she'll manage to avoid catching the lights in it - and carefully focuses on the approaching rhino, "Unscheduled vehicle approaching!" she calls, just in case she's the only one who's noticed. Beside her, someone is already readying the sonic cannon, "Wait until I get an ID."

It's difficult to see into the cab, as the louvres grant her nothing more than tiny slits, while the vehicle bounces wildly as it barrels along the approach drive at speed. God above, are they going to ram the gates? She tries again, resting her elbows on the railing to steady her hands…

"It's the Commander! Open the gates!"

She hears the sound of the servos kicking into life, which doesn't quite drown out the sound of the rhino's engine giving out. The gate is just open enough to admit it as it coasts in on its momentum alone. Scrambling down the ladder, she wrenches open the passenger door, only to find herself confronted with Mira.

"What?"

Taylor leans around his passenger, "Get a medical team! Now! We have Malcolm and he needs attention! Move!"

She needs no additional prompt, and is hastily radioing as she hurries around to the rear of the vehicle. Jim has already booted the door open, "Get Elisabeth here!"

"She's already coming, Mr Shannon - she's the medic on call tonight."

In minutes, a team is approaching, gear in hand and Elisabeth running on ahead, "Jim? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine - we all are. It's Malcolm. He's out. Might be heatstroke - we've done what we can to cool him down; but it's not looking good."

"I'll be the judge of that, Jim." She turns to her team and, as always, begins delivering orders with brisk efficiency while she burrows into a bag for a cannula, then grabs at Malcolm's hand, and slaps the back of it a few times to raise a vein, "Go get Max." She looks up at him, "Take her to my office. I'll let her in when he's stable. Not before - he's critical at the moment, and I can't have her in there with us."

"On it."

Leaving the medics to their work, he abandons the rhino, and the crowd of early-bird stallholders that it's attracted like a magnet, and jogs hastily through the residential area until he reaches Yseult's darkened house. Not wishing to freak her out by using his override, he hammers on the door.

After about five minutes, the living room light comes on, and she is at the door, looking dishevelled and bleary - but only for a moment; the sight of Jim is all that she needs.

"Go get dressed." He tells her, firmly, "Elisabeth won't let you in until he's stable, so there's no point in rushing. If we do need to rush, she'll call me."

"Is he injured?" she asks, a little desperately.

"Just heat and dehydration; no wounds that we know of. I'll wait in the lounge. Go and get dressed, okay?"

She nods, and rushes back into the bedroom.

In less than five minutes, she is back, hastily dressed in yesterday's clothes, her sleep-tousled hair bundled back into a messy ponytail, "Just get me to the infirmary, Jim."

"She won't let you in to see him yet, Max. He needs to be stabilised."

"I know that - but I need to be there."

"Come on then." He ushers her out.

As she promised, Elisabeth has effectively blocked all access to Malcolm while she and her team work on him. With no means of reaching him, Yseult is obliged to wait in Elisabeth's office, where she paces back and forth like a caged animal, her eyes agonised, "What happened, Jim, why did it take so long to get him?"

"We weren't in time to rescue him from Robert Stanley. Someone else got there first."

"Who?" she pauses, and looks at him, confused.

"Believe it or not, it was Lucas Taylor."

"Commander Taylor's son?"

He nods, "The very same. He took advantage of the opportunity, and escorted Malcolm out to the Phoenix Encampment which was, as Mira promised, on its last legs."

"Why there? Didn't someone say that there was something found out there?"

So rumours have got out then. No surprise, really, "Kind of." He admits, "It's classified. Let's just say that Lucas got it into his head that he could do the impossible, and retrieved Malcolm to mend the terminus that he blew up."

"What happened then?"

"Everything kind of went to hell." Jim admits, "The camp was dying out - their rations were mostly gone, they had almost no means of getting water after the Sixers abandoned them. Their commander kept them there because he believed that Lucas would get them out of there through a time fracture. But he couldn't."

"And they nearly killed him trying to make him repair the terminus?" Yseult asks, quietly.

"I don't know all the details - that's something that we'll have to get from Malcolm when he's ready - but he was unconscious when we got to him."

She sighs, and resumes her pacing.

"Sit down, Max." Jim suggests, quietly.

"I can't."

He tries a different tack, "Well, if you can't sit down, perhaps you could answer a few questions?"

"About what?" she turns to him, her eyes angry.

"Nothing bad - or at least I don't think it is." His expression friendly, he indicates a chair again, and this time she consents to sit.

"What do you want to know?"

"This is gonna sound a bit weird, but, while we were at the Phoenix camp, Malcolm started hallucinating - or, at least, I think that's what it was. He was talking to me in a Scottish accent. Have you any idea why he might do that?"

"Of course I do." She says, very quietly, "He is Scottish - or, at least, he was."

"Was?" Jim asks, bemused.

"He had to take English citizenship when he and his mother crossed the border - otherwise he wouldn't have been able to go to school, or stay in England, for that matter. By the time they fled Scotland, full English citizenship was only available to blood relatives. Marriage wasn't enough - I only received a Spouse Residency Card."

"Okay - now I'm really confused. Malcolm fled Scotland? Why would he do that?"

"Do you know who his father was?"

"No. I don't know anything much about him other than he once dated my wife."

"Duncan Wallace?"

Jim stares at her, "The Duncan Wallace?"

"That's pretty much what I said to him."

"That explains a lot." Jim admits, "He once mentioned something about his father and the Edinburgh Hearings. I had no idea that his father was that famous."

She nods, "One of the best known Human Rights advocates in the world, and a vocal democracy campaigner. The Internal Security Committee couldn't wait to get him out of the way - he wasn't actively speaking out against them, but he was something of a figurehead for those who were, so they found him guilty of sedition, largely by association, and sent him to prison - he died there."

"Is that why Malcolm left Scotland?"

"Partly - but mostly because his mother was dismissed from her job after his indictment and imprisonment, and they couldn't afford to stay in their house. It was a choice between remaining in Scotland and being reduced to poverty, or leaving and going to some relatives of his Mother's who were English. That's what she chose to do."

"But I thought he went to a posh school?"

"He did - but he had to do it on a full scholarship. His mother couldn't afford to send him - it's only because he was so bright that he managed to get in. Otherwise he would've been crushed to nothing in a state school."

"I guess that must've been where he lost the accent, then?"

She nods, "He deliberately suppressed it. He would've stuck out, and no one really wants to at that age, so he re-trained himself to speak with the accent you know him for."

"He did it pretty damn well - I've never heard it slip, not even when he's really shouting."

"He did." She agrees, "I shouldn't really have told you that. It was something he told me in confidence."

"I promise it'll never leave these walls."

"Is he going to die?" she asks, suddenly, painfully. Without a word, he catches her in a warm hug.

"After the work we put in to getting him out of there? He wouldn't dare."

An hour and a half have passed, with conversation long dead, and Yseult pacing again, "How much longer? It can't be taking this long to stabilise him, can it?"

"I'm not a doctor, Max. I don't know how bad it got out there."

And then, at last, the door opens to reveal Elisabeth. She looks tired, but relieved, "He's stable, Max. It was touch and go for a while, but there's no irreversible damage. I'm afraid he's still unconscious, but you can come through now. With a bit of luck, he won't be out as long as he was before - we've not put him in a coma."

Her expression is one of such desperate longing to see him that Elisabeth quickly stands aside and lets her pass, "You'll know where to go - he's in the same bed he was in after he was stung by the scorpion. Don't be alarmed by the drips, we're still rehydrating him."

Yseult nods, and hastens away.

"Will he make it?" Jim asks, quietly, "I don't think she could handle it if he doesn't."

"I don't know for sure at the moment." Elisabeth admits, accepting his embrace, "We've done what we can - the rest of it's up to him, now. Having Max at his side will probably help, though. She's devoted to him, and vice versa. If anyone can bring him back, she can."

"It was Lucas again."

"Lucas?" Elisabeth groans, softly, "Why is it that, just when we feel we're safe and settled, he reappears to spoil it?"

"He won't do it again." Jim admits, "Taylor killed him."

"Oh dear…poor man. That must be the worst thing in the world." Her arms tighten about him, "How did it happen?"

"Lucas tried to shoot him - but the pistol was out of charge. He couldn't shoot him back - I think it was because Lucas was trying to make him do it, so he refused to give him what he wanted. He charged him with that machete thing that Max made - and impaled himself on her sword; so I guess it's something akin to poetic justice. He nearly killed Malcolm, and Max's weapon ended up killing him."

"It doesn't make it any less of a tragedy, though."

Jim sighs, "No. It doesn't."

At least there are no machines this time, no ventilator, no eyes taped shut. To a casual observer, he might well be sleeping. Sitting down at the bedside, Yseult stares into his face, imprinting every detail of his features into her memory. He's only been gone five days or so - less than a week, for sure; but it feels as though a lifetime has passed since she saw him last. The man who tried to kill him is dead; and the man who stole him from her is also gone. It's over - and he's home; but whether or not he has come through it unscathed remains to be seen.

"You're home, Malcolm," she whispers to him, "You're back with people who love you again. It's over. Come back to me."

She has his left hand in hers, and she tousles his hair gently with her right, "When you're awake, we can decide where we're going to go to celebrate your safe return, and I'm going to get you to sign a contract that you'll never go OTG ever again. Okay?"

"Okay. I promise." His voice is weak, and hoarse, but the intensity of his eyes as they look at her is stronger than anything he could put into words. He has spent a week forcing himself to avoid thinking about this, for fear of what it would do to him, but he is here - in the infirmary, and she's beside him, just as he hoped, "I'm sorry…I shouldn't have gone."

She holds his gaze, her eyes filling with tears, "I love you. More than I could ever hope to express - if there's nothing else in this life, then there's that. I love you."

He doesn't answer, but his expression says everything for him.

"He's awake?" Elisabeth is at the foot of the bed.

Yseult turns to her, and nods, tearfully, then turns back to him, "He was…"

Elisabeth checks the monitors, and then takes Malcolm's pulse, "Don't worry - he's likely to do that a lot over the next couple of days. It's a combination of exhaustion and the residual effects of dehydration. Everything's looking on course at the moment - but I feel I should warn you that he's not out of the woods yet. We need to be prepared for him to deteriorate; there's no telling what damage the heat did to him - it could go from nothing at all to a spate of organ failures. I just can't tell you at the moment."

"Just don't make me leave him. That's all I ask."

"I won't - but it's going to be a longer haul than it was with the scorpion sting, Max. Plus we don't know what happened to him while he was gone. It could get rough over the next few weeks."

"Then we'll help him through it, won't we?"

Elisabeth smiles, and takes hold of Malcolm's free hand, "Yes. We will."

The sun has risen, and climbed rather high as Jim emerges into the marketplace. The news has long since got out that they're back, though fortunately no one knows much more than that. He certainly can't hear the word 'Lucas' anywhere. The rhino has been towed away to the workshops, where they'll sandblast off that damned Phoenix crest, and repaint it. He is not surprised to find that Taylor is also nowhere to be seen.

Mira, on the other hand, remains seated on a low wall, resolutely ignoring the curious, and in some cases hostile, stares from the people who are arriving to do their daily shopping. Her capacity for statuesque inscrutability is quite extraordinary; despite his misgivings about her, Jim can't help but admire her for it.

"Any news?" She asks, with rather more interest than he would have expected from someone who thinks that Malcolm is a weakling and something of a joke.

"He's stable." He reports, "He regained consciousness briefly, but he's out again now. Elisabeth said it's nothing out of the ordinary - he's probably tired as much as anything else."

"I take it his…metalworker is with him?"

"Her name's Yseult, Mira."

She nods, "A name with two meanings, then. 'Beautiful' and 'Ruler of Ice'. One Celtic, the other Germanic." She looks at him as he stares at her, "I'm not just an unwashed survivalist, you know."

He blinks and pulls himself together, "I think Malcolm would agree with the first one. He's devoted to her."

"Then he's fortunate. More than some; besides, that's what'll get him through this. I have no doubt that Lucas was as unpleasant to him as the Botanist was."

"You still owe me an inventory." He adds, quietly.

"I do indeed. Where's Taylor? I assume he has no intention of going back on our agreement?"

"I guess a lot of it depends on Malcolm's recovery - but given that he's in the infirmary and getting the best care possible, it's a fair bet that he'll make it at least most of the way back if not all. Give Taylor time - he's got a lot to process right now. What he did won't be easy to deal with." He fumbles in his jacket, and hands over his comm unit, "Take this. Once I know what the situation is with Taylor, I'll contact you. We won't go back on the agreement - but I have to ask you to be patient."

She nods, "I understand." She pauses as she turns to go, "He probably won't accept them, but please pass him my condolences. It had to be done, but that doesn't make it any easier."

Jim sighs, and nods in turn, "I'll tell him. Thank you, Mira. For your help - we couldn't have done it without you. Much as I hate to admit it."

"I'm sure you do." For a moment, there's the briefest flicker of a smile, before she turns and departs.

"Guzman." Jim calls as they lower the gate behind her.

"Mr Shannon?" He comes over at Jim's beckoning.

"Over here." He guides his head of security to a quiet corner, "I need you to take a crew out to the Phoenix Encampment as soon as you can get prepped and out of here. You'll need to retrieve our Rover from the edge of the forest - we can go get Malcolm's in a few days - and I need you to check for survivors at the camp. We left eight people out there with water and supplies, check that they're still with us and bring back the survivors. If you find a parang lying about, retrieve that, too."

"Sir."

"And one more thing - this is really important. When you get out there, you should find the body of Lucas Taylor. I want that brought back. If there are any other corpses out there, bury them. Lucas comes back."

"On it, Sir. We'll depart in an hour."

Leaving Guzman to organise the rescue party, Jim looks up at the Command Centre. The doors are closed, the blinds down. He sighs: That's where Taylor's gone.

Mounting the steps, he doesn't bother to knock, but instead quietly opens a door and looks in. Yes - he's there: seated at his desk and staring off into space. The sword is back on the wall, but otherwise, it seems that Taylor has come in here, and not moved since.

"How's Malcolm?"

"Elisabeth says he's stable - drifting in and out of consciousness a little - but she reckons he'll pull through. Max is with him."

"That's good. Having her at his side'll be better than anything Elisabeth can do."

"I've sent Guzman out to bring back survivors." Jim adds, tentatively, "And…Lucas…"

Taylor doesn't answer, but remains very still.

"It seemed the right thing to do." Jim adds.

"I'm still not sure if I meant do to it." Taylor says, after an unnervingly long pause, "I don't know if the sword was there because it just happened to be - or if I put it there."

"I guess, in the end, it doesn't really make much difference." Jim sighs, taking a seat, "We had to stop this - it would've been the best outcome if we could've got through to him…"

"That would never've happened." Taylor admits, "The boy was lost to me a long time ago; even after what he did to us - and what he did to me - I just wouldn't see it."

"You're his father, Taylor. Why would you? If it'd been me, and Lucas had been Josh, then I don't think I could've done any differently from you."

"Perhaps."

"Look - Guzman is going to bring him back, so at least you can give him a decent funeral. It might not be the reconciliation that would've made the whole thing we did into a fairy tale - but even if we couldn't bring him home alive, we can still bring him home."

Taylor sighs, then looks up, "At least it's over now. Whatever happens, he can't come at us again. God, I'm glad Ayani wasn't here to see this. Betrayed by our own son - to the point of mass murder."

"Murder?" Jim stares at him, aghast at such a strong description.

"He went out into the badlands with, what, nearly a hundred people? And we left there with only eight of them still alive. All he had to do was admit he'd failed, and we'd have a more diverse population."

"They would've hated it here."

"Perhaps - but they'd be alive, wouldn't they?"

"That's the joy of hindsight being 20/20, Taylor. They did what they did, and forced us to do what we had to do. It's over now - the threat from the future's gone. Given the amount of money involved, what're the chances of anyone firing up a portal in the near future? If ever again? Chances are that we'll be left alone to build that new world you've been dreaming of."

Taylor nods, then frowns, "Is Mira still here?"

"No - she's gone back to her group. I've given her a comm unit to let her know what we decide. She asked me to pass on her condolences."

To his surprise, Taylor does not scoff at this news, instead he nods, "Call her. Tell her she's in."

"On it." He rises to his feet.

"Shannon." Taylor looks up at him, "Thank you."

"Vehicles approaching! They're ours!" the voice calls down.

"Open the gates!" Jim calls up. He's not been waiting for those, but the group of people approaching on foot are expected. There are twenty of them left - a ragtag band of survivors - and they follow Mira with various expressions of apprehension or resentment, depending on how keen they are to return to the colony they abandoned and betrayed.

Mira stands aside to allow the vehicles to pass. Unlike her crew, she knows what they're carrying. As soon as they're in, they continue their walk, and Jim greets them, "I'd say 'welcome back', but I think that's going to go down like the proverbial lead balloon."

"I have the staff manifest you asked for."

"Great. I'm afraid I have to deal with Guzman. Reilly here will escort you to your new quarters."

"Quarters?" Mira asks, her expression becoming hostile again.

"Proper houses: don't worry, we're not sending you to the brig. Get your team settled, I'll meet with you at fifteen hundred hours to go over your manifest so we can start matching people into jobs."

The hostility diminishes. Nodding curtly, Mira consents to follow Reilly away from the Marketplace and a multitude of staring eyes.

Guzman has, sensibly, driven the rhino through to the garages, along with the retrieved rover, "I've got another team bringing Malcolm's back - they should be here in the next hour."

"Good. Saves sending people out again."

"How is he, by the way?"

"Malcolm? Doing well - he's awake more now, and starting to get snarky, so we know he's getting better."

"Yseult must be relieved."

"And how. Elisabeth's still tripping over her. How many people did you get?"

Guzman sighs, "There were three left. They fought each other over the supplies. I found that parang, it's in the rover. The…body is bagged up and ready to be prepared for burial - though it's pretty decomposed, I'm afraid. It was hot out there."

"So I can smell." Jim says, wrinkling his nose.

"You're looking so much better." Elisabeth observes, with a slightly brittle edge to her voice, "But if you carry on complaining about being stuck in here, then I promise your next set of meds is going to include a sedative."

"I just want to go home." Malcolm admits, though the edge of complaint has faded from his tone, and he looks rather forlorn.

"I get that - but you're not well enough. Not yet - your right kidney needs more time to regain its full function. I don't want to send you home only to have to rush you back and take it out."

"Where's Max?" he asks, nervously, suddenly realising that the two of them are alone.

"I sent her home. She's tired and she needs to rest. She did ask me to leave you that toy cat - apparently it's the thing she treasures most in the world after you." She points at the bed-side cabinet.

He turns, and a faint smile plays across his mouth, "That's Schmidt."

"Ah, I see."

"You do?" Malcolm asks, bemused.

Something that Pete, her woodsman, said when I was visiting her while you were…away." She doesn't like to use the words 'missing' or 'a captive'.

"Will she be gone long?" He is nervous again. It seems to her that he has a lot invested in Yseult being around him; he's almost certainly not as 'recovered' as he'd like to think. She'll probably need to be prepared for a meltdown of some sort before he's out of the infirmary.

"I don't know, to be honest." Elisabeth admits, "I don't think it's likely - she wants to be here as much as you want her to be here."

She leaves him in peace, though he seems to go dreadfully tense as he realises that he's being left on his own. Later, though, when she checks in on him again, he's asleep. And he's cuddling the cat.

"God of mercy, we acknowledge that we are all sinners. We turn from the wrong that we have thought and said and done, and are mindful of all that we have failed to do…"

The words of the Chaplain echo back from the leaves of the trees at the far end of Memorial Field - well away from the resting places of the other colonists. Standing alone at the graveside, Taylor listens quietly, but speaks only when an answer is required from him by the order of service.

"We have entrusted our brother Lucas to God's mercy, and we now commit his body to the ground: earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust…"

Could he have done more? Could he have saved the boy? Perhaps; perhaps not. But now he'll never know. The only certainty that he has is the knowledge that his son can never threaten the colony again.

And then it's over. His expression solemn, the Chaplain speaks the Nunc Dimittis, "Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, according to thy word; for mine eyes have seen thy salvation…"

He stands over the open grave, and eyes the body-bag at the bottom. It was hard to do it, but he needed to be sure - so he opened it and looked upon the bloated, blackening features of his son, decomposed by the dreadful heat of the badlands. So many people died for his dream - a dream in which he longed to bring down the dream of his father. And for what? Revenge?

I'm sorry Ayani. I know I keep on saying it, but I am. I failed him - and in failing him, I failed you. Look after him for me, will you?

His eyes sad, he withdraws. There are no tears - the time for tears long gone. Instead, he walks away, and allows the burial party to fill in the grave. Once the earth has settled, the stonecutter who incised the letters on the memorial for those who died in the occupation will create a simple marker to show where Lucas lies.

Perhaps, eventually, he'll find it in himself to visit that grave like he visits Alicia's, but he suspects, with a heavy heart, that he shan't.