Chapter Twelve;
Life on the Land

The clouds rolled down from the northwest, heavy and dark with the promise of rain. But it went without saying that they would not drop, their deep grey colour nothing other than a hopeful illusion. Cairns, and the surrounding areas, had long become as dry as the rest of Queensland, the rainforests dying out as they became little more than forests of dead ferns and palms burnt to their demise by the lack of canopy covering their fragile outer shells. The lands around Cairns, that were once green with forest and sugarcane, were now lumps of burnt brown and insects. The plague of insects that inhabited and engulfed the sugar fields hadn't spread to the city yet, but it wouldn't be long. And even now, a little after 2100 hours, it was stinking hot.

Glancing at the temperature gauge on the wall beside her, Kate McGregor sighed and took another mouthful of iced tea. Seated at the only pub facilities at HMAS Cairns, she was alone on the back porch and looking out at what was left of the world beyond the base. As she'd rightly predicted, the fighting from Sydney had begun to reach Queensland. While Brisbane hadn't fluttered into chaos yet, Cairns and Townsville were both under attack. It wasn't hard to figure out why; both cities held major Defence Force bases. The Defence Force was such an easy and obvious target for now, but the anarchy would spread. It was one of only two things the world could be assured of; death and anarchy. Usually they came together.

The back porch was empty, save for a small mynah that sat on the railing assessing a chip that had been left behind by another patron. Too close to the only moving figure there, the little bird just watched, looking at it longingly. Eventually, touched by the little thing, Kate picked up and the chip and tossed it onto a table nearby. The mynah flew down, scooped up the chip, and disappeared off into the night finally content. Kate just watched it go with the hint of a smile before she shifted in her chair once again turning her attention to the realm beyond. She almost smiled at the irony of what she was seeing in comparison to what she was hearing as over the pub's radio system came the sound of Bernard Fanning singing about togetherness. Every so often his voice was drowned out by a distance siren or a small explosion and Kate would give an ironic giggle, not humour but more pity for their (and her) own pathetic situations.

Whereas years ago she had been on the mend from a series of battles with Samaruans and coral hunters, she was once again facing the daunting prospect of death at her front door. In her thirties (she would never admit how old) she was now starting to feel well past the death and destruction trail she thought she'd left behind years before. Alas, here it was again. And now there was a more frightening reality – she was alone. Last time the Grim Reaper had come knocking she'd had a man who could handle everything by her side. But now there were none.

She almost smiled at the memory of Mike and her time on the Hammersley. Even now she couldn't imagine why she'd never wanted to change in the first place. Sure, the big ships were fun, but she knew long ago that she had never felt at home on them. She'd worked with people that lived and breathed the countless staircases and narrow hallways of the Adelaide and Anzac classes, but she was different. People that loved getting lost in the maze of room of the frigates and missile-class ships. But she'd never really been one of them. In fact, the only thing she had enjoyed about the big ships with that sense of animosity. That look on peoples faces when they met you in the halls. The glance at the lapels, one to the nametag, and then a smile. It wasn't recognition, it was courteous. And then the Hammersley. Everyone knew you and judged you. Or, Kate remembered with the hint of a smile, impersonated you. It was then that she realised why she'd liked the animosity of the big ships – because she didn't quite connect with that crew. This crew however, they were like family. That family she'd never really had as a child.

But then she remembered Mike and sighed. Where had that gone so outrageously wrong? When he finally took a promotion after much stress from Commander Marshall, they'd started something that they'd both waited so long to begin. But before it could even flourish it was over. And now she didn't know where he was, what he was doing, and whether there was… Well, she didn't dare think about 'someone else'. For so long it had been just them – Mike and Kate, Kate and Mike. It worked. At least, they thought it would.

Someone cleared their throat nearby and Kate turned quickly, snapped out of her thoughts. She saw the young man who spent most of his life behind the bar watching her with wide eyes. Kate frowned. "Yes?"

"Commander, you better hear this ma'am." The civilian said, surprising Kate with his scared tone. "Something really bad has happened."