A/N: Thank you for your reviews, Leona and Hossfan - yes, it was a pretty convenient infestation, wasn't it? Now, of course, they have to see if they can get it to move on before they have no harvest left. No need to apologise, Hossfan - much as reviews warm the proverbial cockles of my heart, they're not obligatory. The important thing is that you're enjoying it, and thus my work here is done!
I was very keen to make Mira a more sympathetic character: given that much of her betrayal was forced from her through the use of her daughter as a bargaining chip, I thought it would be nice to free her from that burden. While the grief of her loss will never go away - she's a strong woman, and she's getting on with life; or, at least, she was until the last chapter. But has she made it? Wait and see...
Chapter Twenty-Two
Homeward Bound
It's chaos in the marketplace as Jim and Guzman pull up. People manning the vegetable stalls are frantically trying to stop whopper insects from chowing down on their stock, while others are fleeing for shelter, as the creatures are so numerous that it's impossible not to be hit by them, and there are lots of spines on those long legs. Injuries aren't major, as the locusts aren't the size of cows, but they'll still give a robin a run for its money.
The Command Centre is conspicuous by the degree of desertion around it. The men who one might, at one's most optimistic, refer to as 'guards' have fled with everyone else, while the new 'senior staff' seem to be hiding inside, as the doors are closed and all of the shutters are very thoroughly down. At least no one seems to have weapons at the moment.
"C'mon." Jim takes the steps two at a time, eager to get upstairs and inside, as he is being bashed by insects just as much as anyone else. The only good thing is that they're not as big as those nasty pterosaurs, or as aggressive. Their danger is their appetite, not their temperament. He doesn't need to look behind him to know that Guzman is in his immediate wake.
Bursting in though the doors, he can see that everyone present knows precisely nothing about what to do. Most of them are squabbling pathetically amongst themselves, seasoning their discourse liberally with swear-words as their tempers grow ever shorter. Only one - Thackeray, if Jim remembers rightly - seems to be attempting to actually do something, shouting down a comm unit, "Jackson! Where the hell are you? What do we do? Pick up, for God's sake!"
A quick scan of the room reveals precisely zero weaponry, other than the ornamental sword on the wall that Yseult presented to Taylor after her first husband died. If there are guns outside the weapons store, then there are none here, "Everybody, SHUT UP!"
To his surprise, they listen to him, and he has their attention at once, "Forget Jackson - he's out of it. What are you gonna do about this?"
They are all staring at him, then at each other. So, despite his apparent retention of a senior team, Jackson was no more willing to share power than Parker by the look of it - and none of them can do anything without his authorisation. Not that they seem able to do anything even if they had it. Most of them pick fruit, for God's sake - what do they know about the pest control protocols? Do they even know what those protocols are beyond sounding one of the many alarm posts in the fields and making for the nearest vented shed? He might not know the details, but at least he knows that Chris is the one to order into action. Do these guys?
"What're you looking at me for? You're in charge now, not me. What are you gonna do? I can't do anything - you made that pretty damn clear. I'll do what you want me to do - but I need orders. What're you gonna do?"
If matters weren't so urgent, he'd be enjoying this. He might not know how to avert a locust infestation, but he knows who to ask, and who to trust to do it - that's the point of having a chain of command. These guys don't have one, and now they don't have any plan to fall back on. Did they really think that leading this colony was all about sitting back and letting the place run itself?
Not that it matters - those protocols are already being enacted; but these guys don't need to know that. What he needs them to do now is freak out and dump the mess back in his hands again - then he can get on with clearing it up. Surely they're not stupid enough to want to hang on to the illusion of control even in the face of losing an entire years' food crops…
Again, it's Thackeray that takes the initiative, "Forget it - I don't know what to do. You're senior staff - you know what to do, right?"
"I might." Jim says, with a maddeningly noncommittal expression.
"We gotta stop those locusts," he continues, "but I don't know who's in charge of doing that…someone must be."
"Has anyone actually bothered to find out?"
Silence.
"Then get the hell out of my way and let me deal with it. We're senior staff for a reason - if you lot'd bothered to get your heads out of your backsides for even a minute, you'd realise it. Just give me back command, Thackeray. The sooner you do it, the sooner we can drive off these insects and save next year's food."
This is what he's best at - not politics, not people talking about 'groupthink' or 'the petty bourgeoisie' or any of that nonsense; it's this - dealing with trouble, facing a crisis and overcoming it at the head of a knowledgeable team. He just needs them to see it - and step down. If he overrules them, then Jackson'll almost certainly try to use that against him. The last thing he wants is to avert a crisis and be rewarded with an extended stay in the brig.
For such a simple decision, they seem to take ages, but finally Thackeray speaks for them again, "Okay - do it. We're out of here."
That's all he needs, "Right, the lot of you, get out to the market place and get people under cover. Now. Guzman, go check what's happening out there. He snatches the comm unit from Thackeray, "Chris, Jim here. Are you set?"
Almost. We need to get the right compound distributed to the cannons - Diane's setting that up now. Max is organising the evacuation of the fields - most people are trying to drive the bastards off by waving plastic sheeting for as long as they can. The sirens'll go off in the next two minutes.
"Will we be affected in the Marketplace?"
You shouldn't be. Max asked me to ask you to get Jackson out of her house. The wind's blowing away from you, so if you want to send Guzman over to arrest him, she'd be very happy.
"I'll send him over. Shannon out." Jim looks across to Guzman, who has already ushered the men outside, all of them grateful that someone else is now in charge, "Jackson's at Max's place - he's asleep right now. Go get him and make sure he wakes up in the brig."
"With pleasure, Mr Shannon." Guzman grins, "Welcome back."
It's still impossible to see, but nonetheless Malcolm all but strains his eyes to try and make out how much damage the explosion has wrought upon the assembled graveyard of ships. Mira's somewhere down there - is she alive? Is she injured? He can't begin to guess.
"I'm sorry!" Janet is distraught, "I'm so sorry! I just wanted to rescue Mr Thompson - I didn't want this to happen!"
"I know - believe me, I know." At once, his arm is about her shoulders, though his own mind is going at about a million miles a minute, "It was a risk - but we were willing to take it. She may be okay, she's more capable than you could even begin to guess. Besides, it was my fault, not yours - we found your stuff. I wanted to have that bloody laptop."
"What the hell happened?" Taylor has come into the crater now, followed by Dunham, "Are you okay?"
"We are - but Mira was trying to retrieve Falker's laptop." Malcolm answers, his expression badly shaken, "It was my fault. I was being an idiot again…she did it because I insisted we should have his data…"
"What for? Isn't it useless now?" Taylor is staring at him like he's gone out of his mind, "I thought I was the one who needed medication to stop me going gaga!"
"I know!" Malcolm's voice rises in distress, "I just wanted to know if he was right! I thought I was over that sort of stupidity - but it appears that I'm not!" At once, he is on his feet, and stumbling back towards the flaming wreckage, clearly desperate to know that his foolishness has not caused her death, "Mira! Mira! Are you okay? Where are you?"
Taylor turns to Dunham, "Get the girl back to the camp. For God's sake, don't tell Carter. If he thinks that she's dead, and Malcolm's responsible, I'll end up with two corpses on my hands."
"Yes sir." At once, he guides Janet back to the crevice to get her out of the crater.
Being considerably fitter, and stronger, than Malcolm, it doesn't take Taylor long to catch up with him, particularly as he is stumbling left and right, looking about frantically, and absolutely distraught. His old, obnoxious self has overtaken his better judgement, and someone's died for it. Oh, God - what will Max think of him over this? She might love him, warts and all, but how could she accept his sending someone to their death for the sake of a heap of data that he knew to be useless? This is him at his worst…his very worst…
"Malcolm, for God's sake, this isn't going to help anyone!" Taylor's voice interrupts his racing thoughts and he realises that he's on his knees, blubbering in the sand like an idiot. Slowly, he forces himself to get a grip, and looks up at the Commander, to see that there is far less angry censure in the man's eyes than he was expecting, "D'you think this has never happened to me? That I haven't made some dumb mistake in the field that killed people? God knows that if I blame you for this then that makes me the biggest hypocrite that ever lived! You know how good Mira is - if anyone could survive this, then she can."
"And if she hasn't?"
Taylor decides it's best not to answer that. They both know that, without Mira, their chances of getting back to the colony are almost less than zero. He hasn't got the first idea where they are, and only she really knows how to navigate properly with that damned sextant. Her death is almost certainly theirs. So she'd better not be dead.
The Madre de Dios is still far too hot to approach, the flames raging as they consume the fuel that remains inside the ship's tanks, but there's large chunks of the vessel scattered in all directions, and a lot of the other metal-hulled vessels are also somewhat disassembled. If Mira got out of the ship, then she'll be around here somewhere - but if she didn't…
"I can't see her anywhere, Commander." Malcolm's voice is shaking again.
"Me either." Taylor agrees, hunting under sheets of metal, behind rocks. If she was blown out of the ship, of course, then she could be anywhere - but it's impossible to…
Thud thud thud….thud…thud…thud…thud thud thud.
He pauses, looking around, "Malcolm, did you hear that?"
"No. What?" The hope in that voice is such that Taylor shudders.
Thud thud thud….thud…thud…thud…thud thud thud.
He knows what that is - Morse Code. They might use radios and comm units, but there isn't a soldier alive that doesn't know how to communicate in that primitive sequence of long and short sounds. And he knows what it's saying. S.O.S.
Thud thud thud….thud…thud…thud…thud thud thud.
Where's it coming from? Carefully, he turns, very, very slowly. The sound is quite regular, so he changes orientation before waiting for it again.
Thud thud thud….thud…thud…thud…thud thud thud.
There - that piece of airplane - part of the cabin by the looks of it, but sturdier than more modern aircraft. She must be under there - perhaps she took refuge when she realised she wouldn't have time to get any further back…
Thud thud thud….thud…thud…thud…thud thud thud.
"Malcolm! Over here!" It's clear that the curved bulkhead has been driven down into the sand, presumably trapping her under it, "Get stuff you can dig with - she's under this! Mira! We can hear you!"
Thud thud thud….thud…thud…thud…thud thud thud.
It appears, however, that she can't hear them. Presumably her eardrums were affected by the explosion. In spite of her concerns, he grabs a nearby chunk of metal and begins to bash in response.
T-A-Y-L-O-R—H-E-R-E—W-I-L-L—G-E-T—Y-O-U—O-U-T—H-O-L-D—O-N
Silence. Then, O-K.
"She's alive, Malcolm!" Taylor shouts back, knowing that that's the information that he'll most want to have, "Come on!"
Between them, they have two sheets of aluminium that serve as scoops. Taylor digs sand away from the bulkhead, while Malcolm stand behind to force it further away so it won't fall into the hole. Malcolm looks up to see, off in the distance, the lights of the rover as someone drives it down towards them. Hopefully, one of them's Paula. There's no way that Mira got out of this misadventure entirely unscathed.
Again, he sets to work on clearing away the sand that Taylor removes as he burrows downwards, and - at length, there is a large enough gap for him to scramble down and reach in, before lugging Mira out of her refuge. A refuge that came horribly close to becoming her tomb.
Moving awkwardly on a clearly broken leg, she looks up at Taylor, "Thanks. I thought that was going to drive me right down into the sand. As it was, I didn't have much air left." In spite of everything, she sounds astonishingly businesslike. Then she turns to Malcolm, "I think you wanted this."
She's holding out the laptop.
Trembling, Malcolm takes it, "I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry - I was thinking like an idiot. I shouldn't have made you go after it - I could've killed you. God, I nearly did…"
"I got it. That's what counts. C'mon - let's get the hell out of here." She attempts to walk on her busted leg, and falls with a sharp cry. And that breaks her composure. In moments, she is crumpled against Taylor, sobbing in horror, while he wraps his arms around her, "Thattagirl. Let it out." She can deal with pretty much anything - but being entombed alive? He's not surprised she's cracked: he's not sure he wouldn't have done the same if it had been him. Beside him, he can see Malcolm is also on the floor, his expression livid with guilt and remorse. Damn - he's going to have to get the pair of them to put this to one side for the time being if he's going to get everyone back to the Colony.
And he can't guarantee there's enough of that distillate left to help him do it.
Paula hastens across the sand, "Is she injured, Commander?"
"Broken leg, I think." He answers, "Possibly perforated eardrums - you'll need to check that. She was pretty close to the blast."
She's not crying anymore, but seems loath to move from that comforting sense of arms around her. How long has it been since she last had someone do that? Taylor doesn't want to guess, but he shifts slightly, "Paula's here, Mira. She needs to look at your leg."
Mira moves slightly, but it's clear that she didn't hear him - only sensed the sound of his voice reverberating as her head rested on his shoulder. As she does so, he can see blood on her left earlobe - yes, her eardrums are perforated, and she's deaf. At least it'll only be temporary - but nonetheless, it's not going to be pleasant for someone who has relied upon her hearing to stay alive for years.
Fortunately, she notices that Paula's present, and immediately shifts, slowly, so that Paula can come in and examine her. Being deafened by the explosion, she's working only on what she can see and feel, but she knows that it's not just her leg, she's got a couple of fractured ribs by the feel of it, though she's pretty sure nothing's been punctured other than her eardrums, "I think I've cracked some ribs." She advises, though she can see from Paula's face that she's misjudged the volume, and spoken far more loudly than she needed to.
Paula nods, "I'll give you some analgesics to get you back to camp." She advises, speaking slowly and with exaggerated movements of her mouth in the hopes that Mira can lipread. She's not surprised at the nod. Of course she can, "I still have some fracture compound, so that should sort out your bones, though you'll need to rest for at least two days. I can't heal your eardrums until we get back to the colony."
"They'll heal themselves as long as I don't get them wet and infected." This time, she can see that her voice is less painfully noisy, "Let's get the hell out of here."
It takes a matter of minutes to inject the analgesic, and for Taylor to fashion a simple field splint to keep the bones from moving about too much. Getting her back to the rover is a more complicated procedure, but it's possible to seat her in the front passenger seat, while Paula and Malcolm cram into the rear seats and Taylor takes the wheel. It's likely that Dunham would have demanded to drive, but that would've left someone having to walk back.
Sitting behind Mira, Malcolm hugs the laptop to his chest and shudders at how close his demand for the wretched thing came to killing the only person who can be guaranteed to get them all home safely. Has he learned nothing in all the years he's been in Terra Nova? Nothing is worth the loss of a life - particularly something that is of so little overall value to the future of the Colony. There aren't enough of them to screw up this world, and they've worked so damned hard to ensure that what energy they produce is clean that the chances of their doing so are slim to none. Once again, he's set aside his better judgement in his determination to prove a scientific point. Worse, if they hadn't gone back immediately, but waited until first light, she would've suffocated in that tiny space - pattering out that SOS until the end, and never knowing whether there was anyone outside to hear it. Deeply ashamed, he finds he can't stop the tears from escaping, but fights with himself not to show it. It's Mira who deserves the sympathy in all of this - not him.
By the time Taylor guides the rover out of the cleft in the rocks, dawn's breaking, and people are moving about in the camp. Everyone's looking at the rover, hoping that no one's been left behind. The relief on people's faces when they find that no one has been is heartwarming, as is the surge of volunteers to help Mira out of the vehicle and get her to the medical tent so that Paula can finish off treating her fractures.
Emerging from the rover once the crowd has departed, Malcolm crosses to the small group of survivors, and stops in front of Falker, "I think this is what you were looking for." He says, very quietly.
Immediately, Falker reaches for it, "That's it - that's it! You've got it! Thank you - God, you don't know what this means…my life's work is on this…everything that I needed to prove them wrong…" Then he pauses, "Where's the power cable? It's no use without that!"
"Probably carbonised." Malcolm advises, "The ship blew up just after Mira got out - she nearly died."
"What am I supposed to do with a laptop that I can't power up? That's years of research - and it's lost!"
"Bryce - don't…" Janet looks embarrassed, and shoots an apologetic glance at Malcolm, hoping he won't lose his temper.
He doesn't. Suddenly very, very tired, Malcolm turns and walks away to his tent.
The convoy has arrived back at the camp, and those who were not part of the escort are already working to get the injured up onto the platform so that they can rest while preparations begin for their departure. Bram is busy with figures on a plex, as Malcolm has retreated into himself somewhat since the incident in the crater, and Taylor is rather concerned - though he has other matters to think about. Dunham has already organised the security teams to get started on filling up the water tanks in the second Rhino, while he goes through the supplies they brought out of the ship. Most of it consists of foodstuffs that he's only vaguely heard of, but they look edible, and, when one has nothing else to eat, that'll do.
Mira's fractures have responded well to the compound, though the process is never particularly comfortable as the treatment accelerates the knitting of the bones. Thus she has retreated to the shade of the overhang, and sits quietly, cleaning her sextant again in preparation to navigate their homeward trek. She looks up as Taylor approaches and sits beside her, "Yes, Commander, I'll be okay to go as soon as you want to move."
"I'm sure you will, Mira. I wasn't going to ask that." Like Paula, he speaks slowly, and with exaggerated movements of his mouth.
"I'd rather not talk about it." She pauses, "My hearing's coming back a bit - you sound muffled, but I can make out what you're saying."
"I wasn't going to ask that, either."
She looks at him, bemused, "What, then?"
"The distillate's running out. Paula's got enough to get us maybe halfway back - and then that's it. I go senile again - and there's no certainty that Dr Shannon can get me back from it. I don't know how far gone I am, so that short time could be the clincher."
"Then we do what we did in on the way out. Malcolm's in charge of the convoy, I look after our survival and Dunham runs the Security team."
"And Paula keeps me knocked out."
"I'll do what I can to get us home as quick as possible." Mira says, "I can work from the front seat of a rover - I'll be stiff, yes, but I've known worse pain than that. We've got a fixed destination in mind, and I've marked our route, so we just head for home and don't spare the the horses."
"How long do you think it'll take?"
"A week, maybe two. Difficult to say." She admits, "I'm assuming that we won't be having to concentrate on being stalked like we were on the way out - it's too dry for bambis: there's no prey big enough to sustain them out here. We've been gone too long for any that saw us go to be waiting for us to come back. They're smart, but they're not that smart." She pauses, "Malcolm's taking this pretty hard."
Taylor nods, "I know - he did something he's not done for a long time: be a complete ass over something stupid. He saw what it did to you and now he feels like hell about it. Particularly given that the guy he insisted on getting it for was only happy until he found out there was no power cable for it. Then he started complaining."
"Ah." Mira sighs, "so he's feeling guilty as hell, and even the person he demanded we get that laptop for is pissed at him about it. No wonder he feels bad. Once I'm more flexible, I'll have a word with him about it. I get the feeling that this is the first time he's made a decision that's nearly blown up in someone else's face. Or, in my case, literally."
Taylor looks at his watch, "Nearly time for some chow. I'll get Carter on it."
"I'd rather you didn't." Mira smirks.
Taking Mira's warning at face value, Taylor has designated Savage to prepare the evening meal while he goes in search of Malcolm, who has been rather conspicuous by his absence for much of the day. While he sympathises, the one thing he can't have right now is an expedition leader sulking in a tent - so it's time to kick him out of it.
As he suspected, Malcolm is absorbed in images of his wife and daughter, gazing miserably at them looking up at him from the screen of his plex, "Mind if I come in?"
Startled, Malcolm looks up and hastily sets the screen down, "Yes, er no…please come in, Commander." He rises, politely to his feet.
"When I was about your age." Taylor says, indicating that he sit again, before seating himself in a camp chair, "I had to lead a bunch of guys behind enemy lines; we'd been sent to disrupt communications between a low-ranking warlord and one of the really big hitters. We didn't have a lot of time to do it - and there'd been a whole pile of delays before we got out there. I had a choice between taking a quick route that might be watched, and taking a long one that wasn't. We had time to do both - but I wanted to get in there quickly, so I decided to take the quick route - through a narrow valley. We scouted it: nothing. My second in command was dead against it: convinced there were hostiles hiding on the sides of the hills, but I decided we were gonna do it anyway - the sooner we were in there, the sooner we'd get out and back to base - hit 'em hard, hit 'em fast. You know the drill."
Malcolm nods. It's not that dissimilar to Taylor's approach these days.
"Trouble is - he was right. There were hostiles in those hills - and we'd missed 'em because they were so damn good at hiding in that terrain. It was a dumb mistake on my part - I didn't listen to the person who knew the region. Fifty of us went into that valley; only twenty two came out. We got through, and we blew the comms line - but near-on thirty people died that didn't have to. Because of me. So, I get it. I know what you're feeling - because I've done worse. Mira's not pissed at you, nor am I. You knew it was going to happen eventually, but you couldn't say when, so you made your call. It could've been worse - but she made it, and so she's still here to get us home."
Malcolm remains silent, turning Taylor's advice over in his mind, then he sighs, "I'm just not used to making decisions that can get people killed."
"Out here, it comes with the territory."
"So I'm learning."
The sudden sound of the tent flap being pulled back startles the pair of them, and they see Falker in the doorway, "What's taking so long? I would've had us on our way hours ago, for God's sake. I need to get somewhere to rig a power source for my laptop given that you didn't find it!"
Without waiting for an answer, he retreats.
Malcolm rises from the camp bed, "Much as I hate to admit it, he's got a point - I need to check that the inventory's sorted out." He pauses, "Mind you, I think I know why his wife divorced him now. He appears to be an utter dick."
Taylor snorts with amusement. It sounds like his pep talk has worked.
There are plenty of yawns as the party emerge from their various tents in the early hours. Now that the weather is growing hotter, the need to travel in those essential shoulder periods of relative cool is becoming greater, and Mira's demand that they observe safe travelling practices is backed up by Malcolm, and by Taylor - though he has again made it very clear that there are no more orders coming from him.
"You should all know." He says, as people check in their struck tents for packing aboard a rhino, "I have enough distillate to get me about halfway back. After that, it's anyone's guess what'll happen, so my prohibition of obeying orders given by me is still in effect. Malcolm's in overall command, with Mira in charge of survival and Dunham in charge of Security. Any questions?"
Silence.
"Are you sure that this man is capable of being in charge of an expedition?" Falker is already badgering him as he heads to his rover, "From what I gather, his experience is entirely based in labs."
"He's been out in this terrain more than you have, Dr Falker, and he got us out here without incident. If you have any issues with his leadership, take it up with him." Taylor turns to Janet, "Everything packed?"
She nods, "Yes, Commander Taylor. We're ready to go. Nurse Simpson says that she's settled Mateo in one of the lorries - he's not quite ready to sit in one of the cars yet."
He nods. That's a girl with a good head on her shoulders, albeit one overly sentimental about a cuddly toy dog, "Good. Get to your designated rover. You too, Doctor. Time to move out."
Falker makes to protest, but Taylor pointedly clambers into his rover, Dunham riding shotgun, and starts it up.
Mira is taking bearings, though she's having to do so sitting on a rock, as her leg is still a little unsteady, and she needs to stand as still as possible, "Right, we need to go straight south for the time being, Malcolm. Ready?"
"What - to go home to my wife and daughter? Whatever gave you that idea?"
"Nothing - other than the fact that you've had the rover running for nearly ten minutes - and it's not like you to waste the battery pack like that." She smiles at him as she sits in the passenger seat.
It's been a remarkable home from home - but in less than ten minutes, the outcrop is empty and silent.