Chapter Text
Earth Date: 15/03/2168
Mindoir’s main encampment, Domocus, stretched out in the valley below them when they rounded the crest of Old Man Whiskey. Alan Shepard raised his hand to lift his hat from his brow, wiping the sweat where the band had been sticking. Domocus had been busy since his party set out in the morning, he could see a pyre built up in each of the three community squares, each pyre supposed to represent the thrusters of the ships which brought the first-drop settlers. They’d be lit at sunset for Landing Day, their fifteenth annual celebration of the successful groundbreaking.
Domocus had grown from a cluster of pre-fabs, adding a region of wooden cabins and even a brick townhall towards the west. Sal’s Point, on the coast, and Romy’s further to the south were still in pre-fab stage, shining in the sunlight that flooded the valley. Alan had recently agreed to a partial clearing of Bobby’s Forest in order to create more grazing for the goats and the lumber was already earmarked for a few family homes in every settlement.
“Looks like they’ve been busy,” Sam said at his shoulder. He gave the cuffed batarian a little push and continued down towards the settlement, the rest of the party following along behind. Alan lingered, watching the batarian’s bowed head as it watched it’s footing. The other one in the shuttle had died in the crash and this one looked a little battered. All the same, it had put up one hell of a fight until Kimmy had lobbed a fist sized rock right at the batarian’s head. He was glad she’d done it, but somehow he wished he’d been faster with the hunting rifle he’d brought with them and taken a shot through the alien’s skull. It was going to bring nothing but bad news to the colony.
Kimmy glanced back at him, eyebrows raised in silent question and he nodded, starting down into the valley.
Mindoir’s population of approximately 400,000 humans were spread between four large encampments. Domocus, Sal’s Point and Romy’s had all been established by first-drop’rs, while Coska, a good few hundred klicks to the north had been established by the majority of the third-drop’rs. He was going to have to comm them about their guest. He only hoped the Coskans hadn’t seen one of these aliens before. Would the Coskans keep this kind of knowledge from the rest of them? No, even their recalcitrance didn’t extend that far.
Kimmy was one of the fourth drop settlers, their most recent shipment after the colony had reported they were happy to expand again. It was going to be her second, no, third Landing Day celebration. He liked Kimmy, she had the right Mindoiran attitude. She was a young kid, full of spunk and she was a dab hand with a spanner too. She could have had her pick of colonies, but she had chosen Mindoir. He liked that too.
Anyone who chose his little planet over the larger, more corporate ventures of Terra Nova, Eden Prime and the other, faster growing colonies in the Traverse was alright by him.
Jonas and Lou he would trust to the death, and Sam’s heart was in the right place, but he’d be more inclined to run his mouth after a few inaugural ales tonight. And the best place to keep this batarian was in the town hall. Alan just had to hope they could get there without too many eyeballs tracking their progress.
“Uh oh,” Kimmy pointed towards a small troupe of Mindoirans fishing in the river. “We might have some company soon.”
Alan followed her gaze, noted the range of ages, the usual suspects, and yes – there she was – his heart leapt in his suddenly-dry mouth. His eldest daughter lifted her head, dark hair whipping in the wind, her dungarees rolled up past her knees, her body not quite as lanky and child-like as it had once been. Sometimes now he could see the woman she was going to become, see flashes of his family in her. He saw a lot of his wife in her face, her eyes, her dark hair, but something of himself too. She caught sight of him and he heard her shout in the wind, before she began tearing up the hill towards them.
“Take that thing to the hall,” he said to Sam, striding forwards to meet his daughter halfway. Her friends remained by the stream, his team still taking the batarian, and he wondered if one day she’d be the one taking a scout party out to search the perimeters for crashed shuttles.
“Dad!” she grinned, breathlessly, as she came to a stop beside him. “Who was that?” she asked, nodding to the others.
He wanted to say ‘no one’ and tell her to forget she’d seen an extra person return with the party. From here the batarian would look human, to a child who had never seen one before, but his daughter was leaving childhood behind, and she would never accept ‘no one’ for an answer. He didn’t try to remain light hearted for her sake. Instead, he placed his hand on her shoulder. “Go to your mother and tell her to meet me in the town hall. You might have to keep an eye on your sisters.”
Her gaze clouded and she looked back over to Kimmy and the others. “Is everything okay?”
“Just go,” he said, bowing to kiss the crown of her head. “Quickly, please, and don’t stop to speak to anyone.”
She was frowning hard now, brows furrowing over blue eyes, but she nodded and took off down the hill, moving far faster than he ever would down the steep scree, surefooted and unafraid of falling. He watched her go, watched some of her friends make an attempt to follow, and hoped his heart would stop racing. Batarians on Mindoir.
Not on his watch. His gaze was drawn skywards, to the wisps of white clouds still sticking on their azure sky, promising a chilly evening for their Landing Day fires. Perfect skies. Unmarked skies.
***
The batarian was locked in the basement where the casks were stored. It was offered water, but tied very firmly to his chair. Alan waited in the stairwell, his arms folded as he leaned against the cool brick, listening to the debate between Tommen and Nicki. The door at the end of the corridor opened, closing again almost immediately, but bringing with it all the warmth, security and safety he needed. He reached out for his wife, embracing her and holding her close, closing his eyes as he buried his face in the crook of her neck. “Bridge,” he murmured.
“You stink,” she said softly, extricating herself for long enough to peer up at him, scrutinising his appearance with narrowed eyes. “Well?” her gaze darted down the hallway to where Tommen and Nicki were still arguing. “How bad is it?”
“One survivor. Batarian.”
Bridget sucked in her breath through her teeth, nodding. “What are we going to do?” she asked him, taking a few steps further away from the arguing pair.
He ran his fingers over his beard, thinking that Tommen would be listening for these exact words. “We need to alert the Alliance,” he said.
Bridget’s face remained impassive, except for the tightening of her lips. Tommen, however, swore and kicked at the wall. “We can’t,” Tommen said. “They’ll be all over us.”
“I agree, we came here because we didn’t want the Alliance on our backs,” Nicki said. “Besides, that sort of decision cannot be made unilaterally. That’s a vote. A council vote at least. Maybe even a settler vote.”
“We kill the batarian,” Tommen added, slamming a fist into the opposite palm.
“We are not killing the batarian,” Alan snapped, too quickly, and he could practically see Tommen’s hackles rise.
“You’re not in charge here, Shepard, regardless of what you might think.”
“Tommen, wait,” Nicki began, shifting her weight and laying a hand on Tommen’s arm. “Look, it’ll be safe enough here for the night. Let’s get the ground breakers together this evening, discuss what to do then. In the end, we make the decision. Together,” she added the last word with a stern glare in Alan’s direction. He could only nod. It was a decision the ground breakers should make together. Mindoir was theirs, as was its future.
Bridget sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “What kind of shuttle was it?”
He lifted his comms device, showing her the pictures he’d snapped, studying her face for any signs of recognition. He didn’t like the way her eyes turned stony and her mouth tightened even further.
“You know what that is, Bridge?” Tommen asked.
“It’s designed for long range work, small crew,” Bridget said, turning her head away.
“A scout,” Nicki said, her words very soft in the hallway.
Alan found himself nodding.
***
The fires were something spectacular that evening, with singing and dancing beside each one, food so good that his stomach ached and company that would have put any of the larger colonies to shame. Back in the days before first contact, Mindoir might have become something more like its older siblings, Eden Prime and Terra Nova. It was the fourth colonised planet, but limited by the Mindoir Charter expressly prohibiting commercialised settling. Something he himself had drafted, and had been so proud of. Three years after the colony had been settled, and when they were about to open their doors to a second drop, the First Contact War had happened, and suddenly those noble words and ideals seemed so much hot air and bluster. Where was the Alliance? There was no garrison on Mindoir like on Shanxi.
The ground breakers, those who had co-ordinated, funded and survived the first drop, listened to him as he worked his way around their fires. It was all very well to say they were independent, back when there was nothing out here, but the frontier was no frontier after all, it was only someone else’s back yard. Humans had an embassy on the Citadel now. If batarians were sniffing around, Mindoir shouldn’t have to silently worry.
The speech was given so often, to people he knew so well, that by the end of the evening, he had it down to an art. If it came to a vote, he thought the ground breakers might agree that they should signal the Alliance.
He joined Bridget at the square they had made their first camp in, so many years ago. She had Harry sitting on her lap while she talked and laughed with some of the other ground breakers and later drop’rs. He sat beside them, wrapping an arm around her waist and listening to their jokes. He spotted Kimmy with his two younger daughters, trying to learn the fast paced jig that they liked best. Bridget elbowed him, pointing to the shadows where the shadow of his eldest could be spotted, trying to wrestle Mike Gurran to the amusement of a crowd of teenaged onlookers.
“In a few years’ time, she’ll be doing that a little differently,” Bridget murmured. “Where does the time go?”
He shook his head, but he wondered if, in a few years’ time, there mightn’t be an Alliance presence here too.
Late in the evening, as the fires cooled to embers, he noticed Lou and Kimmy working their way through the crowd, faces grim. He passed Harry to a friend and skirted into the narrow alleys between prefabs, waiting for the two to catch up to him. Kimmy dragged her hands through her hair, while Lou pulled his pipe from his pocket, tapping at the tobacco inside.
“Batarian’s dead,” Kimmy whispered, while Lou worked at lighting the pipe. “Slit its wrists.”
“It did?” Alan asked, his heart sinking a stone. “Or did someone do it for him?”
“Guards said no one went in,” Kimmy said.
Lou snorted, taking a deep puff from his pipe. “I saw the guards at the drinks table myself. Anyone could have gone in.”
“You don’t think-” Kimmy began, eyes widening.
Lou only shrugged, meeting Alan’s gaze. “Maybe. Maybe not. Now we can’t question it.”
“Question it?” Kimmy’s eyes were as wide as saucers now, reflecting stars and embers. “Alan, you don’t think they’re actually going to come here, do you?” She crossed her arms in front of her slender chest, her emotions waging open war on her slightly flushed face. Inexplicably, he thought of his daughter wrestling the Gurran boy, wondered if Kimmy had ever done something similar, if she’d ever fallen in love, how many hearts she’d broken.
“Not on my watch,” he told her, placing a hand on her arm, feeling the tense muscles relax a little under his touch. “This is our planet. We will be safe here.”