Kinder des Schicksals 4 (Xeelee 9): Resplendent

of
people, wouldn’t have approached that village at all - if not for
that pink light. It was Tilo’s beacon. Kard had made it clear enough
that unless I came home with the Academician, or at least with his
data, next time I made a drop it would be without a Yukawa suit.
    I slowed my fall and barked out orders. I knew my people would be
able to supervise the evacuation of the main township without me; it
was a simple mission. Then I redirected my own descent, down towards
the smaller community. I’d go get Tilo out of there myself.
    It was only after I had committed myself that I saw one of my
troop had followed me: the kid, Lian.
    No time to think about that now. A Yukawa suit is good for one
drop, one way. You can’t go back and change your mind. Anyhow I was
already close. I glimpsed a few ramshackle buildings, upturned faces
shining like coins.
    Then the ground raced up to meet me. Feet together, knees bent,
back straight, roll when you hit - and then a lung-emptying impact on
hard rock.
     
    I allowed myself three full breaths, lying there on the cold
ground, as I checked I was still in one piece.
    Then I stood and pulled off my visor. The air was breathable, but
thick with the smell of burning, and of sulphur. But the ground
quivered under my feet, over and over. I wasn’t too troubled by that
- until I reminded myself that I wasn’t on a ship any more, that
planets were supposed to be stable.
    Lian was standing there, her suit glowing softly. ’Good landing,
sir,’ she said.
    I nodded, glad she was safe, but irritated; if she’d followed
orders she wouldn’t have been here at all. I turned away from her, a
deliberate snub that was enough admonishment for now.
    I tried to get my bearings. The sky was deep. Beyond clouds of
ash, sunsats swam. And past them I glimpsed the red pinprick of the
true sun, and the wraith-like Galaxy disc.
    I was just outside that mountainside village. Below me the valley
skirted the base of Mount Perfect, neatly separating it from more
broken ground beyond. The landscape was dark green, its contours
coated by forest, and clear streams bubbled into a river that ran
down the valley’s centre. A single, elegant bridge spanned the
valley, reaching towards the old Conurbation on the far side. Further
upstream I saw what looked like a logging plant, giant pieces of
yellow-coloured equipment standing idle amid huge piles of sawn
trees. Idyllic, if you liked that kind of thing, which I didn’t.
    On this side of the valley, the village was just a huddle of huts
- some of them made from wood - clustered on the lower slopes of the
mountain. Bigger buildings might have been a school, a medical centre
maybe, and there were a couple of battered ground transports. Beyond,
I glimpsed the rectangular shapes of fields - apparently ploughed,
not a glimmer of replicator technology in sight. It was like a
living-history exhibit. But today it was all covered in ash.
    People were standing, watching me, grey as the ground under their
feet. Men, women, children, infants in arms, old folk, people in
little clusters. There were maybe thirty of them.
    Lian stood close to me. ’Sir, I don’t understand. The way they are
standing together - ’
    ’These are families,’ I murmured. ’You’ll pick it up.’
    ’Dark matter.’ The new voice was harsh, damaged by smoke.
    A man was limping towards me. About my height and age but a lot
leaner, he wore a tattered Navy coverall, and was he using an
improvised crutch to hobble over the rocky ground, favouring what
looked like a broken leg. His face and hair were grey with the
ash.
    I said, ’You’re the Academician.’
    ’Yes, I’m Tilo.’
    ’We’re here to get you out.’
    He barked a laugh. ’Sure you are. Listen to me. Dark matter.
That’s why the Xeelee are here, meddling in this system. It may have
nothing to do with us at all. Things are going to happen fast. If I
don’t get out of here… whatever happens, just remember that one
thing - dark matter.’
    A woman hurried towards me. One of the locals, she was wearing a
simple shift of woven cloth, and leather sandals on her feet; she
looked maybe forty, strong, tired. An antique translator box hovered
at her shoulder. ’My name is Doel,’ she said. ’We saw you fall.’
    ’Are you in charge here?’
    ’I - ’ She smiled wearily. ’Yes, if you like. Will you help us get
out of here?’
    She didn’t look, or talk, or act, like any Expansion citizen I had
ever met. Things truly had