Prospectors of New Earth

____Prospectors of New Earth____

____Prologue____


In 2063 the global fuel crisis was at its height; global warming was destroying habitats, flooding large portions of our once heavenly globe; extinctions were happening more and more regularly; economic strain and overpopulation were stifling humanity. It seemed as though there was no end in sight. But when the world’s great powers – Europe, China, India, Iran and the Southern African Union - offered humanity a life-line, eager hand’s reached out, oxygen starved lungs clammered for air.

The SS Mandela, Earth’s first fusion powered space craft gave the people a shining beacon in the blackness of space. This great colony ship was the first to bear the ability to break the light-barrier. The Mandela, slow as she was, was the first vessel to provide humanity with a vehicle from which to reach out and grasp the stars. And that we did! 

Within half a century, the 7,000 civilians she carried in coldsleep had found a renewed home to call their own. A garden world, absent of almost any animal life, a lush green haven to settle in to. That first 7,000 named their home New Earth, in reverence to the shattered gem they left behind - christening their capital as Cassandra after the who had led them this far.

But all was not well. After fifty years of peace and prosperity – freedom from disease, war, and strife in their growing city a great civil war broke out, pitting friends against each other, many died, and in the fighting the SS Mandela with all its star charts and cosmological data was destroyed – the rebuilding humans were trapped in their new system and they couldn’t leave if they wished it. And few did wish it, the new generations born since the colonisation of New Earth wanted nothing of the separation and nationalism of their parents’ homes. Instead they longed to rebuild and grow, to forget that old planet.

A century later and humanity had once again spread across their planet. Great glittering cities filled with millions covered the continents of their terra nova, eco friendly spires of crystal and steel powered by wind and light and fusion dominated the planet. New technologies were being discovered as never before: stronger, more adaptable polymers and alloys were created; manipulation of the genome was made an art form; trans-luminal communications – NetherComm – led to trans-luminal transport – NetherDrive, the utilisation of NetherSpace a parallel dimension to NormalSpace in which location was irrelevant. It made travel theoretically near-instantaneous, and with this and the discovery of artificial gravity it was possible for man to grasp space with both hands, without the fear of time dilation or isolation caused by light speed travel.

Man founded outposts up and down the spiral arm – colonies and stations were born almost over-night, contact with the emergent and diverse huatl mai, a sapient feline species, the only other known sentient life forms in the Universe provided exotic goods and cultures. Mineral wealth flooded back to Cassandra and New Earth. New works of art, yet more tech, an emerging pan-human democracy, all gave birth to the largest, cleanest most prosperous civilisation in history. Protected from bandits and rebels by its great Confederate Navy it grew further, ever expanding and innovating, adapting and colonising without a care or a thought for Earth. The Shattered Jewel.

But then the degrading radio signal reached the borderlands, the hind-end of the Confederacy;

“Mandela come home. Help us, Mandela. Are you out there?”


____Chapter 1____


The NetherSpace veil fell away from the hull of the CV Providence, effortlessly and efficiently as always. The old vessel slid back into NormalSpace approximately 200,000 kilometres from its overall destination - the source of the radio signal -Earth. Or what could be Earth. But now they would find out whether it was the former home world of humanity, lost centuries prior to the formation of the Human Confederacy.

Red lights lit up across the control room of the Providence, signalling the presence of nearby astrological bodies,

“Nine planets, Saul; Hundreds of moons; an asteroid belt; all orbiting a class G star, we’re pretty close to the source as well.” Commander Fu Xian called across the bridge from her scanning station on the lower level, her wavy black pony-tail sliding across her shoulder as she tossed her head to the side to call him.
“Right. Thanks Xian,” Saul O’Reilly scratched his thick black goatee, leaning against the rickety aluminium railing separating the two levels of his bridge “, compare the system to the records. If it turns out after we’ve landed that this ain’t Sol that’s added another stage to this ridiculous venture…” muttering something about historians and the military he turned around to face the marine sergeant who had since emerged from the corridor behind him.

“I take it we’ve arrived at Earth, sir?” the six foot and a half janissary marine snapped a quick salute as the captain faced him, his beige fatigues and red insignia of rank immaculately turned out as always.
“How many times Franz, at ease. I’m not an officer. Stop saluting me; it’s been nearly a year already.”
“Sorry sir,” Franz Mehrani came to lean besides his assigned leader, who had since returned to face commander Fu - he was nearly a head taller than O’Reilly, and a great deal more muscular. A result of the genetic manipulation applied to all janissaries before they are even conceived, making them more physiologically adaptable and subservient than base humans - as well as sterile.

Adding to the contrast in size was an overall contrast in appearance; whereas the rugged captain O’Reilly was bearded with neatly trimmed mutton chops and a black goatee as well as a thick black mohawk running over his crown, the sergeant was clean shaven, with tightly cropped brown hair framing his features; where the sergeant’s skin was a light shade of brown, slightly darker than the beige of his uniform, with glowing amber eyes and heavy but tidy brows, the ship’s captain had skin that was a deeper shade of brown with chestnut brown eyes and slightly arched brows. Saul was also adorned with a tattoo of a rayed black diamond in the centre of his forehead, and multiple scars, pale lines across his cheeks with one running vertically from his brow to his upper lip – all a testament to his past as a privateer captain.

“And sergeant, we don’t know it is Earth yet,” the darker man corrected, his deep voice clearly sceptical
“Sir?”
“Actually Saul we do,” Xian said, her full, red painted lips parting with a friendly grin directed towards the janissary, who responded with a reserved smile. The shade of red complimented her olive colourings and her earthy green, almond eyes. 
“We do?”
“Yeah,” she walked over, folding her arms and raising her elegant eyebrows as if to say ‘I told you so’ - “we do. I compared the records; the orbits match, the masses match. We’re right next to our ancestral home. I even cross referenced the landmasses -”
“Okay. Great. We’ve found our soiled bed-linens,” he grinned sarcastically, tugging at his plain off-white t-shirt “, go team Prov. I can’t wait to file my report.”
“I’m actually looking forward to investigating the planet, sir. It would make a change from all the barren planets we survey.”
“Who said we’re landing? I’ve decided against it.”
“Oh. I just assumed… Sorry captain.” The janissary looked slightly disappointed, but he hid it well,
“Don’t worry Franz. We are going to investigate. Aren’t we Saul? That’s what the admiral said,”
“Well we know it’s Earth – now we leave it to the archaeologists. We don’t get paid…”
“We get paid for doing what Naval Command says. Besides, you’ll be the first human to set foot on that planet in 200 years. You’ll go down in the records” She gave a knowing grin to her commander. She’d won.
“God, why did I hire you?” He shook his head smiling slightly, whilst the sergeant just stood there looking slightly bored, his arms folded across his broad chest. “I’m already in the records and you know it. Find us somewhere to land, Xian.” O’Reilly sighed, turning and walking away from the bridge whilst straightening the waistband of his worn camo trousers.
“Your wish, Saul. It’s my sparkling personality and you know it!” Commander Fu shouted after him.

As the commanding officer disappeared from view in the Providence’s central corridor Xian returned to the centre of the lower portion of the cockpit, standing beside the currently on standby holographic display and tapping a series of keys on the control panel. The towering marine ducked under the barriers separating the two halves of the bridge to join her.

His brown naval issue boots clattered against the steel grates of the floor as he strode over to the Providence’s second in command. As they stood there Fu tapped a key and the display flickered into life, beams of light powering up and colliding, projecting a flickering image into the air above the lower platform’s central console. The interface showed a ball of grey and brown, thick clouds of black smog rolled over it. This was what was left of Earth. The tales of a ‘Shattered Jewell’ were true.

“How could they?” she asked the air in front of her “We.”
“It’s a mess,” the janissary crooned in return, she turned to face him, her emerald almond shaped eyes focused on his as she turned and smiled as though to comfort him, but she was obviously the most disturbed,
“Sensors show there’s a lot of radiation and debris down there too though, especially around the equator. I think they nuked themselves.”
“Why would they do that? Nothing’s that bad.”
“War. Probably over resources - It’s good we left when we did really. But I think there are still people down there, the sensors are picking up underground buildings, especially under the larger ruins. They’re really deep down. It’d be warmer under there, away from the clouds; near the core.”
“They still fight on, even after all that.” He sounded proud. Xian turned to face the marine, her olive skin creased again into a smile,
“It would be better not to get into that predicament in the first place… You should prep your team, sarge. Or has my amazing character captured even your mindful self?” she switched the display off and Mehrani marched away, pulling himself up on the barriers with a clatter against the metal upper platform.



____Chapter 2____


O’Reilly, Mehrani, Fu and two of the sergeant’s marines stood assembled at the Providence’s embarkation ramp which lay open, the civilian transport had since landed smoothly and without incident - aside from minor turbulence caused by dense clouds in the stratosphere - on the planet and the captain and the sarge as well as Corporals Kaufmann and Mbete were now being briefed by Xian.

“We’ve landed in the Northern hemisphere of Earth. The records say that we’ve landed in the centre of the European Union – in the ruins of its capital, Berlin-”
“We don’t need a history lesson Xian,” the captain interrupted her, loading his personal SMG and fastening his as-per-the-regulations stahlsilk enforced upper body armour,
“Well I’m going to give you one anyway,” she blinked her narrow eyes disapprovingly at his interruption, whilst helping Mbete into her heavy flak vest, fastening the buckles at her sides “, it was a city of tens of millions, even before the Mandela left. People from all corners of Europe and the globe came here to work and live. Berlin was the world’s second largest city, just over a million, population wise, just behind Johannesburg in the South African Union.”

“Do you have a point? Why delay my ‘glory’ any longer?” she gave Saul’s sarcasm a glare,
“…I think a small portion of Earth’s population may have survived, in massive complexes of underground bunkers. It’s why I picked this place to land. It has the biggest network sensors detected; maybe you should try to communicate with its residents - find out what happened after we left. The historians’ll worship the ground you walk on.”
O’Reilly thought on it a moment, he didn’t like the idea of leaving innocents behind when the Providence could save them from eternal imprisonment underground “, I’ll find the bunker, just direct us there. And keep an eye out for other ships, our mission’s not official remember. The Navy might get suspicious. Right, we all ready?”

“Is there any surviving life on the surface?” it was Mehrani, now out of his beige fatigues; he was dressed in heavy armour – cream painted alloyed titanium plates covered his broad shoulders and chest as well as his abdomen, his back, and his upper-legs and crotch. They were cushioned by a grey kevloid under suit, reinforced with stahlsilk. Across his cream chest, a red and gold eagle was stencilled, carrying a banner inscribed with the stylised CN of the Navy as well as the three red stars of his rank. He carried an assault rifle with both hands, its black contrasting with the light colouring of his armour. The Corporal’s were now dressed and armed identically to Mehrani, aside from the fact that their armour showed a chevron and a star rather than the three stars of his. 
“There are a few isolated pockets of plant life in the southern hemisphere, mostly lichens and mosses but aside from that it’s too cold and too inhospitable.”
“No Fauna?”
“Perhaps in the bunkers, but there’s non above ground,”
“Damn,” the janissary let out a small chuckle as the trio fastened on their red helmets, the gold tipped white-spike in the centre reminiscent of the ancient German pickelhaube  “, the Darwin Institute’s gonna be disappointed.” Saul and Xian shared a quick look - It was the first time they’d heard Franz tell a joke since he was assigned to the CV Providence ten months ago, maybe he was more comfortable around other janissaries?

“We’d better go,” Saul signed, clearly still peeved at having to explore a planet he had little or no interest in. He turned away from Fu, walking down the embarkation ramp onto Earth - the heavily armed janissaries followed suit.
“I’ll direct you to the bunker over your comm devices.”
__

As the ramp sealed behind the group, a hiss and a clunk of the pneumatic lock accompanied by a dual-toned beep indicating that it was now airtight, Saul took in the view. This planet was a wreck.

The ship had landed width ways in a plaza at the centre of the city, in was paved in small blackened, cracked concrete tiles, dead weeds had pervaded the tiles, speckling the once great square with spots of brown and yellow. On either side of their landing area were two strips of what had once been lush grass, now the lawns were empty patches of barren muck lined in with concrete. The stagnant wind carried the noxious tang of smoke from fires long-since petered out, mixed with the lingering bitter taste of methane released into the air with the great Global Warming from beneath the polar caps. The decayed plaza was flanked by once-grand buildings, on the left an off-white cuboid with formerly clean lines and shattered  perfectly spaced windows, poles with the tattered remnants of flags adorned its entrance. 

“We’d better get going.” The captain told his men. Into his earpiece - “, Where do we go from here?”
“West - Opposite the Prov, there’s a massive gate. Walk that way and you’ll come out on a junction.”
“Right. Come one guys, let’s fuck this party up,”

The team walked down the central walkway of the battered square, careful to avoid the potholes that had formed over time,

“It’s a mess,” Corporal Kaufmann started to Mbete
“Not half I mean imagine what it would have been like before we left.” She looked around ponderously as they continued to the pillared gate,
“The grandeur wouldn’t compare to Cassandra, or even Aelium – you know the capital of Hadrian – but I just don’t understand why they’d do this to themselves…” he continued, but he wasn’t listening. At the mention of Hadrian he was captivated, memories came flooding back, and Berlin was too much.

<i>Screaming women and children; burning buildings – the greasy smell of synth-oil tainting the air from a nearby plastics factory; Columns of smoke rising from the colonial parliament of the Human Confederacy’s second planet; the galaxy’s capital of culture, Hadrian had been take by surprise and it’s Governor was dead. The streets were lined with the bodies of dead janissaries and base humans alike, some in uniform, many civilians.

The zoom of strike craft, metres ahead, Pirate or Naval he couldn’t tell, they were moving at a speed the human eye was not designed to witness. A pirate destroyer in orbit was locked in a desperate battle with the confederate military, aided by the Providence. Using their superior manoeuvrability these pirate bastards had de-veiled NetherSpace next to the resident destroyer, obliterating its armour, reducing it to a smoking hulk. Providence, as well as a nearby military patrol had received Aelium’s NetherComm distress signal and Providence, as a vigilante privateer ship was sworn to help. 

“Captain, one of the pirates’ transports is taking off. We can intercept it before it reaches orbit – before it can veil. We’ve got plenty of EM slugs left” it was Commander Fu, his second; he’d left her to fight the raiders in space whilst he aided the ground troops.
“Blow it out the wa-</i>     

“Captain?” It was Mehrani who shook him out of the memory, he had his hand on his shoulder; he was feet behind the rest of the group, Mbete and Kaufmann had continued on towards the junction and were almost at the gate “, are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” Saul said, almost embarrassed,
“Are you sure, cap-”
“I’m fine.” It was final, he strode fast to catch up with the other two.                   


____Chapter 3_____


Xian was sat in the captain’s seat, on the left hand side of the upper half of the dingy control room, next to her was the commander’s override console, complete with secondary helm joysticks – their counterparts at the front of the bridge on the lower section. Buttons flickered blue, yellow and green to her touch as she assessed the status of the ship and whether it would need an overhaul and re-supply at their next stop, the naval yards in orbit of the barren Constant - the primary base for the CN as well as the home planet of Captain Saul Nasir O’Reilly.

There didn’t appear to be much activity on the planet; a disappointment really. The young Commander Fu had expected it to be like discovering a bustling lost city – from the old stories. It was actually quite boring.

“Commander,” a delicate female voice sounded from the scanner station she usually occupied when Saul was onboard – it was Amita du Champs. One of the youngest members of the crew – “the NetherComm antenna just powered up-” Xian jumped down from the upper platform and went to stand beside du Champs,
“I didn’t order any transmissions to be sent. Our next update’s due in three hours. Power it down, it’ll alert raiders.”
“I’m trying commander,” the young woman was furiously tapping at the display and various keys “, apparently I don’t have high enough clearance,”
“Try mine-”
“Too late. Whatever was sending’s been sent. Hmm, the only other console with antenna control is in the engine room.
“Where was it sent to; what did it say?”
“The message was encrypted but the recipient was a naval ship… Apparently the,” she paused nervously “, the CMV Sarum – Oh.”
“Shit. Get me every single engineer of the ship, now.”
__

O’Reilly and the trio of marines stood in font of the great stone gate, on a crescent of pavement, staring up and down the two roads which ran here, one running North-South past the plaza, around the crescent – the other joining perpendicular to the crescent. The west and south roads were lined with the twisted steel hulks of skyscrapers, massive high-rises – the smaller less efficient predecessors of the confederate built archologies on all human planets. To the north a crumbling stone building had long-since given way due to decay, time or perhaps as a result of fighting – its roof had caved in, and a once grand dome was now a twisted shell.

The two young janissaries had continued their conversation about the decaying city,
“…Is that the Brandenburg Gate? I recognise it from school.” A female voice sounded
“Yeah I think so.” Kaufmann agreed, looking up at the decrepit female figure atop the once opulently decorated neo-classical gate – her wreath had since fallen from her grasp and now lay corroded on the pavement “, I heard  that they based Mandela’s Arch on it, of course it’s a lot bigger…”

“Do they ever shut up?” Saul whispered to Mehrani who stood next to him, assessing the possible location of the bunker’s entrance,
“No – well, very rarely,” the marine smiled, his amber eyes shining slightly even in the grey light of the ancient city. Holding his rifle close to his chest he added“, tell them to be quiet if it bothers you captain. They won’t mind, they’re bound to your orders.”         
“I’m not a tyrant Franz…” the pair went quiet, “I’d better contact Xian.”

“Xian?” He pressed the button on his earpiece “, you there? We’re having trouble finding our little entrance; Commander Fu do you copy?”
“Yes, yes” a delayed hiss came - she sounded irate to say the least. “We’re having some… Problems. Someone’s sent a transmission. We tried to stop it but we were too late – a naval ship received it. But try not to worry about that - we’ll deal with it. Go north, towards the stone building with the dome, until there’s a right turning – the road’s pulled up into a ledge to cover the entrance. I’m picking up a slight electrical signal; there should be a com-” 
“Xian,” he interrupted, she was babbling – worried “, which ship received the message?”
She signed into her ear piece “, the Sarum.”
“Fucking great,” he spat, “find out who sent the message and castrate the bastard.”

The CMV Sarum was the ship of Captain Charlie Anderssen – O’Reilly’s rival since his training as an officer in the navy, O’Reilly had called the kid a fat bastard a few times - which he was – and he’d retaliated, disproportionately in Saul’s opinion by bringing up his dead father Captain Nasir O’Reilly, who’d died in battle retreating from a raider fleet in the borderlands -a sore point with Saul . They’d hated each other since, and it was much to Anderssen’s pleasure when Saul left the military. It was his even more fun for him to hunt the exiled captain down (and fail repeatedly) after what happened on Hadrian. But now he was assigned to the borderland patrol.

“Forget about that bastard,” he muttered to himself, rubbing his face in anguish “, he’d better not interfere, this is my mission.

“This way kids… And try to be a bit quieter, PLEASE!” He shouted after the three marines, and he set off down the road away from Brandenburg Gate.


____Chapter 4____


“Which one of you sent that fucking message? Eh?” She screamed, her voice so high it was barely audible “, which one of you thought it would be hilariously clever to betray the crew and the captain you’ve served and who’ve served you for the past three years?”

She’d assembled the five members of the engineering staff in the mess hall in front of the rest of the crew and was dressing them down in front of their colleagues – making an example of them; it had to be done. She didn’t like it, considering that four of them were undoubtedly and unquestionably innocent of betrayal. They were janissaries, all but one of them, unquestionably loyal to whoever was in supreme command of them – whoever held their pay cheques in this instance. Only one was a base human, and she knew which.

“But of course you’re all janissaries; you couldn’t betray Captain O’Reilly even if you wanted – you agreed to work for him.” She paced back and forth, pushing their backs further and further against the mess wall with each journey back and forth as she closed the distance between them and her, “except you Jani Carrel.”

“Because you aren’t a jano are you?” She stopped in front of a short, skinny man. Barely a hair’s breadth away from his face, she bent –her eyes burning into his, her dainty nose against his broken snout. His skin was dirty and greasy from working in the engine room and he was visibly frightened by his superior,
“I didn’t… I…” he stammered, in shock, but he gave in to her iron gaze “, he offered me 200,000 rand. It’s more than the share I’ve ever…”
“Greedy traitor!” He wrinkled his nose as she pulled her head back and spat in his face “, what did you tell Anderssen?”

There was a gasp from a few members of the assembled crew at the mention of his name – even if some of the crew didn’t particularly like Saul, she knew they all respected him. And they trusted him; as he trusted them. Informing for Anderssen was worse than any high-treason, because they were made up of people rejected by the rest of the confederacy; Saul had offered them shelter in exchange for service - for their loyalty. They knew he was a good man, all of them. Even if he had made mistakes, they knew he made them with the best intentions.

“I was paid to inform on the captain’s activities on his patrol route. He was suspicious,” he wiped the spit from his face and onto his greasy techs’ overalls “, he wasn’t sure whether Saul was on official business or whether he was causing trouble.”
“You will address a superior by his rank.”
The irate woman span around, pulling tucking her T-shirt back into her trousers; gesturing to two marines she ordered, “lock him in cargo section 2. Make sure the temperature is below twenty degrees centigrade. Everybody, get back to your stations.”
__

O’Reilly, Mehrani, and the two corporals were stood outside a raised section of the road held aloft by rusting steel struts. Underneath the road was a sealed grill leading into what was presumably a lift; it was rusted and battered and had a faint odour of synth-oil and solder. Wired into the wall was a computer interface, complete with a keypad, a telephone and a loud speaker. The computer still operated, even if it had a few cracks, the group was surprised by the fact that it still worked after two centuries. The elevator doors were flanked by two twisted sections of barricade – no doubt to provide a checkpoint for prospective ‘bunkerees’. Mbete and Kaufmann had taken cover behind the barricades – in case Anderssen, the asshole, decided to invite himself to their little party.

“Can you open it?” Saul asked Mehrani. He was next to useless with electronics, whereas Mehrani by nature was good with complicated problems.
“I think so… There’s a phone. We could just ask for entry?”
“I didn’t know you spoke German… Seeing that it hasn’t been an official language for about forty years.” 
“Fair enough Captain, but people from all over Europe fled here. There could be French or English speakers in there.” The sergeant said, correcting Captain O’Reilly
“Just open it Mehrani. I’m tired and hungry. I don’t care if you blow the door off.”

Saul sauntered away from the bunker, taking in the view of the half-standing stone building. Blocks of charred and crumbled marble – sections of which still glittered as it would have two hundred years ago now littered the pavement in front of the rear façade - a façade which once may have been amongst the most beautiful of this planet – a planet which in its own hubris had destroyed itself. Twisted silver and broken crystal were all that was left of the great dome which had stood astride the palace; it now lay eviscerated amongst the ruins of itself.

One hand to his ear, the other running through his now dusty mohawk he spoke, turning back to face the bunker,
“Xian, you copy?” he asked the air in front of him “, any news on the Sarum?”
“Yes, it’s just de-veiled in orbit.” came her reply.
__

“Try to stop him doing anything stupid, Xian. You know what an arse he is.” She nodded in agreement. They’d all had at least two years of experience with Captain Charlie Anderssen, enough to know that he didn’t really deserve a command.
“I’ll try.”

She sat there, nervous. The CMV Sarum was a destroyer; it had enough firepower to blow through the Providence’s armour as if it wasn’t there. The only advantage they had was manoeuvrability and speed, and that could be taken out with one show of the battleship’s EM mass drivers which not only disabled electronics near to their point of impact but carried enough impact energy to blow holes in the most durable of hulls.

Not that she expected Anderssen to shoot at them – they were officially on friendly terms, but if he really wanted to he could – claiming that he thought they were ‘causing trouble’, as Carrel put it, plus without taking off, the destroyer wouldn’t be able to aim properly with all the smog and radiation. 

“Commander Fu,” du Champs called from the lower level “, we’re receiving a transmission from the Sarum,”
“Activate the emitters,” she ordered; standing and leaning against the railing – closer to the holographic projection of the captain’s face which would soon appear.
           
The emitters burst to life, as before the beams of light shone – colliding and flickering, switching colour and shape. An image of a corpulent man in his early thirties appeared in the beam of light. He had cropped earth coloured hair which was thinning at the temples, his greasy skin, the colour of tan was creased at his eyes. His false smile was rimmed with a wispy moustache – all in all he was extremely plain. His fat neck was wrapped in red cotton adorned with two gold lines and a star – the mark of an officer and Captain of the Confederate Navy, and the immaculate white shoulders of his uniform as well as the bright lights and flashing buttons of his bridge shone through the hologram, contrasting with the dankness of the Providence’s bridge.

“Commander Xian, lovely to see you,” he beamed through clenched teeth “, can I speak with your Mr O’Reilly?”
“Firstly, my name is Commander Fu,” she corrected him, he raised one fat eyebrow “, secondly no you can’t. He’s indisposed - as you already know. We’ve locked Carrel in our cargo bay. You can have him back when we dock at Constant,” Xian grinned obligingly “, third of all Saul’s a Captain.”
“Oh dear,” he frowned “, you lot always were savages. Woe betide a man who wishes to repent his sins against society by aiding the authorities. Tell him the 200,000 rand are in his bank account. I’m afraid I’m going to have to send a team down to the surface. We can’t have a foreign society thinking that the rest of civilisation is run by pirates and mercenaries can we?”
“But-” she tried to interrupt the arrogant bastard,
“Tell Mr O’Reilly to expect us. Good day Miss Xian,” the balding captain turned away “, Oh, and he never attained the rank of captain. The hard work of a military man became too much long before that.” And the image became a pane of white light.

“Turn it off Amita,” the acting captain exhaled “, please.”



____Chapter 5____


“So can you open it or not?”
“Yes, I think so; I’ve found some kind of automated comm program. We select an option, the computer takes some pictures of us and they - if they’re in there - decide whether we gain entry or not happens,” The janissary informed his commander “, the only problem is that it’s in German, like you said.”
The captain smirked an ‘I told you so’ and walked away; he’d just found out about Anderssen sending a landing team down to Berlin and he wasn’t happy. Sarum’s shuttle buzzed past over head a few minutes ago, landing just south of where they were now, probably on the same plaza as the Prov, Saul swore to the marines that he could hear Charlie’s ‘fat laugh’ coming from it, taunting him with its self-righteous echo.

Mehrani finished tinkering with the keyboard; the display turned white and a menu appeared along with a speedy blue loading bar; an electronic female voice began spilling from the loudspeaker in what they presumed – few these days spoke anything other than English or Mandarin - to be German,
“Hallo aus dem Berlinerbunker. Wer sind Sie? Wählen Sie eine Option.” Two flashing boxes appeared on the menu, in the strange language.
“What the hell did that say?” the captain jumped at the too-loud too-harsh voice, cutting through the relative quiet like a dagger.
“I’m not sure,” the janissary scratched his chin where a faint five o’ clock shadow was forming on the olive of his skin, he added sarcastically “, I heard ‘option’. My guess is ‘select one’.”
O’Reilly smiled and shook his head at the soldier’s sarcasm, what was getting into him lately?

“I’ve made a selection; something about a ‘handle’ or something?”
“Are you sure it wasn’t ‘we’re trying to invade your little safe haven, please come and kill us?’” the captain raised an eyebrow cockily. 

But then the captain had heard voices, footsteps against the crunching tarmac, there were at least three sets of footsteps… And Anderssen’s ‘fat laugh’,
“Oh God,” Captain O’Reilly sighed to himself. Why had he come himself? He didn’t usually get out of bed on a morning except to shovel more lard into his face… And to run his ship of course, but still, it was something unusual. He was probably on the surface either to claim glory from being one of the first to set foot on Earth in years or to prove to Saul that he wasn’t the lazy bastard he was.

“Hello there Saul!” the large human called, barely making it around the steel struts before giving himself a fanfare “, a long time since we spoke isn’t it?”
“It’s been three months Anderssen, and I still haven’t got the taste out of my mouth.”
“Now, now Saul that was only once and you know it,” he winked at the innuendo “, you are ever the charming rogue, aren’t you?” He signed, cleaning his soft, manicured nails, “I bet you charmed the socks off all those good men at Hadrian… Right before you blew them out of the sky, didn’t you?” Saul’s fists balled up at the mention of the charges levelled against him after that fateful day; he stood, struggling to keep himself from raising his SMG to Charlie’s fat face, but the sarge saw him twitch with anger.

Franz held his hand up, signalling for Corporals Kaufmann and Mbete to aim. Captain Anderssen looked highly offended, raising his own arm lazily and without a thought; signalling his own men who were armed and armoured identically to Mehrani’s marines. They were intimidating, considering that everyone outside the bunker was likely to die should either captain give the order to fire. Anderssen loosened his own pistol which lay in its holster at his hip, lifting it carefully and aiming it directly at Saul’s armour-less cranium. The captain of the CV Providence just stood there, immobile and unarmed.

“Muzzle your hounds Saul,” his opposite commanded without a thought, though his arrogant tone serious “, I find that janissaries are extremely efficient at massacring each other, and base humans too. Let’s not have a blood bath; not when we should be celebrating the rediscovery of our ancestors’ home.” 
“I’m not a murderer Charlie,” Captain O’Reilly muttered also deathly adamant.
“That’s irrelevant. Your clemency shows that our superiors trust you, whatever happened at Hadrian, and afterwards. My opinion is not needed; now muzzle your hounds.”
“Stand down.” Saul ordered, and both lots of soldiers lowered there arms, safeties clicking back into place.

And at that exact moment, the lift began to clunk. Its metal grill retracted, ready to allow those inside to leave. The rusted cables began to spin on their wheels and a metal cage came into view, two thick metal doors, worn over time, obscured those inside from the onlookers. Captain Charlie Anderssen slithered to the side of O’Reilly. His red and white uniform trimmed with gold thread contrasting with Saul’s stahlsilk vest and worn camo trousers and boots.

The group of confederates stared into the shaft as the battered doors parted, a group of three emerging. Each was dressed in a rag-tag assortment of clothes - armour, ill fitting at best, and each wore a helmet – to protect them from the ‘noxious’ air.

The central figure stepped forward and asked Anderssen something in her foreign tongue – Identifying him as the leader by his decadent uniform. She repeated it,
“Sie befinden sich hier für den Handel?” she seemed taken aback by the group’s silence, looking around, she said to her companions “, Es ist nicht wie ein Händler.”
“We don’t speak German,” Mehrani chimed slowly, assessing her understanding of English, she jumped back at his use of another language,
“Sie sprechen Englisch!” She shouted, clearly surprised. In accented English, further distorted by her helmet she added “, why come this way? The tunnels link to the London Bunker, through Paris… You don’t sound British, you have odd accents,” she continued, almost to herself “, you don’t look British either.”

“Are you from Joburg?” She asked darkly whilst the two other Berliners looked at each other “Why did you come here; to gloat? Sie Bastarde;” She spat at the floor, pulling off her helmet, revealing a short head of yellow-gold hair. Her thin features were clearly young, and her skin looked so pale compared to their own. Her large brown eyes showed youth and inexperience but she seemed so old, so tired,

“We aren’t from ‘Joburg’,” Saul muttered, just audible enough for her to hear, she switched her gaze to him,
“But your clothes -” she gestured to Anderssen, confused, O’Reilly interrupted,
“Joburg, whatever that is, is in the same state as this place.”
“Then where-” she stopped herself, walking closer to Saul, examining his face, she stood for a moment while her chocolate eyes filled with tears and she whispered “, Mandela?”

The Captain nodded lightly, offering her a smile. She had recognised his ancestry, originating from all corners of this broken globe; an ancestry born of the stars during the Mandela’s trek to New Earth. She broke down in front of him – falling to her knees, the other Earth natives walked over and attempted to pull her away from Saul but she grabbed onto him, refusing to let go clinging to his oh-so -human legs and sobbing great tears into his filthy trousers. The other’s stood back and watched beneath their visors, unsure how to act. But then she began to pull herself up, using Saul’s sturdy body as a support.

“Mandela!” She boomed, her delicate throat emptying of its volumes of dusty air “,es ist vorbei!” And she enveloped Saul in a great hugs crushing him and taking him by surprise. “It is over!” she screamed with delight, her odd yellow locks dancing as she jumped on the spot.

Their struggle was over.