Hostile Planet

Chapter 3 – Brandon

Chapter 3 – Brandon

“Good to see you again, Sergeant,” Brandon Woods said.

“Just 'Jerry' is fine,” Jerry said. “We're not in the Volunteer Rifles anymore.”

“Right.” Brandon took a swig from his beer and then wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “I can't believe it's been nine years.”

“It still seems like yesterday to me.”

“Yeah. I know what you mean. Just sitting here with you, it feels like nothing's changed. Except for that hairline of yours. That's definitely changed.” He grinned.

“At least my face is still pretty,” Jerry said with a lofty look. “I don't have your frown lines.”

“What? I don't have frown lines. And your face was never pretty.”

“That's not what your mother said.”

Brandon laughed. “All right. You win.”

Jerry chuckled. “Just like old times, huh?”

“Yeah. Old times.” His mood became somber. “Old times and bad old days. War's not like they make it out to be in the movies. We lost a lot of good men, especially that day on Blackshoals.” He raised his beer. “To the ones who didn't make it.”

Jerry raised his bottle and tapped it against Brandon's. “To our honored dead.”

They both drank.

Brandon's eyes darted back and forth before settling back on Jerry's face. “I haven't talked to anyone about what happened,” he said in a low voice. “About what happened in the Artifact room, I mean.”

Jerry shrugged. “I don't even remember what happened.”

“Yeah, well, me neither, I guess. Not totally. But I haven't told anyone what little I do know. That's what I'm trying to say.” He took a gulp from his beer. “It's like a part of me won't let me talk about it. I can talk to you about it, since you were there, but no one else. It's weird.”

“I haven't said anything to anyone, either. And like I said: I'm not even sure what happened.” Jerry waited, but Brandon had become lost in thought. “So, uh...” Jerry sighed. “Look... it's not that it's not good to see you again, because it is, but what are you doing here? We haven't spoken in nine years. After the infirmary, you sort of disappeared. You wouldn't have dropped by my gig like this out of the blue without a really good reason. Something's up. So what is it?”

Brandon nodded. “Yeah, I'm here for a reason. I needed to talk to you. I've been doing a little research into the history of Blackshoals.”

Jerry's brows shot up. “You? Research? When did you learn to read? Next you'll be telling me you can tie your shoelaces all by yourself.”

Brandon grinned. “Yeah, yeah. Laugh all you want.” His grin faded. “But I'm serious. I want to know the truth of that place. Of the Artifact. I need to know.”

“Bad idea. The government won't like you prying into Commonwealth secrets.”

“I'm not doing anything illegal.” He leaned closer and lowered his voice to a whisper. “I made contact with someone who might know some things. A Paragon. I'm going to meet him.”

“A Paragon?” Jerry's brow furrowed. “Please tell me you're meeting him here and not on some Paragon planet.”

“I'm meeting him on Skytower.”

Jerry threw up his hands. “Breeder's name, Brandon!”

“It won't be a big deal.” Brandon jutted out his chin. “I can handle myself. I did kill a Harowaith once, you know.”

“I know.” You got lucky, he didn't add. “And I'll always owe you for saving my life. But it's—”

“I don't want you to owe me. I just want you to go with me.”

Jerry gaped. “Go with you? To Skytower?”

“Sure. Let's meet this guy together.” Brandon's eyes sparkled, as if he was already relishing the thought of a new adventure. “It'll be like old times. Like we're Riflemen again.”

“I don't want to be a Rifleman again. I've got War Strain, remember? I'm trying to put those 'old times' behind me. The last thing I want to do is relive them.”

Brandon's face darkened. “Maybe coming here was a mistake.”

“Look...” Jerry put his forearms on the table and leaned forward. “I understand your curiosity. I really do. There's something special about that place, and not being able to go back there makes it frustrating. But some mysteries are better left buried, especially if they involve going to a hostile planet like Skytower.”

“Skytower's not that hostile...”

“It's the capital world of the Paragon Hierarchy.” Jerry looked him in the eye. “And you're an Agrarian. An outsider. I know the Ealdorman wants us to open up relations with the Paragons, but that's still a work in progress. For now, any Paragon planet is a dangerous place for people like us, and that goes double for Skytower. Please tell me you'll reconsider. Meet this man someplace else. Invite him here. Or to Oakland. Or Sandstorm. Wherever. Any Commonwealth world will do. Or communicate via cross-space. There's no good reason to actually go to Skytower.”

“He'll only talk with me there.” Brandon shrugged. “He was pretty firm about it.”

“Then that should tell you something.”

Brandon was silent for a moment. “All right. Maybe you're right. I'll see if there's another option.”

Jerry practically deflated with relief. “Thank you. You're doing the right thing. I know you want answers, but Skytower's not the place to get them.”

* * *

The next day, Jerry was back at his day job. He pushed the lawnmower across the final uncut part of his landlady's front yard. He stopped, surveyed his work, and then shut the motor off. He walked up to the front door and was about to ring the bell when movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention.

He turned and looked. There was an unfamiliar man there, peeking out from behind a hedge. He was Agrarian, elderly, and had a wild look in his eye that suggested diminished faculties. His clothes were strange, as if from a different era. He must have noticed Jerry looking at him, because he ducked behind the hedge. Jerry jogged over to where the man had stood. He turned the corner, but no one was there. The man had disappeared.

Jerry looked around for another moment, but there was no trace of the mysterious onlooker. After a few seconds, he shrugged, returned to the porch, and rang the bell.

Miss Carpenter opened the door. She was in her sixties, and the years had wrinkled her gray skin. A Reliant by blood, she had the usual androgynous features of her Breed. Her clothes, though, were Homesteader, and always had been. The Reliants of the Mentarchy wore drab uniforms, so Miss Carpenter wore colorful dresses and skirts as a way of setting herself apart. Her gray hair fell to the middle of her back, and she had never worn it short—it was another way of separating herself from the Mentarchy. She gave Jerry a big smile. “All done?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Come on in, then. I've got some fresh lemonade waiting for you.” She turned and walked towards the living room.

“Aw, Miss Carpenter,” Jerry said, trailing behind her. “You didn't have to go to any trouble.”

“No trouble at all.” She sat on the sofa and poured herself a glass of lemonade.

Jerry sat in the chair on the other side of the coffee table and poured his own glass.

“So how's Laurie?” she asked. “That's her name, right? I can't remember things the way I used to. But from what you've told me she sounds like a nice girl.”

“She is a nice girl,” Jerry said with a nod. He took a sip of lemonade. “Unfortunately, she left me.”

“She what?”

“She couldn't handle my War Strain anymore.”

“Oh, Jerry. I'm so sorry.” She looked pained for a moment, but then perked up. “Well, you can do better anyway.”

Jerry smiled, but didn't say anything. He couldn't do better, and they both knew it. Miss Carpenter was just being polite. His mind drifted back to the man he had seen. “By the way...” He set his glass on the coffee table. “I saw a man outside, but I didn't recognize him. Do you have any new neighbors or tenants I don't know about?”

“I don't think so. What did this man look like?”

“Agrarian. At least your age, I think, though he might have been older.”

“That's not much to go on.”

“I know. But this fellow wasn't from around here. His clothes were weird. Nothing like what we wear. He might have been from another Commonwealth planet. Or maybe even an independent settlement.”

“That's possible. The Agrarians on the frontier worlds have some strange customs.” She pursed her lips. “Don't know what one of them would be doing on Homestead, though, and especially in an out-of-the-way place like east Stonefell County.” She grinned and shook a finger at him. “And I've been here long enough to know just about everyone in the county. Half of them have been my tenants at one time or another.” She gave him a kindly smile. “I was never prouder of a tenant, though, than on the day you joined the Volunteer Rifles. In some ways, you're like the son I could never have.”

Jerry felt his cheeks warm, and he smiled at the compliment. “That's kind of you to say.” He lowered his head and sighed. “I just wish things had turned out differently. I wish...”

“You wish Blackshoals had never happened. You wish your life hadn't been derailed.”

He nodded.

She gave him a sympathetic look. “Everything happens for a reason. You just have to believe that and do the best you can with your life. The Breeder made the Breeds for a reason, and we're happiest when we use our distinctive gifts in positive ways. Have faith in the Breeder's plan.”

Jerry kept his face politely impassive. She was a believer and a church-goer, but he was more of an agnostic, and he was never quite sure how to respond to stuff like that. He stood. “Well, I need to be going. Thanks for the lemonade. If you find out anything about that stranger, please let me know. And keep your eyes open while coming and going from the house. Something about that fellow rubbed me the wrong way, and I wouldn't want anything to happen to you.”

“I will. And don't worry about me. I can take care of myself.” She stood and walked him to the door.

“And I want to see you at one of my gigs one of these days.”

She laughed. “I'll try to make it. Managing my properties takes a lot of time, though. No promises.”