The Return

By David Lee Short

The colonists return to Earth after 300 years. Things are vastly changed. They are treated differently in different locations. A mysterious creature changes their plans forever.

• Language: English
• Publisher: David Lee Short
• Release date: Aug 12, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005059071

David Lee Short

I was born at an early age (OK, age is just a number; mine is unlisted) in Kualakapuas, a Dayak village in Central Kalimantan on the island of Borneo. My parents were missionaries–McGregor Scotts by ancestry, Americans by birth. At the time, Kalimantan was ruled by the Netherlands and known to foreigners as the Netherlands East Indies. Shortly after my birth, a Japanese invasion appeared imminent; we all returned to the United States. We waited out World War II in Springfield, Missouri where my father wrote and edited for the Gospel Publishing House. After the war, we returned to Borneo and lived in the coastal city of Banjarmasin. The way back was long and hard; civilian transportation was still very limited, and while the Army Air Corps would fly us on a space-available basis, very little space was available. We waited 3 months in Adelaide, South Australia, and another 3 months on the island of Ambon in the Moluccas, or Spice Islands. By the grace of God, none of the Japanese munitions I collected from the Ambon beaches exploded. I did, however, develop a fondness for mangos that has never left me. After Borneo, we lived outside Manila, the Philippines, where my father helped build the Far East Broadcasting Company. My father never had a slow button, and after just more than a year, he collapsed from exhaustion. Our ship docked in Burbank, California on December 20–it snowed 6 inches just for our benefit. We didn’t own so much as a long-sleeved shirt.Although I wrote in school, fighting wars and raising babies caused me to set it aside for some years. While snowbound for a week at our Wisconsin home, I decided to write a short story to pass the time. A little more than 100,000 words later, the novel Pastime came to be. The noted author of spy novels, David Hagberg, mentored me for a while. His judgment, correct as always, was that Pastime was a mixed genre; it is Earth-bound science fiction but has whole chapters where no sci-fi takes place. Just to prove I had it in me, I wrote The Devil and Omorti’s Circle, an off-world novel that expands on some of the alien races introduced in Pastime, and has a few of its own. There are now four novels in that series and a spinoff. A Level-Three Correction is a short story that further develops two of the alien races of earlier works. I wrote it to see if I could write a piece that had no slow passages. I give it a B+, but you may judge for yourself. Alaya is a departure for me. Fantasy, rather than hard science fiction, it’s Swords and Sorcery without the sorcery. It too has sequels and a spinoff.I currently live 6200 feet up the side of Colorado’s Grand Mesa and love it.

Book preview

Preface

Earth had struggled under the hand of a dictator, the second in the secession of absolute rulers of the entire planet. Both had opposed any display of religious faith, but the first strove mainly to put all resistance under his feet. The second focused on religion with a vengeance. Events began to transpire that more or less followed predictions in the last book of the Christian Bible. Two men on the streets of Jerusalem, prophesying doom—earthquakes, heat, an algae bloom that killed most fish and rendered most of the water supply undrinkable. Man’s attention was held by the effort at survival; the comet caught them by surprise. It struck the ocean near the north coast of Australia, a mass of rock and iron boulders traveling together like pellets from a shotgun. Its impact vaporized earth and sea, leaving a crater more than 160 kilometers across. A tsunami such as the planet had never seen started across the Pacific. The Earth’s crust fractured and shifted. Earthquakes in the magnitude 15 range ripped around the Pacific Rim. The quakes shattered rock and liquefied soil. Entire mountain ranges collapsed to nothing more than ragged plains, or simply slid into the sea. The shock ruptured the Mid-Atlantic Ridge setting up tsunamis that matched those in the Pacific.

As the tsunamis reached land, they stood as high as two kilometers and continued inland for great distances. Old fault lines sheared, opening new seas.

Sixty-five percent of the Earth’s population died in a day.

Hundreds of new volcanoes began to spew ash and poison into the air.

Outright famine began almost immediately. There had not been enough food for months, but now, a substantial percentage of the land still under cultivation was mud and trash. Places like the wheat fields of Manitoba were untouched, and producing bumper crops under the warmer skies, but the transportation system lay in ruins.

Diseases, both the ancient ones and several previously unknown to mankind, swept every corner of the world. The other sentient races in the known galaxy quarantined the planet. Even Earth’s own colony on a planet they called Eden was unable to help.

Part One

Newpeg

Chapter 1

Dak O’Neal opened his eyes and listened to the world. That portion of his mind permanently linked to nearly every other human on Eden, and occasionally to the indigenous folk as well, gathered the news and the mood of the planet in an instant. The private part danced in excitement, partly because he hadn’t seen his great-great-grandfather in more than two years, and partly because he had lobbied so hard for this project.

In the personal room, he voided his bowels. He stood still while his personal system renewed his skin, cleaned his teeth, and maintained his hair.

He was a young 58, stood a full 153 cm, with green eyes and red hair he got from his great-great-grandmother, may she rest in peace. He had not materially changed since he was 17.

He considered skipping breakfast; he was running on adrenaline. Instead, he consciously dialed back his adrenal medulla and fixed a bowl of mixed-grain cereal with fruit. His appointment wasn’t for another hour. Although not fond of clothes, he pulled on a shiny gold jumpsuit and slippers appropriate for such a formal meeting.

At the appointed time, he spoke aloud, Port to Terrance O’Neal. A false doorway in his living room shimmered as though superheated. He walked into the shimmer and vanished.

He stepped out of a doorway half a planet away. His ancestor’s receptionist was a Companion named Fe in honor of his great grandmother—who had been less than impressed at the time. She had been one of a tiny minority that still thought fully humanoid androids were a bad idea.

Morning, Fe, is he at peace? It was a formality—a pro forma greeting drawn from the indigenous folk. He had read his grandfather’s mental state this morning from his permanent link. Although he didn’t share his grandmother’s disapproval of Companions, he still thought that telepathic communication with a system, any system, was…odd. Only Companions could do it. He was getting used to it—one of his team was a Companion. The very first Companion, to be exact.

Fe, of course, knew how he felt, but chose to mind her own business. He is at peace, and ready for you. Please go right in.

President Terrance O’Neal stood behind a carved wooden desk with a top that slanted down toward him. The desktop was a control screen, edge to edge. His walking staff, capriciously named Chief of Staff, rested in a pair of brackets on the wall behind him. Chief had been his symbol of authority for centuries, again drawn from the indigenous folk for whom Staff Bearer was synonymous with Supreme Leader. President O’Neal’s size was unaffected by Eden's higher gravity; at 183 cm, he towered over Dak. He was a trim 81 kg, with chestnut brown hair and blue eyes.

Terrance, his staff, and his desk comprised the executive branch of the three-branch government. Although Dak knew his ancestor’s age to be 437, his unchanging body looked 30—younger than it looked when he first arrived on Eden. He was the oldest living human anywhere. His body was largely prosthetic, of course, the result of combat wounds. Not many people currently alive understood the concept of combat. The mind that had been a prodigy physicist at age 15 had not suffered from age.

Good morning, Father. Are you at peace?

Good morning, Dak. I am indeed, thank you. Are all of you ready?

One cannot plan for the unknown, but we have done what we can. We all have high hopes and spirits. The rest is in God’s hands.

All of this was a formality. What followed was not. Terrance sat, and pressed control spaces on his desk; two men appeared next to the desk. They were holographic but looked perfectly real and solid.

Charlemagne towered over Dak—his image stood a full two meters and then some. Dak knew he was a Control system that was no more than a large, black cylinder buried deep in the solid stone of the ancient Andorran installation they called Site 1, but this was the only image that ever came to mind—a stern, bearded face from ancient Europe. He was the justice branch of the government and in charge of security.

Good morning, young man. I have reviewed your training records and have deemed you as ready as you will ever be, God help us.

It never occurred to Dak to question the reference to God from a manufactured biomechanical entity that had no concept of a higher power.

The other image was shorter—still taller than Dak, with olive skin, and a broad face. His eyes bore an epicanthic fold. He was Sun Tzu, the only other Control known to still exist in the universe. He was the administrative branch.

You understand we no longer have communication, let alone diplomatic relations, with Earth. You will be on your own. In the event of an emergency, the soonest we could send help would be five hours, and that assumes that you have access to working subspace equipment.

Are you trying to talk us out of this?

You know I have been against it from the beginning. This is not the Earth of your ancestors. We have no idea what may have developed since the apocalypse.

Dak was tempted to feign surprise but didn’t. He and his team had been through all this for more than a year. We plan to leave first thing in the morning unless anyone objects.

The old man simply said, Go with God. He spoke it aloud for the benefit of the two Controls, but he also said it in the public part of his mind. Except for the handful of deaf folk, all 250,043 humans on Eden heard it.

*****

The ship was small and externally virtually featureless. It was designed to be easily concealed, and if that failed, to be an impenetrable fortress. It was an irregular cylinder, 20 meters in length, with a diameter that varied from five to seven meters depending on where one measured. It was mottled shades of gray and black. It carried a Transport, a version of the same system that had taken him from his apartment to the government building in one stride. It was the only way in or out of the ship—no opening pierced the hull at any point. Even the four stubby legs that allowed it to rest level on the rough ground were simply fused to the outside of the hull.

Besides the Transport, the ship carried a Pilot, a Welder, and a Comm. Charlemagne had wanted to include a Tactical, but Dak would not hear of it. We are not going there to conquer, had been his only reply. He had used the line often enough. In the end, they reached a compromise. The ship carried a charged-particle cannon that could only be fired through a portal created by Transport. Everyone rested in the knowledge that, should the need arise, Welder could make almost anything, except another system.

Dak arrived first with an insulated pot of ishok, the thick, bitter drink that was slowly supplanting coffee among the colonists. Moments later Charu arrived on foot. She had dark skin—she had been built to look like the East Indian woman of the same name. She was petite by ancient standards, although still taller than Dak, not beautiful, but attractive. She was the only Companion on the team and the only team member that remembered Earth as it once was. That aside, she was there for her great strength and agility, and her ability to crunch numbers. She spurned the ishok, and said, Transport, entrance. A portal shimmered beside the ship, and she popped through.

Less than five minutes later, the other two team members walked through a portal together. Froinn Macinnis was even shorter and sturdier than Dak. While his skin was no darker than Dak’s, his forehead had a low ridge that ran from his eyebrows up into his hairline. It was the last vestiges of his Andorran great-great-grandfather. At 23, he was the youngest. He walked hand in hand with Linet Condon whose ancestor had once piloted the ship that brought the original colonists to Eden. She was only a year his senior.

They had brought coffee and stood on the mossy, plush-carpeted ground while they sipped it. They looked at the forest half a kilometer to the west and could not hide the feeling that this could be their last glimpse of their home planet. None of them voiced it, publicly or locally, but it was there, locked away in their private minds. When the coffee was downed, they turned as one and walked through the portal into the ship they had all christened Pilgrimage.

Dak said, Pilot put us in Earth orbit; this is not a drill. He went aft to his tiny cabin and sprawled on his bunk. His mind turned briefly to a woman that would be delighted if he didn’t go. He liked her, maybe even loved her, but this mission was important. She would still be there when he returned.

In a few minutes, he felt the ship enter the bend in space that would shorten the journey from the fifty-odd years the original colonists had endured in stasis, to the slightly under five hours it would take their modern ship. "Comm, open Kingdom of Haearith. The book he was currently reading displayed on a panel over the bed, open to where he was reading when he put it away two days ago.

*****

Four and a half hours later, Dak finished the book and wandered out to the main salon that also served as a bridge. With the infinite patience of a system, Charu sat in one of the four cushioned chairs that surrounded a table in the center of the room. Are you excited to return to Earth? He could read her mind, but she had few emotions to show.

I have only been to Earth once, briefly, she replied. I only have my namesake’s memories of the planet. I am curious, nothing more.

Every indication is that we won’t see anything that will match your memories.

She replied, The human, Charu, was born in Punjab. It is high country, far from any sea. The people there are used to hardship. I would be surprised if things in regions like that have changed all that much.

A chime sounded, announcing their imminent exit from the bend. And then they were there. Froinn and Linet appeared from their shared cabin.

The viewscreen looked forward by default, but it was not a window. It occupied a section of wall a third of the way back from the end of the ship that served as the bow. It currently showed a field of stars, overlaid with a map of their environs.

As planned, they were hidden from Earth—in the shadow of the moon.

Comm, what communications are you reading? Dak shifted his backside in the chair.

None.

Nothing?

I have scanned the spectrum up through microwave. Unless they are using tight-beam lasers, they are not communicating farther than sound will travel.

Well, at least we shouldn’t have to hide our descent. Turn on the camouflage, and let’s go take a closer look.

The hull surface changed to reflect the view from the far side of the ship. In effect, the ship vanished from anyone looking. An electronic search would still have found them.

They rounded the moon and started what seemed to them to be down. All humans think of approaching any planet as down.

The landmasses did not exactly correspond to the maps they had, and the two major oceans were closer in size to each other.

As the night side approached, they searched for lights. The planet no longer glistened, but there were lights—dim and scattered, but there. Mankind had not vanished from the planet that spawned it.

The equator was patched with vast deserts. At lower altitudes, they could see the occasional light in isolation, but clearly, the current population was what had traditionally occupied deserts—small, nomadic bands.

Dense jungle transitioning to deciduous forest largely occupied a band north of 30° north to about 15° north. A similar band existed in the southern hemisphere. The North Pole was open water. Antarctica was partially forested, with a few ice packs scattered here and there, but almost no human life.

They went in search of Charu’s Punjab but could not find it. The subcontinent was there but not as pointed as it should have been. The Himalayas, their best landmark, were not there, although a wide expanse of broken rock and badlands marked an area that might have been mountains at one time. After an hour, they gave up.

They lifted from the atmosphere and flew northwest until the coast of North America crept around the curve. It, too, had radically changed. A new body of water now stretched north from the Gulf of Mexico and joined Lake Superior. North and South America were no longer joined by a land bridge.

The Sierra Nevada range was completely gone, washed into a plain, and now forested. The remnants of the Rocky Mountain range began to appear north of a line that appeared to be the limit of one or more tsunamis. It was hard to tell from the old maps just how far north that was.

They had yet to hear any broadcast, nor had they been painted by any sort of a search beacon. As the line of darkness once again crept across the continent, pockets of light appeared. They were still dim—probably not electrified—but some covered relatively large areas.

A pervasive gloom lifted a little from the four. These were cities, small ones, but they were humans gathering together in a social bond. It implied laws and the gentler trappings of civilization.

They picked one near what might have been Winnipeg if the vague outline of Lake Superior and Lake of the Woods could be counted on to have not moved. A stream that might have been the Red River ran to the east of them.

Chapter 2

They nestled the little ship among willows. Thin green stems overhung the gravel bed of a seasonal creek whose banks rose two meters above a tiny trickle of water that would eventually empty into the larger stream. With camouflage turned on, one could have walked along the bank and not detected the ship.

They waited until nightfall and then had Transport deposit them several meters from a well-worn dirt road. Clear of the portal, they stood perfectly still and scanned the area for thought patterns.

There were exactly two. Not ten meters behind them, a young couple hidden in a clump of bushes were engaged in foreplay. Nothing short of a thunderbolt would have distracted them.

Dak thought, Be fruitful, multiply and replenish the earth.

They started walking in the direction of the lights. None were yet in sight, but Charu’s navigation training would mark their course within an arm’s span no matter where they went. In seconds, they were on the road.

Not many meters down the road the first light came into view. It was yellow in color; it was too far to tell anything further about it. Just then, they encountered another mind.

This was a grown man, and he was tense. He was hiding behind a large live oak tree that encroached on the roadbed a little, and he was armed.

Charu was the designated searcher, mostly because the stigma attached to that function bothered her not at all. Snooping around in the private section of other people’s minds was a cardinal sin, but one that sometimes needed committing.

She reached out and began at the surface. He was Arnald Gardyner, 37, and single. He was a traveler and a highwayman. Home was far to the east. He carried a longbow, and a thin sword, and considered himself a free spirit. Just now, the bow rested against the rough trunk of the oak, and the sword hung in a leather scabbard on his left hip. He listened intently but had not yet heard them.

The language in his head was mostly a variation of English with a little French, and something unknown thrown in. She spent five minutes studying the language, and then passed it on to the other three.

Without a word, they separated, Dak and Charu on either side of the road, and Linet and Froinn similarly placed a few paces back. When they were within ten meters of the tree, Dak called out, "Ho, Arnald, caché you are not. Leave the bow."

To the man’s credit, he had his bow in his hand with an arrow nocked and half drawn when he stepped out from behind the oak two seconds later. He was dressed in leather breeches with a homespun shirt and tight tunic confined at the waist by a belt, from which the sword hung. He was bareheaded. Who be’ya, and how know you my name? I know nothing of dwarfs. Speak quickly now, or never again.

Charu was the closest to him. She lengthened her stride but didn’t hurry.

I’d as soon shoot a woman, think you not.

Her stride never varied.

At about three meters, he let the arrow fly directly at her chest.

She deftly caught it in her right hand. The triangular metal point stopped no more than a centimeter from her left breast.

He gasped, but managed to drop the bow, and draw the sword before her hand closed around his forearm like an iron vice. I’ll break it, think you not.

He dropped the sword and stood perfectly still. "A black witch and three dwarfs! Sacré Dieu. Where’d I sin?"

Charu reverted to the English of her friends. You don’t count robbing travelers as sin?

Boychild needs to eat.

And the five you have left in the road to die, they didn’t?

The man wet himself.

Just sit, and don’t move. She pushed him against the oak. He slid to a sitting position, his legs straight out in front of him and a stunned look on his face.

The four of them sat in silence, cross-legged in a semicircle around him.

This man should not live, Charu opined without a trace of emotion.

Dak came back, Perhaps not, but let’s see what he knows about this place. Then we can decide.

The town just beyond was Newpeg, confirming that this was the site or at least the general area of Winnipeg. His knowledge of the town was limited. He had bought food in the common market and burgled two houses in the better part of town, but he knew no one. His language and dress identified him as a stranger, and automatically put him under suspicion.

They studied the language and dress of Newpeg, knowing that they were hearing in part and seeing only slightly better. They got a good layout of the market, but the rest of the map was sketchy.

After twenty minutes, the fear level in the man’s mind had risen to the point that further search was fruitless.

Charu said, I will break his neck; it is better than he deserves.

Linet said, We are not his judge. It would bother me if our first act on Earth were to kill a man.

He is a thief and a murderer. We would be improving the gene pool.

Without waiting for more debate, Dak said, If you ever rob another human, I will send the witch to kill you. In your heart, you know she will find you.

Then, kill me now. No other living have I.

Dak stood, and removed two small, unmarked gold disks from a pocket. Take these. Go home and learn an honest trade.

Arnald stood slowly; not quite sure he understood. He took the coins, a small fortune to someone of his estate, and reached for his weapons.

Leave them; just go.

He stepped cautiously between the tree and Froinn and moved down the road away from the town. As he left, his pace quickened until he was at a dead run.

Dak picked up the weapons, and said, Transport, port to the ship. The familiar shimmer appeared beside the oak, and they walked through.

*****

We’ll see that one again. Charu was not angry; it was just a statement.

You literally scared the pee out of him. I can’t imagine him ever passing that tree again.

Charu set about loading the mental images of the locals shopping in the market into a file Welder could use.

Dak said, Pilot, designate the town as Newpeg. Do scanning passes at one hundred meters, both high resolution visual and earth-penetrating. Start as soon as there is sufficient light. I want to know every street, building, and basement in the town.

Working. Estimate light in two hours twenty-three minutes. Scan time from that altitude is approximately three hours.

As they waited, they worked on their accent. All of them were glad they didn’t have to reproduce Arnald’s odd mixture.

After about an hour, Welder delivered four sets of clothing. The three humans wore clothing suitable for household servants. The men wore loose leather pants, and boots, with a natural linen tunic complete with stains. A leather belt supported a simple knife and a purse.

Linet wore a simple sleeved linen tunic dress with a laced vertical slit at the bodice. Linen hose cased her legs, and she wore soft brown boots. A simple kerchief covered her head.

Charu played the role of the lady of the house. Her dress was similar to Linet’s, but of much finer stuff, dyed light green and carefully pressed. The borders and hems were richly decorated with embroidery. She wore an emerald necklace on a gold chain and had an ornate dagger on a chain at her waist. She covered her head with a dark green scarf held in place with a woven leather band around her forehead. It was wealthy, but not overdone.

Having dressed, and checked everything against the images in Charu’s mind, the humans had a good breakfast. Charu simply sat. The humans fretted at her inactivity and envied her peace.

At first light, the ship lifted from the streambed on its own and moved towards the town at 100 meters altitude. There was no sound, and anyone looking up would have seen only blue sky and puffy clouds. If one knew where to look, and watched carefully, there would have been a slight blurring around the outline of the ship. Detection was unlikely.

Despite knowing that the complete survey would be instantly available to any of them, they watched the viewscreen as well-swept, dirt streets moved under them. The market was close to one edge of the town, a sea of canvas and rude thatched booths nearly half a kilometer on a side.

Houses ranged from mud-walled hovels to two-story painted houses of sawn boards. Nearly all had roofs thatched with wheat straw. There were no basements. The penetrating scans showed a network of tunnels that ran out beyond the edge of the town, and beyond the scan.

What do you think? Dak asked openly.

The other two humans lifted their hands, their equivalent of a shrug. Charu said I think they are old—storm drains or the like. These people are not advanced enough to bore tunnels. They may not even know of their existence. So far, I haven’t seen an opening or a clear intersection with a building foundation.

She walked to the screen, studied it for a moment, and then said, Transport, a port to the tunnel at this point. Her finger rested on the largest of the subterranean outlines. The port shimmered, and she vanished. The others were close on her heels.

Dak produced a light stick. The tunnel was easily five meters across, concrete, presently dry as a desert, but crumbling with age. The roof was arched, with scars where spalling had stripped the concrete away exposing reinforcing bars. The floor had a narrow channel running down the middle about a meter wide and 30 cm deep.

Storm drain. She said in a matter-of-fact tone. She turned and walked briskly toward the marketplace. After 94 meters on her internal map, they reached a side tunnel not much more than a meter wide by two high. Within a few meters, dirt blocked the tunnel completely.

It took no more than ten minutes to determine that the residents above had never accessed these tunnels. Other than the tunnels themselves, there was no manmade object. In silent agreement, they returned to the portal and stepped through to the ship.

They watched the map develop on the screen. The major tunnel they had followed, crossed one of comparable size not far beyond the market. Smaller tunnels defined a rectangular pattern that resembled streets.

This was part of Winnipeg, probably a residential district since there are no deep foundations. Again, Charu was simply stating a fact.

The survey completed; the ship returned to the creek bed. It was clear that Newpeg sat over a vast system of storm drains. They had no way of knowing its condition.

They had all been up for just over 24 hours. The humans gratefully found food and beds. Charu sat quietly in her cabin and traced every detail of the new map.

The next morning, they dressed in their new clothes. Charu had picked an arrival point, a clump of rough sumac at the edge of town closest to the market. She had three small piles of coins on the table, mostly copper and zinc. Gold will not work for small purchases. I had Welder make some of the common coinage. Transport, open a portal to the arrival point.

The three scooped up their coins, and all of them stepped through the port. Five minutes walking brought them to the first cross street, a residential neighborhood of modest wooden houses with the ubiquitous thatch roofs. The sun was just peeking over the plains, but several folks were out and about. All stopped to stare.

Another five minutes and they reached the road that formed the boundary of the marketplace. The market was already a beehive. Row on row of colorfully dressed vendors hawked everything from fruit to furniture, meat to clothing. Housewives shopped for the day’s food. Children scurried underfoot.

Per the pattern they had agreed upon, Charu took the lead, looking stately, while Dak and Froinn followed, one step behind, and one on each side. Linet brought up the rear. People parted to let them pass. They moved along one of the rows; Charu stopped to examine some article from time to time.

All of them took the mental temperature of the market. It was mostly what they had expected. There is a friendly competition to haggling, and that was the base that lay under the entire market. Closer in, it was replaced