The Baba Yaga (24 page)

O
N SPRING MORNINGS
like this, when the sun was not yet high in the sky and there was still some coolness in the air, Shel Feuerstein would leave her home and walk out beyond the walls of the settlement, past the farmed fields, and out into the low red hills. This morning she left unusually early, as she had done for the past week, a fact she knew had not gone unnoticed in her long-house, but which had not troubled her unduly. Born and bred on Stella Maris, Feuerstein was not in the habit of defending her actions to anyone. Yes, there would be comments from her peers and her elders that her wanderings seemed to be starting earlier as the days grew longer, but, for the past week, Feuerstein had resisted giving any explanation. Every morning she went out, and every afternoon she returned, and she devoted herself to her tasks, and deflected questions, and wondered what the next day would bring.

Today she walked up into the hills again, as she had done every day this week, and she sat on the hillside by the source of a clear little brook, and she watched the sky. And today brought what she had been waiting for.

She heard it first as a rush of engines from far behind her, up along the valley. Jumping to her feet, she scrambled around the hillside, until she was looking north and west. And there it was, about two miles away, she guessed, creating a huge red dust storm as it came down: a ship descending from the heavens. Feuerstein watched it land, and watched the dust settle. Then she saw the hatch open, and some of the crew come out. She nodded to herself—she had been expecting this—but part of her watched what was happening with a deep sense of regret, and fear. This ship was bringing the oldest kind of enemy: conflict, violence, anger, aggression. Everything that the people of Stella Maris had been able to avoid, all these years. But now, Feuerstein knew, they would no longer be able to avoid any of it, no matter what they might tell themselves. The people of Stella Maris had fallen out of step with the rest of the settled universe years ago. Now that universe was coming to see them, and their world would never be the same again.

Feuerstein followed the little brook home. The countryside softened as she drew closer to the settlement. Grass began to grow, and then came the tilled, managed land that lay beyond the wooden stockade. The gate stood open, as it always did, but, as she passed through, Feuerstein made sure that the habits of the first settlers still remained in place, and that the gate could quickly be closed and barred. No real threat had come to Stella Maris for a very long time, but runaway slaves valued their peace of mind, and often looked back over their shoulder. The settlement would be defended.

She did not go back at once to her long-house. She had duties at the far end of the settlement, where one of the old wells was being shored up, so she spent a few hours with the work party and then took a dip in the cold pond. It was late afternoon by the time she reached home. Work on the evening meal was already underway, and she joined her co-habitants in the preparations. Each of the long-houses in the settlement was home to fifteen or twenty people, of all ages, and both species. The peoples of Stella Maris mingled freely, and while some houses might be predominantly human or predominantly Vetch, there was not a house with fewer than three or four of the other kind. There were very few places in the settled worlds where humans and Vetch lived together so peaceably, and the people of Stella Maris were rightly proud of this. Everywhere else, as far as they knew, humans and Vetch were hostile, except as need demanded. Here, however, there was little in the way of dispute—as ever, the mood was calm and quiet, but Feuerstein could sense the air of concern among her housemates, and she knew there were many questions.

After the meal, the people of the long-house settled to their evening tasks: mending, fixing, playing, thinking, and sleeping. When the smallest were at last asleep, Feuerstein consulted her friends and fellow residents.

“The ship is here,” she said. “There is a decision coming.”

As she expected, the group was disquieted. They looked around each other, each of them understanding that something significant—and possibly divisive—was about to happen.

“The others will want to turn their backs,” Feuerstein remarked. “They will want to send them back where they came from.”

One of the group, a Vetch, older than many present, said, “Perhaps that might be for the best. We have a good life here. Why should others be allowed to disturb it?” One of the adolescents, speaking for the first time, disagreed. “We can’t remain sealed off forever! There’s a whole universe out there!”

The floodgates were opened. Others joined in to agree, or to disagree. There was a confusion—but not a clamour or a conflict—of voices. After a little while, during which many people spoke all at once, and which might have seemed to an outsider to be an uncontrolled discussion, the furore began to subside. All the ideas had now been given an airing. A decision was going to be made.

Feuerstein, as the instigator of the discussion, and as one known to hold a particular opinion, spoke next. “Many in this long-house, and in other long-houses, were born here on Stella Maris,” she said. “But that is not true of all of us.” As she said this, she glanced towards some of the older habitants, sitting and listening quietly. “For them,” she went on, “Stella Maris was a haven. A place they came to in search of peace—and they found peace, despite expectation, and because of the secret this world holds. It is a long time since anyone has come looking for us. But it is my belief that this place should remain a haven for anyone who comes looking for peace and harmony. Who are we to decide who is turned away? Who are we to decide that nobody else should share the peace and harmony which we are lucky to have?”

Some of the older people were nodding, perhaps thinking of what they might have done if they had been turned away from Stella Maris, and how different their lives might have been. Others looked more troubled.

“Other long-houses are free to choose what they want,” said Feuerstein. “But I say that Stella Maris should welcome all.”

The very oldest lifted a hand to speak. People turned to listen, because this was a person of great experience. “I lived somewhere else. The universe beyond this world is very different from what we enjoy here. We cannot assume that ships—and there will be more ships, I think—come in peace, and looking for peace. We may have to defend ourselves.”

There was a ripple of muttering around the room: some were anxious; others excited. Some asked:
How can we defend ourselves?
Others said:
Let them come.

“If people come to cause conflict, we cannot prevent them landing,” Feuerstein pointed out. “And, yes, I say that we in this house join with all the other houses to defend ourselves. But if they come in peace, or in search of the same peace which we enjoy—I say we do not have the right to refuse them.”

“Others may disagree,” said the oldest one.

“That is their right,” said Feuerstein.

“I fear a schism,” said the oldest.

“It may happen,” said Feuerstein, “but I do not fear it. We may disagree, and not be divided.”

The oldest smiled. “With that, I agree. You have my backing.”

Feuerstein looked around the group. “Are we in agreement?”

A single voice rose up in assent:
Yes.
The oldest turned to Feuerstein. “Then represent the decision of our long-house to the whole.”

S
O HERE THEY
were at last, on Stella Maris. The crew of the
Baba Yaga
gathered around the viewscreen and looked out on the world they had been hunting for so long.

“What a shithole,” said Larsen. Maria tutted, nodding down at Jenny. “Sorry,” said Larsen. “But it is. Do we think this is right place?”

Failt snuffled unhappily. “Don’t look much, Missus Dee,” he said. “Looks
bad
.”

Walker looked at the dry, inhospitable world on which they had landed, and turned to Heyes. “You wouldn’t have lied to us, would you? To defend your runaways?”

“You wanted to come to the place where I used to send them,” said Heyes. “Well, this is it. You have to understand that I never came here,” she went on. “There was a priest on Shard’s World who ran the railroad before I did, and I took over when he died. As far I know there was someone before him, and someone before him... I inherited their work.” She frowned. “One reason I felt particularly bad when the railroad was exposed.”

Larsen was tapping controls alongside the viewscreen. “Have we found anything yet that passes for signs of life?”

Comfortably embedded in his pilot’s sling, Yershov called out, “There’s a settlement about ten miles from here.”

They all turned to look at him. Walker, calmly, said. “Did you know that before you landed?”

Yershov shrugged.

Larsen said, “It didn’t cross your mind to land any closer?”

Yershov closed his eyes and burrowed back further into his sling. “I was paid to bring you here,” he said. “What you ladies do now is your own business.”

Walker, Larsen and Heyes all looked at each other.
Ladies
, mouthed Larsen, and mimed strangling someone. “Well,” said Walker, “it sounds like we have a walk ahead. Larsen, could you start hunting out some gear for the journey? Heyes, perhaps you could help. Maria, you should stay here with Jenny.” She turned to the Vetch child. “Failt...”

“I stay here,” he said firmly. “Don’t know yet if Vetch are welcome.”

Walker hesitated. She had got used to having her little guard dog around, and she realised she would miss his chatter, not to mention his unflagging belief in her and their quest. But she had to agree that Failt’s presence might complicate matters unnecessarily. “All right,” she said. “I guess that makes three of us. We’ll wait until it’s cooler, and then we’ll set out.”

Larsen, returning from the hold with water bottles and an assortment of hiking gear, took her aside. “Are you sure that Heyes and I can’t handle this by ourselves? This is long walk, and we don’t know what state the settlement is in at the other end. There might not even be clean water.”

“Heyes is twenty years older than me,” Walker said. “If she can manage it, so can I. I assume you’re not offering to go alone?”

“Not a chance,” Larsen said. “Well, I can only advise, as your doctor. I can’t pin you down and insist you stay.”

“No.”

She glanced around and lowered her voice further. “But are you absolutely sure about Heyes? I mean, she isn’t exactly here under her own volition, is she?”

“I have confidence in Heyes,” said Walker.

Larsen sighed. “Keep telling yourself that,” she said. “If it helps.”

They set out in the early evening. The ground was rough, rocky, and the heat of the day lingered, slowing their pace. There was no cover.

They’d trekked for about an hour covering a couple of miles, when they heard the rumble of an engine ahead, coming their way. Walker called a halt, to the obvious relief of her companions, not to mention her own. Heyes slumped down on the ground and drank liberally from her water bottle. Larsen, standing on one leg and rubbing at the other, watched as Walker took out a small set of binoculars. “Anything?”

Walker shook her head. “Whoever they are, they’re kicking up a lot of dust.”

They waited for a while until, at last, a large, old-fashioned lorry trundled towards them. It stopped some way distant, presumably to keep from covering them in dust. A courtesy Walker hoped boded well for the meeting about to happen.

They watched, tensely and in silence, as a party of five got out of the lorry—two humans and three Vetch, very big and imposing. Walker looked closely to see if any of them were carrying weapons. There were none that she could see; of course, her own weapon was concealed too. She rested her hand lightly against it.

“Well,” said Larsen, quietly, “we were promised human and Vetch.”

“So we were,” replied Walker. She lifted her hand in greeting, and stepped forwards. “My name is Delia Walker,” she said. “I come in peace, I guess.”

One of the humans broke away from the group and came towards her. A woman in her mid-thirties with short dark hair, wearing what looked to be homespun clothes, she came close and then spoke without any further introductions. “Why are you here? What have you come for?” Her Anglais was excellent, but the accent was odd, as if it had drifted slightly from the mainstream in the time the people of Stella Maris had been set apart.

“Why are we here?” Walker took a breath. “That’s difficult to explain. Perhaps you could take me to someone in authority?”

One of the Vetch made a low growling noise at the back of its throat. Thanks to her time with Failt, Walker recognised the unnerving sound as laughter. The woman fell back and spoke to the rest of the group; Walker strained to listen but could make out nothing. Eventually she woman walked back to them.

“We can’t take you to someone in authority,” she said. “But we think it would be best if you came back with us to the settlement.” She gestured towards the lorry. “You can address us all properly there.”

Walker looked at the lorry, unsure whether to trust these people. They were outnumbered and, as far as she knew, out-equipped. She didn’t fancy being driven off into the desert, shot, and dumped. “Let me speak to the others,” she said, and the woman nodded.

“Heyes?” said Walker, when the three of them were together. “You know these people. Any advice?”

The priest shrugged. “Don’t ask me,” she said. “I’ve never been here before.”

“We
are
heading their way,” said Larsen. “I do not say this solely because I think I am getting a blister, but in the spirit of full disclosure I think I should mention it. But it does seem a terrible waste of our time to walk where these people are going, particularly when they have taken the trouble to come and find us. In fact, I think it would be rude.”

Walker looked at Heyes, who shrugged again. “I wasn’t particularly looking forward to walking through a desert, not even at night.”

“All right,” said Walker. “We’ll go.” She led them over to the group. “It seems my friends and I are in agreement. We’d like to take you up on your kind offer of a ride.”