Whistling Past the Graveyard Read online

  Rlinda Kett seemed to have a good heart, though. Daniel remembered meeting her when he’d been groomed as Prince Daniel, because if he were to be the new king, he would need to interact with important traders. Vaguely recalling the woman’s reputation, he realized that there could have been far more disastrous people to rediscover Happiness.

  Even so, they had to be very careful to make sure she didn’t spark a flood of well-intentioned Confederation representatives. The first ones would insist they were doing the right thing, and the second ones would overdo it, and by the third wave, the neo-Amish culture would be destroyed. That was why Jeremiah Huystra and his people had so eagerly gambled on the Klikiss colonization initiative and come here to this virgin planet. Hoping never to be found.

  “This is delicious,” Rlinda said, as she reached out to take the platter of roasted lamb chops. “Very earthy, simple yet flavorful.” She speared some beets that dripped red onto her plate, then a serving of string beans. “Full of calories, but none of you looks fat,” she said, bluntly. “Muscular, solid as a rock.”

  “We are the way life shapes us,” Huystra said. “We work hard. We have a hearty life and devoted families.”

  “An admirable lifestyle,” she said.

  Daniel introduced her to Serene and their two sons, Malachi and Enoch, and their young daughter, Ruth, then he lowered his voice. “Please don’t send anyone back here, Captain Kett. As you can see, life is perfect here. We’re self-sufficient. Anything else would ruin it.”

  “I don’t disagree, young man. The way I remember you is with fancy robes and fine jewels. You were pouty and demanded everything.”

  “I’m better now.”

  “Yes, you are,” she agreed, and took another lamb chop. “I will make a notation in Confederation records that this colony is intact and in no need of assistance, then I’ll bury the report. That’s the best I can do.” She spread her hands, and all the others nodded. She finished her meal, dabbed at her mouth with one of their rough napkins. “After this, I’m off to Rendezvous, going to see Olaf Reeves and his clan.”

  “Is he still rebuilding that old complex?” asked Huystra.

  “Oh, I think he’ll be rebuilding it for a very long time ... generations maybe. Any message you’d like me to bring to him?”

  “Yes,” Huystra said gruffly. “Thank him for not revealing our secret. Let us hope we can say the same about you, Rlinda Kett.”

  The trader woman promised, and rather than sleeping in a spare bedroom they offered, she chose to go back aboard her ship. “Time of day doesn’t matter much when you’re flying from star to star. I live by my own clock, and I prefer to sleep in my own bunk.”

  In the dark, Daniel and the neo-Amish followed her along the dirt streets to the empty field where she had landed, and they bid her farewell. The Voracious Curiosity’s engines brightened as the trading vessel lifted off, leaving deep marks in the field, then accelerated it reached higher altitude. The ship transformed into a bright shooting star that raced out into the universe.

  Watching her go, Daniel let out a sigh of relief, glad the intruder was gone.

  * * *

  Next morning when he got up, ready for another day of hard work in the fields, Daniel dressed in clean clothes and ate the delicious breakfast Serene prepared—rich grainy bread, eggs, and potatoes to give him the energy he needed. Their morning conversation revolved around Captain Kett’s visit and how the outsider woman had reminded him of his old life.

  Serene had completely accepted him, as had all the neo-Amish. Yes, Daniel’s life had been full of experiences back in the Whisper Palace with fine clothes and important diplomatic responsibilities as the supposed successor to the misbehaving King Peter. But once he had married beautiful Serene and settled into this comfortable and satisfying life insulated from the problems out in the Spiral Arm, he talked very little about what he had left behind.

  He didn’t withhold any information as a shameful secret, but his wife had been raised among the neo-Amish, and her curiosity extended no farther than what she could see with her own eyes. At first her simple complacency bothered him, but then Daniel realized that he didn’t like to think of those things after all. Once he’d let himself become part of the community, once he contributed and benefited from the embrace of these people and their culture, he didn’t miss his old life. Not at all. And he didn’t miss who he had been.

  Here on Happiness, he was rich in ways that he never knew to value before.

  As the morning brightened. Daniel left the small cottage he shared with his family. The air was still fresh and brisk throughout the valley, and he would spend the day working in the communal cornfields weeding, hoeing, watching for unexpected blight.

  His sturdy leather shoes made impressions in the soft dirt as he walked past their vegetable garden with tomatoes, squash, green peas, and okra. Serene kept her herb garden near the house so she could step outside and snip chives, or pull basil or rosemary for her cooking. Before school that morning, the children were supposed to be picking beans, but he found Malachi, Enoch, and Ruth fascinated with a strange new plant that had sprung up overnight.

  Ruth glanced up at him and pointed toward the ground. “It looks funny, Dad, but pretty.” She was smart and studious, the only one of the three children who didn’t complain about lessons in the schoolhouse. Her two brothers poked at the growth.

  Daniel bent to inspect the strange plant. It seemed halfway between a mushroom and a flower, a fleshy green stalk tipped with a hard, bullet-shaped purple capsule like an overripe eggplant. There were no leaves. He touched the cylinder—the bud? “It’s not something we planted, so it must be native.” He shooed the children away. “Go on, now, you have chores to do, beans to pick, then classes before noon.”

  Daniel trudged out into the fields of waist-high corn. He worked with a hoe to churn the soil between the rows, carefully extricating the weeds between the stalks. As the day warmed, the farmers mostly worked in congenial silence, though some hummed and others engaged in brief conversations.

  Daniel let his thoughts wander. After Rlinda’s visit he kept receiving flashes of young Peter and Estarra, his rivals—and what they had done to him, dumping him here on this backwater planet. But he understood their actions now. They had been desperate to keep themselves alive, aware that Chairman Wenceslas meant to eliminate them, replace them with a more pliable Daniel. He could not hold a grudge against them. The King and Queen could have killed him, but instead they exiled him. They had saved him.

  Daniel looked up from his reverie, startled to find that the other farmers had stopped working, holding their hoes and tilting their wide-brimmed hats to look down the road. A lone man staggered down the path from the hills, which led to the smaller settlement in the upper meadows. Only a hundred people lived up in the alpine pastures compared to the four hundred down here in the main valley. This man staggered and swayed, stumbling along as if exhausted.

  Jeremiah Huystra shaded his eyes and frowned. “This isn’t right.”

  “It’s Rickard,” called one of the other farmers.

  Then they were all rushing out to meet the man. His clothes were dirty, his hair disheveled; he had lost his hat somewhere along the road. His eyes were nearly swollen shut as if they’d been stung by wasps. Liquid oozed out of his ears, and his cheeks and chin were crusted with snot. Rickard coughed and sneezed, and he nearly collapsed, but the others held onto him. He was soaked with sweat.

  “Are you sick, Rickard?” Jeremiah demanded. “Is it a fever? A plague?”

  The man turned his face toward the sound, though he couldn’t see. “No plague. Is that Father Jeremiah? Who is it?”

  “It’s Jeremiah.” He grasped the shoulders of the weak and obviously sick man. “Tell us what happened.”

  Rickard said, “It’s the spores. The grieka plants are rising again, just like ten years ago.”

  “Spores?” Daniel asked. “What spores?” He had heard the neo-Amish muttering about a grea
t disaster in the colony’s first year, but his brothers and sisters were reluctant to give any details.

  Looking grave, Jeremiah turned to Daniel. “Grieka spores. Humans are extremely allergic to them. A great wave blossomed in our first year on Happiness, but then they died off, and they haven’t bothered us since.”

  “Maybe they’re cyclical,” Daniel said.

  They helped carry the weak man back toward the settlement. “In my home,” Jeremiah said. “I have a spare bed.”

  Rickard continued to speak in his liquid, choking voice. “The sporeflowers began to rise two weeks ago, mostly around the ring of the meadows. The sheep ate them, and when the first few died we realized what the flowers were. Hundreds of them.” When he shook his head, mucous dripped out of his nose. “Thousands! After the blossoms faded and the spore casings burst, spores filled the air, filled every breath. Toxic.”

  “Two weeks?” Daniel said. “If you saw them growing and you knew what they were, why didn’t you come ask for help?”

  “We prayed,” said Rickard. Then he coughed and spat out a mouthful of phlegm just before they hauled him into Jeremiah’s house. Several women emerged from their homes and hurried over to assist.

  With a sidelong glance at Daniel, Jeremiah continued to explain. “We covered our mouths and noses, tried to stay inside until it passed, but the spores penetrated. Once the flowers burst and the toxins filled the wind, there was nothing we could do. We lost a third of our people in the spore storm.”

  “A third!” Daniel cried. “What if it’s coming back?”

  “Maybe the flowers will be limited to the high meadows this time,” said Ezra, one of the other farmers.

  “So many in the upper meadows are sick,” Rickard said, then his knees gave out. They carried him into Jeremiah’s home.

  “Shouldn’t we go help the other village?” Daniel asked.

  Jeremiah shook his head. “The spores are already in the air. The healthy ones up there will have to take care of the sick, and we have to hope the griekas don’t spread down here. We’ll alert our people. They must pray as well and prepare themselves.”

  “There must be some other precautions we can take,” Daniel said. He suddenly recalled the strange plant his children had found growing in their vegetable garden. He determined to chop it out of the ground, then burn it as soon as he got home.

  “The spore storm will pass,” Jeremiah said. “It did before.” Three women brought moist rags and tended the sick man while Jeremiah and the farmers stepped outside, muttering together in deep concern. “It will pass. We will have to hunker down and endure.”

  Daniel thought of his beautiful wife, his three children. A third of the population had died from allergic reaction to the spores? A third? Statistically, that meant at least one member of his family would likely perish in the coming spore storm.…

  That night he was somber at dinner, and he held Serene tightly in bed. She clung to him. She had been here during the first spore storms, when she was just a girl. She didn’t like to describe all the death, didn’t like to think about it, so Daniel had to let his imagination paint dreaded pictures. Listening to a soft rain that pattered on the roof, he fell asleep in her arms.

  When he woke, the air was fresh and sweet smelling, full of moisture. Stepping out of the house into the brightening dawn, he looked across the garden, the fields, the pastures and drew in a quick breath as he saw more of the strange purple buds rising up like mushrooms after a warm rain.

  Thousands of them covering the ground, everywhere.

  Everywhere.

  Chapter Three

  Rlinda Kett

  The Rendezvous asteroid cluster, formerly the government center for the Roamer clans, was a disorganized spray of rocks orbiting a red dwarf named Meyer. As the Voracious Curiosity approached, Rlinda thought the interconnected rocks still looked disorganized. That wasn’t much of a surprise, since the Earth Defense Forces had blasted the complex apart and made the Roamers flee as outlaws during the Elemental War.

  En route, Rlinda had prepared a particularly fine meal with fresh ingredients—potatoes, peas, beans, and carrots from Happiness. Though the neo-Amish liked to be isolated, their hospitality could not be faulted. Confident she would keep their secret, they were so trusting, so wholesome. Only Daniel, the former Prince, had shown any uneasiness. Rlinda remembered what a brat he had been, but she did admire how much he had changed.

  She would respect the lost colony’s wishes. Although she was a trader, as well as the Confederation’s Trade Minister, she would leave them be and not let them be exploited by outside interests. Her goal was to keep everyone happy.

  She now knew that Olaf Reeves had kept the secret as well, respecting the neo-Amish privacy. Roamer clans followed their Guiding Star, and the neo-Amish believed in a biblical God who somehow could not wrap His mind around post-industrial technology. But philosophically, the two groups were aligned, and it didn’t surprise her that Olaf felt a certain kinship with them. The gruff old clan leader in the wreckage of Rendezvous wasn’t very sociable either.

  As the Curiosity cruised in, she picked up overlapping comm transmissions and the busy work of a bustling construction site. Before approaching the main asteroids, she made a point of identifying herself. Ever since Rendezvous had been attacked by the EDF, the Roamers had every reason to be jittery.

  A young man responded on the comm screen. “This is Dale Reeves, Captain Kett. You are welcome here. We’ve restored an entire section of quarters on the tertiary asteroid, so there’s plenty of room for you to visit.”

  “Give me a docking vector, and I’ll be there in a jiffy.” Relaxing back in her widened piloting seat, she tapped the silver capsule of BeBob’s ashes. “It’s good to be welcomed. Now let’s see what these Roamers are up to.”

  She already knew Olaf’s grand plans, since the gruff clan leader made no secret of his dreams, unorthodox though they might be. Rendezvous had once been an amazing island of habitable rocks, hollowed out and rigged with life-support systems. The clans had connected the asteroids with girders and walking tubes. At its peak, the grand complex had held nearly a hundred asteroids with outlying depots, tethered satellites, pressurized habitation warrens, and clan meeting centers. Rendezvous was where the various families discussed their business, and it was where their culture had blossomed.

  Rlinda winced as space rubble pocked against her defensive shields. Much of Rendezvous had been blown up, hammered by EDF jazers. The broken pieces of an impressively complex puzzle had drifted aimlessly for years. Rlinda frowned at the idiocy of that chaotic massacre during the War, all the EDF Mantas and Juggernauts hunting down Roamer ships, when the actual enemies of humanity were the hydrogues and faeros.…

  She guided her ship toward a large crater in the central asteroid, which had been converted into a pressurized landing bay. Over millennia, the asteroid’s surface had been marred by numerous celestial impacts, but she could make out dozens of fresh scars, patterns of disturbed regolith from recent explosions.

  Since embracing the task of reconstructing Rendezvous, clan Reeves had maneuvered five of the main asteroids back together, building anchor struts, support girders, and reinforced tubes that let people travel from one rock to another without donning an exosuit. Right now she counted at least twenty construction workers outside attaching girders and stringing tethers so that smaller rocks could be pulled in to the central mass. Construction pods jetted around the expanse, pushing loose rocks inward.

  Olaf’s voice boomed over the comm. “Welcome, Captain Kett. It’s about time someone from the Confederation came to see what we’ve accomplished.”

  “I’ll be landing in five, and you can show me around.”

  She had already seen images of the progress. For the past decade, Olaf had been dogged in his determination to rebuild Rendezvous exactly as it had been, although the other Roamers had moved on, constructing a new government complex called Newstation. Not the most inspired of names, Rlin
da thought, but descriptive at least.

  Objectively, they had accomplished little in ten years, but the more the other clans rebuilt their holdings elsewhere, the more Olaf Reeves tightened his grip here, as if to prove he could accomplish what he had set out to do, whether or not it still made any sense.

  After she landed the Curiosity inside the docking bay, an atmosphere containment field sealed over the gap, and she emerged as soon as the pressurization was complete. Roamers were already coming out to meet her.

  A thin, nervous-looking young man accompanied the domineering Olaf Reeves. Olaf’s voluminous beard was meticulously groomed, in sharp contrast to the unruly facial hair she had seen among the neo-Amish. Olaf smiled at her, but his face seemed tight, as if smiling was something he did only rarely. When she returned the gesture, she liked to think her smile was warmer and more sincere.

  Other Roamers came out to join him as well as a tall, blond man with statuesque features and pale blue eyes. Olaf said to the blond man, “Bjorn, Captain Kett will need to have her ekti tanks refilled, and give her ship any maintenance it needs.”

  “The Curiosity will be fine,” Rlinda said. “I brought you a nice gift.” She held out the dirty cloth sack the farmers on Happiness had given her. Although she would have liked to keep all the fresh produce for herself, she knew how rarely the Roamers received real fruits and vegetables. “The neo-Amish on Happiness wanted me to give this to you.”

  Olaf reacted with surprise. “You’ve been to Happiness?” He looked around in alarm as if one of his people might have betrayed a confidence.

  Rlinda held up a hand. “Nothing to worry about. I’ll respect their privacy. As Confederation Trade Minister, I needed to make sure that the lost Klikiss colonies were at least accounted for. That’s all I needed.”