Oberheim (Voices): A Chronicle of War by Christopher Leadem (top books of all time .txt) 📖

***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OBERHEIM (VOICES)***

Copyright 2002 by Christopher Leadem

OBERHEIM (Voices) a chronicle of War

Science Fiction,
Approx. 90,000 Words

Copyright 2002 by Christopher Leadem,
All Rights Reserved.

to Hemingway

ACT ONE

Andersen Sector
Months X through XII
International Year: 2410

OBERHEIM

The dawn came cool and pale. Looking down from the balcony he watched the white sun rise slowly, lighting the valleys and stalk forests below, the dark mountains behind. The only sound was that of transplanted birds in the distance, seeming unnatural in this altogether alien landscape. He heard his name called from within, but did not answer. Elonna came and stood in the glass doorway behind him, wrapped in a blanket.

"What's the matter, Eric?" He did not answer but only shook his head without turning. She stepped out onto the balcony beside him, opened the blanket with her arms and wrapped it about his shoulders. Her skin felt warm against him, but could not displace the emptiness and anxiety he felt.

"What's wrong?" she asked again, curling up against his chest.

"I don't know. It's too quiet." The girl turned her face to look out into the wind, her long hair flowing behind. She looked out at the sun, warm and sleepy-eyed, then drew back from him with a start.

"Eric, look!" Three black specks had just cleared the horizon, and were moving swiftly toward them. They flew in tight V formation, but their shapes could not yet be distinguished.

"Oh, damn. Elonna, get inside, down into the shelter. I'm going to try to contact the city."

She hurried inside. He looked back then moved to follow, but too late. A shaft of yellow light shot down from one of the ships, now nearly overhead, and he slumped to the balcony floor. Then they were gone.

She cried out and rushed and knelt beside him, lifting his shoulders. "Eric, no! Don't leave me here." She wept and put his head to her neck and rocked him back and forth, but he only lay there unmoving.

From behind the mountains came a blinding flash, followed after several hushed breaths by a deep rumbling in the distance. Then all was quiet and the city, too, was gone. She knelt holding him still, trying to remember what he said to do if this happened, but for a time could only cry. She heard the sound of smaller ships approaching but it did not register. Suddenly she knew she was in danger and must act.

She ran inside, quickly zipped into a coverall, grabbed a flask of water as she passed out of the room. She ran down the stairs, was out the door and flying toward the forest while a part of her was still on the balcony.

She reached the first stubble-shoots, four to six feet high, their blue branches like thick hair at an angle toward the sun. Brushing past them, she was just entering the cover of the trees when a small troop-deploying ship landed amidst the cluster of houses from which she had fled. Screams broke out but they were cut short, one by one. Her eyes welled with tears and she stumbled many times but kept going.

After what seemed an eternity she came upon the narrow path, branching left and gradually rising toward an outlying spur of the hills. But by now she could go no further. She had just strength and wits enough left to move a short way off it and collapse into a long dry rill, overhung with bushes. There for a time, dizziness and fatigue pinned her. She was too physically spent to feel much sorrow, but at intervals the knowledge of her husband's death came back to her like a hollow blow in places she could not defend. At last grief wholly overcame her.

"Oh, Eric. What am I going to do without you?" She lay there weeping.
 Then slowly, like a memory, his words began to come back to her.

"If you get to the deep woods and I still haven't come, you've got to hide." I'M HIDDEN ERIC. "But that won't do for long. They'll be out with heat sensors, so you've got to get to the graves." She started to rise, then fell back. ERIC, I CAN'T. "You must."

She staggered to her feet, found the path, went forward and began looking for the cluster of gray stones which marked the turnoff. She found it just as she was ready to quit.

Leaving the path once more, she picked her way through vaguely familiar landmarks till she came to two bare oblong mounds of earth. THEY DO LOOK LIKE GRAVES. She fumbled about the edge of one till she found the handle. It took all her strength to lift it, and the thick red earth on top did not move. She slid her way into the opening and lay in the shallow hole, the lid thudding to above her.

She felt for the dead-blanket, covered the length of her body with it and shivered in the darkness. The cutting whir of a search-ship overhead sounded dully around her. She clutched together like a child, hardly daring to breathe. But the ship passed over and was gone.

She was alone.

*

The night had come and though she could not see it she could feel it. The air that tricked in from the breathing hole was cold and wet, chilling her. She turned and wrestled the dead-blanket from her, reached up and tried to push back the lid.

It would not move, and for a moment she panicked. Then placing both hands together, she pushed with everything she had. The earth above her buckled, cracked and gave way. She forced her way out. She stood up, brushed away the clay-like dirt, and looked around her.

All was dark and silent. There was no moon, but through scattered openings in the interlacing canopy a few stars shone dimly. Her eyes already accustomed to the dark, she worked her way slowly back to the path, then turned to the right. Still there was no sound and she walked, tentatively at first, and stopping to look around her many times, then with greater confidence on toward the hills. She picked a light, strong shaft from among the many that lay fallen by the way. Its curved length felt reassuring in her hands. She still felt great loss, but no longer any fear. The hours in the grave had not been wasted.

The grade became steeper, and she found she was topping the first shallow hill. The way led down from it and then up again, more steeply than before. The smooth stones became larger and more numerous.

At length she felt she must rest, and sitting on a cold stone, suddenly realized that for all her newfound courage, she had no clear idea where she was trying to go. Beyond vague references to 'people in the hills', Eric's instructions ended here. Through chattering teeth she hugged her shoulders, lowered her head and tried not to cry. ERIC.

Again she rose and looked about her, stamping her feet to try to keep warm. Nothing in sight. Wait. . .what was that? Either her eyes deceived her or there was a pale resonance, little more than a shadow of light, just beyond the hill in front of her. From where she stood the path hooked left to skirt its base before finding a narrow pass between ever larger foothills. But above and to her right came the soft, inviting sheen. Torn between fear and the need for shelter, she moved cautiously a short way into the brush.

The climb was not steep, but try as she might she could not make it noiselessly. More than once she missed her footing, stumbled, and fell through thick leaves with a muted sound like walking through corn. In truth the noise of her falling was not great, and except for a short gasp on one occasion no sound escaped her lips. But in that quiet of night she was sure that it carried.

Finally reaching the hilltop, she looked down on a slight recession, in the center of which lay a small, rounded clearing. A dim lantern was hung on a post at one end, seeming lost and forlorn in the wilderness. All around it there was nothing to be seen except a broad, flat bench on which a man might rest, and no sign that it was anything more than a traveler's light, left to mark a trail, that would go on glowing for years unattended.

Still she took nothing for granted. She approached the clearing and slowly, very slowly left the cover of the trees. She made her way silently to the post and examined it closely. She heard something step through the bushes to her left and her heart was in her throat. She whirled, relaxed and nearly fainted.

The man's face and hands were black.

"Thank God," she managed, swooning still. The man, perhaps fifty, clad in camouflaged cover-suit and jacket, remained at his distance. When she had recovered herself she saw that he regarded her kindly, but made no attempt to help her stand.

"What have we here?" he said in a dry voice, with just a corner of a smile. "Another ebony wanderer? And in the middle of the night. I was just getting ready to leave."

"I guess so." Now that she was no longer moving, the cold pierced her clothes and she shivered once more.

"Well, I guess we'd better get you out of it. Have you strength to walk?"

"Yes….. How do I know I can trust you?"

"You have no choice." He left the light as it was.

He led the way, and after hesitating she walked with him for several miles without speaking, climbing ever higher into the dark, bony hills. They rested then briefly, her breath coming hard from the steep grades they had already passed. But now, leaning dizzy and pallid against a stone, she felt a strange reluctance to speak of her condition. A harsh stubbornness had been growing inside her as they went, tightening ever harder as fatigue become unbearable. The feeling frightened her, but she kept it to herself. Instead she tried to satisfy another doubt.

"Who are you?"

"I am that which I am," he said. And he gave a short, bitter laugh.

"Why are you laughing?"

"Nothing to do with you," he said. "Just making a little joke to myself." She looked down at the ground beneath her feet. "But now you must be very tired. No need to push yourself all at once. Sit down on the ground and we'll rest."

She slid to the cold earth with her back against rough stone. It was quiet, too quiet, and through the darkness the memories….. She wept quietly.

"So softness wins out after all," he said flatly. She glared at him angrily, but he was not looking at her. "Don't worry about it. Sometimes it wins in me too." He must think he's some kind of stern father, she thought. A stern, unfeeling bastard of a father.

They walked till the hills became sheer, then rested again, this time looking up at a dark face frowning down on them. "How much further?" she asked heavily.

"Not far."

"Truthfully?"

"Yes. Can you walk a little farther?"

"Yes. Just give me a minute to rest." He did, exactly. They set out again, skirting the rockface till they came to a gap between cliffs. They followed it up and in, moving through a narrow strip with high walls on either side. Finally it died into a meeting of stone.

"Where now?" she asked between gasps.

"Nowhere. We're here."

"But I don't see anything." A cold fear ran through her.

"Wouldn't be much of a hiding place if you could." He moved past her and flicked his finger between a crack in the rock. Almost at once a soft white light began