Excerpt from the The Skid Chronicles part 2
Bruce wondered why he had never thought of hijacking one of the patrol ships before as piloting one was just like playing on a virtual flight trainer game on the internet. He blissfully ignored the fact that he would never have got even close to one of them previously. He also ignored the probability that even if he had got aboard he would just as likely have blown the space port and himself to bits rather than getting off the ground, let alone managing to get back to earth.
Myfair had shown him what most of the controls did, showed him how to set a course to anywhere on Skid and back to earth, but nowhere else. Myfair had also suggested that he not fiddle with various knobs and buttons on one side of the console in a most un-Skidlike manner. This was like a red rag to a bull to Bruce who suspected they must control the ships weapons systems and he itched for a suitable target and an opportunity to test them.
Bruce enjoyed piloting the space craft, though he was looking forward to seeing what had become of his farm even more. The farm that he had hewn from the landscape just like his ancestors had hacked their’s out of the bush. He conveniently forgot about the huge trees that his pioneering ancestors had had to deal with, with nothing more than an axe and a pit saw and the years of superhuman struggle they’d had to break in the farm. Bruce felt as if he was coming home after a long trip away, which after he thought about it for a moment was quite odd.
Odd because not so long ago he hated the place, hated the planet and the people that inhabited it and yearned for the real home that he thought he would never see again. Now he felt some sort of proprietary interest in what was happening there as if it was his and not the property of those that lived there. He wondered if he would feel the same way if he ever got back to his real home again. He thought about that possibility for a moment and found to his surprise that going home or not going home didn’t seem to mean as much to him as he believed it once had. All he had always wanted was embodied in the baby that Sue held, and well maybe in Sue herself although he wasn’t all that sure about that yet.
Bruce shook his head in disbelief. It was as if whatever emotional bonds he had developed for the place he had grown up and bound him there had been shattered. If he did ever go back home to earth his homecoming would certainly be different. While his absence had not been missed before, this time his departure had been far more public and would be hard to hide. He was also determined that if he did return to earth it would be in full control over his memories.
It wasn’t hard to conjure up a vision of Trev being grilled by the thought police, or of Mrs Pratt who must be having a hard time explaining the disappearance of little Bruce to the cops and the gun she toted.
How did you land these things? He wondered. He needn’t have worried. As the patrol craft skimmed over the trees the farm came into view and after making a circuit of the farm it descended, slowed and landed gently beside the barn without any input from Bruce who was left wondering whether he had actually been in control at all.
During the circuit Bruce had seen people running towards the house from various points about the farm and wondered why they would do that. None of them had turned up where the craft had landed, though as he walked down the ramp behind Myfair he could see some Skidians looking down the hill at them. That struck him as a little strange. But he was more interested in the farm which from the air looked much as he’d left it.
Bruce wrinkled his nose distastefully, the place had an air of sad neglect, like a rental house, where nobody really cared about the place because it wasn’t theirs and it showed in the rank grass, the sagging gates and the tools and chairs left discarded about the yard.
The dogs ran out of the space ship behind them and reacquainted themselves with their old stamping ground as Sue carry the baby and Bruce followed Myfair up the hill towards the house.
Mitch stood indecisively at the door of the space ship and looked out. Nobody had told him to do anything so he wasn’t sure what he should be doing and he was not used to alighting from an aircraft without a military salute to acknowledge and a red carpet to stride purposefully down. Should he follow the others or stay put? He asked himself. He could see some people peering down the hill at them and wasn’t sure whether they were friendly or not. They didn’t look too happy. Some looked as if they were brandishing objects that looked very much like weapons. His old fear of open spaces made him feel giddy and he teetered on the threshold wondering if he was going to faint. He reached out a hand to support himself in the doorway and told himself to pull together.
The real fear of being left behind overrode the other conflicting emotions in Mitch’s mind and he made a move to follow the other three. The door closing behind him as he stepped out of the spaceship made the decision final. He trotted off after the others as fast as his out of condition body would allow him and came abreast of them puffing and coughing wondering if he had the energy to make the climb the rest of the way up the hill.
Myfair recognized most of the people standing on the hill and saw them relax as soon as they realized who it was alighting from the patrol ship. Perhaps they’ve had other less welcome visitors he decided, wandering bands of desperate Skidians looking for food and shelter or maybe more formidable, more demanding visitors from the better appointed industrial complexes. Maybe the likes of Mischief had learnt of his absence and decided to test the limits of their power.