Several relatives came forward to claim the bodies of their loved ones, and for months there was a trickle of these desolated arrivals on the island, usually exhausted after the long journey across the Archipelago. Often that complicated journey turned out to be a mere preamble to the maze of military bureaucracy they then had to penetrate, to gain access to the remains of their sons and daughters.
One such arrival was the author, Moylita Kaine. She later said that she had feared she would face more official obduracy than other people, for two reasons. Firstly, she was not a relative, but had come of her own volition on behalf of the sister of a young constable who had been killed. She was also no friend of the Faiandland authorities. A recent book by her had exposed the fact that both sides in the war were using psychosis-inducing gases. These had been illegal for many years, but they had been brought covertly back into use and deployed against each other’s front line.
Her book led to a new abolition, surrounded by a storm of recrimination and controversy. Although she was a neutral, her book had been based on experiences in Faiandland, and consequently she had become persona non grata on Faiand territory. She was no stranger to their harassment.
Presumably, though, orders had come from higher up that she was not to be delayed on Luice, because the casket containing the young man’s body was passed into her care soon after she arrived.
She was also given a badly damaged paperback book, the only possession they had been able to identify as his. She found his name, neatly written at the top of the first page inside. Much of the rest of the book was scorched and torn.
She had to return by the way she had come, with no special assistance from the Faiand people. Although Kaine was a modest woman with no interest in personal publicity, her literary reputation had spread throughout the islands and her brief visit to Luice aroused interest and sympathy amongst the people who lived there. As she waited for the incoming ferry to dock, she was photographed on the bleak, sun-scorched quay, with an honour escouade standing to attention behind her. In one hand she was holding the scorched remains of the paperback book, the other she was resting lightly on the flag-draped coffin.
As the gangplank was swung down to the quay, a young reporter stepped forward and approached her respectfully, addressing her by name. They exchanged a few words.
Then he asked her if the soldier who had been killed was a close relative, perhaps a son?
‘No,’ said Ms Kaine. ‘He was just a friend, another writer. And he wasn’t really a soldier at all. He had been drafted into the Border Policier.’
Later, as the coffin was carried aboard the ship by the honour escouade, slowly stepping, arms linked beneath the casket, she was seen to be standing beside the gangplank, looking away across the harbour waters, weeping quietly.
Manlayl
HALF COMPLETED / HALF STARTED
A small island in the temperate latitudes of the northern Midway Sea, close to the northern continent, MANLAYL was for centuries known only for its fishing. The fishing grounds on the continental shelf in the Manlayl region are exceptionally rich and diverse, and the catches were exported to all parts of the Archipelago.
With the coming of the war, however, all islands in that part of the sea were surveyed for possible strategic usefulness. The Covenant of Neutrality was not then in place and many small islands found themselves requisitioned for the siting of observation and listening posts, for airfields, deepwater ports, training grounds and the like. In Manlayl’s case, the Glaund Republic sequestered the island by main force and set about building an underground missile-launching site. The people of the island could only stand by powerlessly and watch.
The island’s salvation came in the form of the hastily drawn up First Protocols of what was to become in due course the full Covenant. Protective neutrality was declared, the Glaundians departed with bad grace, and peace returned to Manlayl and many other small islands like it.
The Glaundians left a legacy of several deep tunnels drilled into the rock. Their excavations had revealed that the rock of Manlayl was mostly an old and stable formation of limestone, a soft but durable rock, suitable for ambitious tunnelling projects.
Word of this reached Jordenn Yo, the earthmoving installation artist. Using false documents to show she had claimed and won mineral development rights from the Glaund occupiers, Yo brought in her equipment, hired the necessary artisans and tunnelling began. It was not long before news of her installations spread, and hundreds of freelance or mercenary tunnellers began arriving on Manlayl. Soon they had set up their own projects in competition with Yo.
Having seen or learned about what had happened on other islands, the Manlayl Seigniory Department invested most of the accumulated wealth of the island in a desperate lawsuit intended to protect the island from reckless tunnelling. After protracted and frequently adjourned legal proceedings they eventually won their case.
Jordenn Yo had already left Manlayl, realizing that if she did not her equipment would risk being seized by the authorities. She had already served prison sentences elsewhere. But many of the mercenary tunnellers carried on boring and digging until the last possible moment. Some were removed only after bailiffs were called in to take them out by force.
Finally, the battle was over and the last tunnellers departed. Some went into prison. Manlayl was made safe from tunnellers, and many other islands, feeling themselves at similar risk, used the case as a precedent for bringing in their own anti-tunnelling legislation. The life of the island slowly reverted to what it had been many years before.
Much irreparable damage had been caused, though, and more than half the island was now riddled with long, corkscrewing passages through the bedrock. Many of these had ingresses at mid-tide level, causing daily floods. Several of the smaller hills began to collapse, and part of the northern shore was crumbling into the sea with every tide. Inundation and subsidence extended a long way inland. Even today there are many large areas of Manlayl where it is unsafe to venture.
However, most of the south and eastern areas of the island are as they have always been, and commercial fishing has resumed. The island is a pleasant and interesting place to visit, with many historical markers. The main port, Manlayl Town, has several small hotels and pensions suitable for couples or families, and the cuisine, largely based on exotic seafood, is exquisite. Summer and autumn are the best times to visit, because the winter gales do still make Manlayl an extremely noisy and disharmonious place. It is not wise to reveal any interest in tunnelling.
Currency: Archipelagian simoleon, Ganntenian credit, Aubracian talent.
Meequa / Tremm
BEARER OF MESSAGES / FAST WANDERER
THE DRONE
The drones came in at nightfall. If she had completed her day’s tasks at the observatory, Lorna Mennerlin would shut down her terminal then scramble down the uneven cliff steps to the beach. From there she could watch the aircraft returning as they flew in low above the sea.
When the sea was calm, the brightly coloured LEDs in the belly of each of the drones mirrored back from the surface of the waves. On some evenings the machines flew over one by one, sometimes separated by several minutes, but most evenings they arrived in such numbers that they swarmed towards the island in a glittering formation. As they passed over the beach and responded to the radar sensing of the rocky cliffs rising beyond, they would adjust their height in unison. In their wake was a breathy susurration from their silenced vanes, a feeling of secretive distances already crossed, covert explorations, unstated winds.