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  The Fall

  Worldsend Garrison - Book 6

  M.D. Krix

  Grivs Publishing

  Copyright © 2020 Mike Dean Krix

  All rights reserved

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Cover design by: Thea Nicolescu

  The Fall

  Worldsend Garrison Book 6

  M.D. Krix

  © 2020 Mike Dean Krix

  All rights reserved

  Artwork by

  Thea Nicolescu

  www.ikaruna.eu

  Published by

  Grivs Publishing

  INTRODUCTION

  A faint breeze can be felt over the forest, while under the trees the air remains undisturbed. The sun is closing on the horizon and shadows grow longer. Night is still far and dusk is yet to follow, but the day is ineluctably coming to an end.

  This is the perfect moment for the rabbit to go out of his hole, in search for food. There’s plenty to be found in the surroundings, he has no reason to worry. He just needs to be careful and avoid the foxes, minks, hawks and other birds of prey, which he does instinctively.

  He’s not leaving the safety of his burrow during the day, when anyone can see him, or by night, when he’s an easy target for owls and other shadow creatures. Dawn and dusk are ideal for him to wander, and he’s taking advantage of the imminent sunset.

  He found a nice patch of grass and grazes peacefully, unaware that he’s being watched. From the thickets, two black eyes are intensely focused on the small rodent. A faint growl can be heard and the rabbit realizes his mistake at once. He dashes for it when a brown shadow emerges from the bush and lunches towards him.

  Powerful fangs bite the air where the animal was only an instant before. He runs for his life, jumping hastily to escape the jaws of the monster chasing him.

  “Parashootix, leave that poor bunny alone! You’re no fierce hunter, stop pretending. Nobody believes you.”

  An old man emerges in the small clearing where the rabbit was peacefully grazing seconds ago. He’s powerfully built, with short gray hair and an attitude of unshakable self-confidence. He moves swiftly, but grimaces when he has to leap over a fallen log. He’s still strong, but his joints hurt.

  Soon, the elder is joined by a hound wagging his tail. The quadruped is massive, but his behavior is one of a puppy. Jumping and sniffing around, he obviously wants to play. When the man scratches his head between the spiky ears, the mongrel’s jaws drop in the unmistakable happy-dog-smile.

  “Parashootix, Parashootix, you’re one of a kind. Stop scaring the poor animals, you’ll never catch any. If we relied on you to eat, we would be in trouble! Come on, let’s go home. Old Simon will feed you if you’re hungry.”

  ***

  On the terrace of a small cabin lost in the Karpi mountains, a dog answering to the name of Parashootix devours his bowl of kibbles.

  “Take it easy, my friend. At this rate, you’ll finish your provisions before winter sets in. You know very well that I don’t want to go down to the city this year, it’s too tiring and dangerous.”

  The animal may have heard, but doesn’t follow the advice and engulfs his meal under the man’s loving gaze. With his stomach now full, he comes to rest at his master’s feet.

  The man called Simon opens a beer and drinks it quietly, lost in the contemplation of the sunset. With his free hand, he pets his companion absently.

  “I think you’re right, Parashootix. Maybe we should have another trip to Pastezu soon. To stock some more goods. We have a lot already, but who knows how long we’ll be here?”

  Simon pauses, allowing his friend to consider what he said and give his opinion. The dog chooses to approve silently, as he often does.

  “Indeed, I’m not getting any younger, and the situation is not getting any better. It will not become easier for me to go down the mountains, and it’s not like the city will ever be safe.”

  Again, quietness follows Simon’s assessment. Maybe Parashootix has something to object, but he prefers not to contradict his master. He’s a wise dog and learned that silence is gold.

  “We can’t leave tomorrow, Parashootix. You know very well that I plan to climb up there to check if the polobragi bloomed already. We’ll gather mushrooms on the way, morels are everywhere right now. Don’t you want to eat some morels?”

  The dog lifts his head from his paws to look at his master. He doesn’t have to say anything, they both know the answer to the question. Mushrooms are good for humans, but a dog with an ounce of self-respect would rather have meat.

  Simon laughs heartily.

  “OK, OK, Parashootix, I got it. I’ll take my bow. We’ll catch a rabbit or a squirrel. Who knows, we might even come back with a deer, if you don’t chase them away or scare them with your barking.”

  This pleases the dog, who stands up to put his muzzle on the man’s knees, begging for head scratch.

  “Well, it’s settled then. Tomorrow we’ll go hunting, and on the following day we’ll drive down to Pastezu to grab some more things. We’ll get you kibbles, and I’ll find some beers and flour for me. We might even stumble on some toilet paper, wouldn’t it be great?”

  Hearing this, Parashootix can’t keep his mouth shut and barks. This has been a running joke between them for some time. The dog just can’t understand why his master has to isolate himself in a tiny wooden space when he needs to defecate, nor why he always takes paper in that smelling pit. It’s much simpler to do it straight in the woods, enjoying the landscape and the fresh air.

  From a canine’s point of view, humans can be weird sometimes.

  “Stop making fun of me, Parashootix. Come, let’s go inside. It’s dark and the air is getting cold. I’ll start a fire.”

  ***

  The cabin is lit by the warm glow of an open fire. On the single bed, Parashootix is already dozing off, exhausted after a long day of running wildly in the mountains.

  It’s been decided a long time ago that the bed belongs to the dog and that Simon sleeps on the rocking chair by the fire. While none of them can remember how they reached this agreement, it wouldn’t cross their mind to question it. Things work perfectly well like this, why would they want to change anything?

  Suddenly, the mutt becomes agitated in his sleep and utters a muffled wail. His legs shake wildly for a moment, before coming to rest. Under Simon’s attentive gaze, Parashootix begins to snore. His nightmare is over.

  The old man keeps on looking at him warily for long minutes. The poor dog has been having nightmares quite often lately. Most likely they do not mean anything. But maybe not. Simon knows too well what certain night visions may imply.

  Not for the first time, the man wishes his companion could talk.

  He sighs and turns back to the table where a single candle draws light on a thin pile of paper. Taking his pen, Simon resumes his writing.

  He does it every evening since he came to this cabin in the Karpi mountains with Parashootix. He thought he would finish quickly, he was mistaken. For years, he’s struggling with his story. He would like to relate so many things, but he doesn’t know how to put them in an intelligible way.

  Sometimes, he sits all night in front of a blank page without penning a single word. This is when he asks himself what is the real purpose of the task he committed to. Will anyone ever read? Will anyone ever understand what happened?

  In the late hours of the day, when the Karpi mountains ar
e pitch-black and only some sordid glow can be glimpsed in the horizon, he doubts. Usually, he doesn’t sleep well on those nights.

  Simon is a fighter, however. He swore to do his best to protect others, and he’s not the kind of person to give up that easily. His actions might be meaningless, but they could also prove useful. He hopes that one day someone will discover his letters, and that this will help to save lives. Or at least one life. Even one of a stupid and loving mongrel.

  A noisy fart coming from Parashootix brings Simon back to the reality of the small cabin. The nauseous smell that follows forces him to go out to have some fresh air.

  “Damn dog. Who educated you?”

  It’s frisky outside. Even in summertime, nights get chilly up in the mountains. Lately, even the days seem less warm than they used to be. Simon puts it on his age. In his youth, he heard that old people always feel cold and now that he’s closing on sixty, he starts to discover there is some truth in it.

  He doesn’t want to consider that perhaps the low temperatures are linked to something else.

  Simon looks down, where he knows Pastezu rests at the feet of the Karpi range. It’s been a beautiful place once. In the darkness, he can’t distinguish its ruins, and maybe it’s better. By night, he can lie to himself. He can imagine that the absence of light is due to a blackout and that the city is still standing.

  Yes, Simon could do so, but he doesn’t. He prefers to face the truth, no matter how ugly it is.

  He goes back inside the cabin, and resumes his writing. He scribbles painfully, like a man who forgot how to use a pen, but doesn’t stop to rest. He has to finish his story before it’s too late.

  When tiredness overwhelms him, he gathers all his paper in a neat pile on the table and blows the candle off. He adds some wood in the fireplace, enough to hold until morning, and heads towards the bed.

  “Good night, boy,” he whispers while caressing the dog’s flanks.

  He then sits on the rocking chair and covers his body with a quilt. Gently swaying, he closes his eyes and falls asleep quietly.

  On the table, his manuscript awaits. In the darkness of the cabin, the feeble glow of the fire is sufficient to see what his written on the first page. Carefully calligraphed in black ink, the words stand out distinctly on the white paper. They can be read easily, though their meaning could be unclear for most. They say:

  “The Story of Worldsend Garrison.”

  Chapter 1 — The New Commander

  Expectations were high when Sergeant Greta was made Commander of Worldsend Garrison after the slaughter orchestrated by her predecessor. The public asked for a radical change, and they got exactly what they wanted. This was not a simple adjustment in the management and handling of the fort, but a complete reform of everything that had been built so far.

  Since its construction, all Commanders had received the rank of Colonel, may it be in the Imperial Army, in the Republican Forces, or in the Peace Corps. Sergeant Greta refused her promotion, arguing that she wanted to be closer to her comrades and that a higher status wouldn’t allow this.

  “A true leader doesn’t need to be above the troops to show them the good direction,” are the words she used when asked about her choice during a TV interview.

  Her popularity skyrocketed after this decision.

  A Commander not being a man was also absolutely unheard of, even if it was not seen as a total rupture to the old ways. Girls had been welcome in Worldsend Garrison for decades already, and nobody there disregarded them as inferior. Those who made it to the fort were selected based on their skills and loyalty, not on their sex. This was just a matter of time until a woman took the commandment.

  In this aspect, Sergeant Greta was not the revolution she pretended to incarnate. She was simply the obvious consequence of an evolution started a long time ago by ladies who acknowledged that only sky was the limit and decided to seize their destiny in their own hands.

  Refusing her promotion was just an administrative move, and her being a woman was nothing short of normal. Those aspects made her famous and celebrated all over the world, but she would have been quickly forgotten if it had been only for this.

  She would have enjoyed her fifteen minutes of glory after her nomination, when Worldsend Garrison was the center of interest and everybody was talking about it on Virtualia. Then she probably would have disappeared as soon as some other breaking news would have taken the spotlight.

  We will never know what would have happened if Sergeant Great had chosen the easy way. She could have surfed for some months on her fame, and then conformed to the established routine of the fort. Odds are that this is exactly what President Puhi and all those who put her there expected.

  They’ve been wrong.

  ***

  Sergeant Greta was no puppet whose strings could be pulled in the interest of some politician. She had faith in her mission, and fought for her beliefs until the end. Men like President Puhi or Mayor Emerald could not understand this, because they had never fully grasped what the garrison truly meant.

  Sergeant Greta had not been brought to Worldsend Garrison in the first place because she was a pretty face to show to the media or to fulfill some quota requirements. She was a skilled tactician, a natural leader and a strong-willed person who would never give up. If she had not been notoriously known for her loyalty and willingness to sacrifice everything for what she considers right, she wouldn’t have been called to the fort to start with.

  Politicians couldn’t grasp this simple truth, because they do not think in such manner. They do not fight for anything but themselves, and have no problem in changing direction if those who vote ask them. They believed it would be the same with Sergeant Greta.

  President Puhi never understood that the soldiers in Worldsend Garrison followed her because they saw her as their Commander, the person they trust in protecting them and taking the correct decisions. Would she have been a mere empty suit serving the interest of greedy politicians, she wouldn’t have lasted a week in the fort.

  To their defense, it must be said that not only public officials misjudged Sergeant Greta. The Commander who brought her to the garrison in the first place might have seen the strong woman she was, but he failed to notice where her loyalty really laid.

  ***

  Much has been said about Nacer Cornelius, the young man who came from nowhere and climbed the social ladder until he reached the Head of the Institute for Alien Communication, being effectively the second in command at Worldsend Garrison.

  His love story with Sergeant Greta was no secret. It was all over the place on Virtualia, and actually helped them in becoming famous and adored by the public.

  “The Young Couple Who Will Bring Peace to our World,” “Two Young Lovers to Communicate with Aliens,” “Love as a Universal Language” … such were the headlines at the time.

  A pretty girl with enough strength to lead a garrison and handle the deadliest weapons created by men, a young idealist defending vehemently alternatives to the official statements… No wonder they were adulated. This is what books and movies are made of, and the public was ready to believe this could happen in real life.

  If some had doubts back then, they didn’t dare to express them.

  There are more questions than answers about Nacer Cornelius, and not a single theory has been either confirmed or infirmed.

  Was he indeed in love with Sergeant Greta, or did he use her for as a mere tool to reach his objective? This is impossible to say, as no one but him knows the response, and he’s not there anymore to tell. However, it’s hard to believe that a woman like the Commander of Worldsend Garrison could have been so easily fooled, for such a long time, if I may express a personal opinion.

  Did he really get the information he shared with the rest of us, or was it all the fruit of his imagination? This is a question that has been debated at length both on TV, on Virtualia, and at any coffee machine in the world, back when people were still drinking cappuccinos or watching ne
ws. Again, the truth lies with him and might never be uncovered.

  Has Nacer Cornelius been acting on his own will, or has he been manipulated by the Dark Shadow (I’ll never use this stupid politically correct name that was forced upon everybody back then)? This is maybe the most important question. We all heard the rumors concerning the multilegged monster interfering with human thoughts in the past and some weird incidents have happened in the Karabia Peninsula for centuries.

  The Evil Mother is by far the most famous example.

  ***

  This scandal had happened some fifteen years before the fall of Worldsend Garrison, and had shocked the entire world. A seemingly normal woman, mother of two nice twins, had organized a wonderful birthday party for her kids. Thirty-five of their friends had been invited, and they were all enjoying the bouncy castle rented for the occasion.

  Then, without any apparent motive, she closed the door of the attraction. Other parents saw her doing this and wondered, but they had no time to react. She had already taken her lighter and set the playground on fire. The investigation revealed that it had been filled with a mixture of helium, and that’s the reason why it was engulfed in flames within seconds.

  None of the children survived.

  The woman would have perished if she wouldn’t have been knocked down by some parents running wildly to try to save their kid from the inferno. They got burns on most of their bodies, and the perpetrator escaped with only some scratches.

  She unsuccessfully attempted to kill herself by cutting her veins with the plastic knives the little ones had used to eat the birthday cake, before dashing in front of the fire engine that just arrived to the scene. The driver saw her, managed to swerve at the last second, and she survived.

  Only then neighbors and other passersby went to restrain her. She apparently displayed an unbelievable amount of strength and was heard yelling, “Let me join him, let me join him!”