Sandra McDonald - Wondjina 02 - The Stars Down Under.pdf - Sandra McDonald - widez2

THE STARS DOWN UNDER

Sandra McDonald

[VERSION HISTORY]

v1.0 by the N.E.R.D's. Page numbers removed, paragraphs joined, formatted and a full spell check has

been completed. A full read through is required.

This scan has been taken from an advance reader copy (ARC) and will be close to, but not necessarily

exactly the same as the final retail version.

PROLOGUE

The boy fled for his life.

Across the sun-baked plain, his bare feet kicking up dust, he ran from his father and brothers and uncles.

He was a good child, known throughout the tribe for his kindness and laughter. He was helpful to his

aunties and respectful to the old men. But fear had stained and ruined him.

His brothers shouted, "Coward!"

His uncles shouted, "Become a man!"

The boy carried no water, and soon his parched throat was closing up. Sharp rocks and dried brush

scratched at his legs and tried to trip him. The ocher painted on him for the initiation rites streamed off in

the wind. He fell once, scrambled upright. Fell again, pulled himself up with a strangled moan. Managed

several more steps and then felt the hot jarring thud of a spear as it pierced his right leg and shattered the

bone.

He fell for the last time, sobbing. His father and brothers and uncles gathered around him.

"You shame us," they said. His father spat on him.

The circle of men parted for the arrival of the aunties, his kind and loving aunties, who came at the boy

with their sticks and landed a dozen blows.

No one spoke in the moments afterward. The boy's family stood back from their grisly work. The boy's

eyes stared at them sightlessly. The descending sun had left red streaks across the sky and the bitter air

smelled like blood. At last one of the aunties glanced up and saw the great Rainbow Serpent coiling

down from the clouds with fire in its eyes.

The boy's family screamed and fled.

The next day, when they came for whatever parts of the corpse had been spared by the gods and wild

animals, they found only a smooth black sphere. By noon the sphere was taller and wider than any man

of the tribe. By nightfall it was larger than five men. The wind pushed dust against its side. The ground

beneath it cracked, then heaved upward. For the next thousand years the sphere grew and grew until it

was the largest rock in all the world. In the shifting light of day it turned pink and green, yellow and red,

much like a rainbow.

The locals named the rock Burringurrah, in memory of the murdered boy.

The white men who came later called it Mount Augustus, in the land down under.

Terry Myell, when it was his turn to be murdered atop Burringurrah, was also visited by the Rainbow

Serpent. They say the Serpent saved him, and his wife, and his wife's lover. They say the three of them

rode the Serpent's back into the sky, where even now, on those rare clear nights, they can be seen riding

the tails of comets and dancing on the face of the moon.

Those stories are wrong. This story is true.

ONE

Terry Myell drizzled oil on the vegetables in the wok, reached past his comm-bee for seasoning, and

jumped back in surprise as a crocodile scurried through his kitchen.

"Christ!" he yelled, bumping up against the hard counter top. It was just after oh-seventeen-hundred, a

sunny afternoon in the military suburb of Adeline Oaks on the planet Fortune. His wife, Jodenny would

be working until midnight and he was cooking dinner just for himself. The last thing he had expected to

see was a three-meter-long reptile with sharp teeth, gray scales, and black, hook-shaped claws that

screeched against the floor tile.

The creature whipped around the refrigerator and was gone so quickly that surely he had imagined it.

"Betsy!" he said to the house computer. "Report."

A soothing woman's voice flowed out of the microspeakers in the ceiling. "Inside temperature is twenty

degrees Celsius. A front stove-top element is operating at a setting of two point seven. There's a slight

leak in the guest shower—"

Myell fumbled for the longest knife in the silverware drawer. "Any mammals, reptiles, supernatural

creatures?"

"There's a spider in the living room closet, and several termites burrowing through the rear foundation. A

gecko is hanging off lanai screen number four. That's all I have to report, sir."

Myell crept forward. The floor showed no gouge marks or smeared dirt. The dark beige carpet in the

living room was similarly unmarked, and the front door was dosed. With cold sweat on his neck, he

headed for the master bedroom. He edged past half-empty packing boxes in the hall to the ajar door.

From outside came the sounds of a neighbor's kids kicking around a soccer ball and the hum of flits as

parents returned from work. Everything else was quiet.

"Come out, come out," Myell murmured. "Show yourself."

The master bedroom was awash with afternoon sunlight. His dress white uniform hung neatly on a hook

outside the closet doors, the ribbons and insignia carefully aligned. The bed was a messy rumple of blue

linens and pillows. Beneath them, a hump moved back and forth slowly, obscenely.

He steeled himself and yanked the sheets away.

Karl the Koala blinked up at him with golden eyes and rolled over.

"Rub me, rub my tummy," he sang.

Myell let the knife drop. "Go to sleep, Karl."

The bot rolled to its haunches and scratched himself. Though it understood basic commands, the

programming defaulted to mild disobedience. A real koala would never follow orders like a dog, anyway.

Nor would it talk. Myell still wasn't convinced they needed any mechanical pets underfoot, but Karl

made Jodenny happy.

"He's so cute," she'd said when they saw it at the mall.

Myell could think of something much more adorable and cuddly, but Jodenny had said she wasn't ready

for kids.

Betsy spoke up. "You have new imail in your account, sir. Four challengers have questioned your score

in the latest Mm tournament. And I believe your dinner is burning."

Cursing, Myell hurried back to the kitchen and pulled the wok off the stove. Betsy's vents began sucking

up smoke that reeked of burnt oil and blackened string beans. He dumped the mess into the disposal and

accidentally knocked the knife off the counter. When he tried to catch it, the blade cut into his finger.

"I detect blood, sir. Do you have a medical emergency?" Betsy asked.

"I'm fine," he said through gritted teeth. The slice was long but shallow. 'And I've told you, stop calling

me sir. It's Chief Myell, or Terry. Got it?"

"Yes, sir."

A little self-sealant took care of the cut. The stir-fry was ruined, so he threw together a salad instead.

Afterward he checked the imails and saw three more media inquiries. Reporters, always damn reporters.

He deleted them, as he had all the other requests that had come in during the last four weeks.

He took a beer to the sofa and kicked his feet up. "Betsy, are there references to crocodiles in Australian

Aboriginal mythology?"

"I find several instances in which people are reputed to have been eaten or transformed into crocodiles.

One tribe revered the crocodile as a totemic god. Would you like me to send the information to your

bee?"

"No. Forget I asked." On the Aral Sea he had experienced visions of an Aboriginal shaman, and on a

long, strange top-secret trip across the galaxy he had seen a Rainbow Serpent. He'd hoped he was done

with all of it.

Karl climbed up onto the cushions beside him.

"Koala, my ass," Myell said. "You're probably a god in disguise."

The robot rolled backward and repeated his plea for a tummy rub.

"Talk to Mommy," Myell said.

* * * * *

Betsy was the oldest house in the neighborhood, and her nighttime temperature controls were erratic.

Though he meant to stay up for Jodenny, Myell fell asleep on the sofa and woke every hour or so

because he was too cold, or too hot, or too cold again. When he did sleep, he dreamed of crocodiles in

a deep cave, hissing and snapping their razor-sharp teeth. At oh-four-hundred he woke shaking with

dread, and stumbled to the bathroom to splash cold water on his flushed face.

He went to the bedroom and burrowed into the sheets. He was just dozing off again when the wallgib

beeped and Jodenny's image rolled into view

"Betsy told me you were up," she said. "Everything okay?"

"Fine." Myell turned his head into a pillow, then turned to eye her. "Why aren't you home?"

"There was an accident with some academy students, a big mess." She was as beautiful as ever, but dark

circles hung under her eyes. Her lieutenant commander bars glinted on the screen. "They borrowed a

birdie for fun and crashed into the ocean. I've been fending off the media for hours. I don't think 'I'll be

home before you leave."

He shrugged one shoulder.

"I wanted to send you off to your new job in style," she said. "I'm sorry."

Myell was sorry, too. Their last ship, the Aral Sea, had barely entered orbit before new duty assignments

arrived in their queues. Fledgling plans for a honeymoon had been abruptly discarded. Jodenny's new

position at Fleet was prestigious but demanding. Lately he'd seen more of his reflection than he'd seen of

her.

Jodenny touched the gib screen, as if trying to pat his cheek. "Be kind to your students, won't you? I

remember how hard it was for me to memorize everything."

"I don't think they're going to throw me in front of a classroom today."

"They should. You'll be great." A gib pinged, and Jodenny glanced off screen. "Got to go. Call me later."

"Love you," he said, but the connection was already dead.

Further sleep eluded him. He played Izim for a while but got killed multiple times. Just before dawn he

pulled on some gym clothes. He opened the top drawer of his dresser and palmed a small dilly bag.

Inside were two carved totems of geckos. One had been a gift, and the other had been his mother's..

For the first time in months he tied the bag around his waist and felt its comforting weight.

Outside, the air was hot and dawn was just lightening the sky. The faux-brick homes were a bit affluent

for his tastes, but Jodenny's rank had its privileges and he supposed he'd have to get used to them. At the

end of the street was a steep wooded hill dotted with senior-officer homes. He jogged up it, the dilly bag

bouncing against his skin. The exertion left him winded but the view at the top was worth it.

"Good morning, Kimberley," he said.

The rising sun sent yellow light streaking over Fortune's capital city. Myell could see the Parliament

buildings, the graceful expanse of the Harbor Bridge, and a wide, disorienting expanse of silver-blue

ocean. He hated the ocean. In the center of the city stood the Team Space pyramid, blue and clean and

beautiful, the hub of its interplanetary operations.

The birds had woken up, kookaburras and doves mostly, and over their song he heard the unmistakable

sound of an approaching security flit. Myell kept his gaze on the city and his hands in plain sight on the

railing.

"Good morning, sir,'" a woman's voice said behind him. "Routine security check. Everything all right up

here?"

Slowly he turned. "Good morning, officers. Everything's fine."

The woman was a brunette with the insignia of a regular tech. Her nametag read m. chin. Her partner,

Apprentice Mate H. Saro, was smaller and slimmer, and had the coiled tenseness of a dog with

something to prove.

"Do you live here, sir?" RT Chin asked.

"Chief Myell. I just moved in. Twenty-four hundred Eucalyptus Street," he said.

"Chiefs don't live in officer housing," Saro said.

Myell pushed down a flare of annoyance. He reached carefully into his pocket and handed over his

identification card. Chin retreated with it to the flit. Saro rested one hand on the mazer in his belt and tried

to look fierce.

"Are there regulations against people taking a morning walk?" Myell asked him.

"Most people don't walk around when it's still dark out."

"Sun's up," Myell pointed out.

Saro glared at him. "And they have the common sense to exercise in the gym."

"Fresh air's better for you."

Chin returned. "Sorry Chief. You're all clear. People get nervous when they look out their windows and

see a strange face, that's all. Welcome to the neighborhood."

"But he's not—" Saro started.

"Shut up, Hal." Chin nodded briskly at Myell. "Can we give you a lift home, Chief?"

"No. I'll walk."

Saro gave him one last suspicious look before the security flit drove off. Myell started downhill. He

imagined eyes watching him from every window. An hour later, after forcing down breakfast and

checking his uniform for the tiniest flaws, he joined the morning crowd at the monorail station. He hung

back against the railing so he wouldn't sprain his elbow offering salutes. A few curious glances came his

way, but no one spoke to him or challenged his right to be there.

He didn't flaunt his Silver Star, but a lieutenant with bloodshot eyes eyed it and said, "Earn that the hard

way?"

"Is there any other way, sir?" Myell asked.

The lieutenant squinted at Myell's deployment patches. "That's the Aral Sea's emblem. You help beat off

those terrorists at Baiame?"

"Something like that."

The lieutenant raised his coffee cup in salute, then turned away as a train pulled in.

Kimberley's public transportation system was a hub-and-spoke design. At Green Point Myell transferred

Sandra McDonald - Wondjina 02 - The Stars Down Under.pdf

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