Homesick

The patio buzzed with an orchestra of conversations in Dutch, French, and German, and the aroma of food drifted amid the café tables and celebrating faces. It was a bright, spring day and the flower boxes in the neighboring shops and terraces tinted and reflected the mid-day sun like a prism of life. Three skilled musicians blew tones like smoke-rings from inside café’s dark interior. Jackie started to pour herself another drink from a tall, white bottle, but Sally caught the mouth of the flask, restraining the flow to measure out half a glass.

Jackie pouted.

Sally shook her head. “We’ve talked about this before. This is one habit you don’t want to get into. Believe me, I know.”

“Okay, Mother,” she said in mock disappointment. “But it’s not like it matters here. All I can do is taste it, right?”

“Not this time,” Rachel said from across the table. “With this program you can become intoxicated with any substance you can find around you.”

Jackie looked surprised. “But I thought that was illegal. Aren’t those programs restricted?”

“Different program. This doesn’t just simulate physical reactions to controlled substances. It works on your actual memories instead.” She paused, looking to Jackie for understanding. “As long as you know what it’s like to get drunk, you can. You could even get high as long as you have some idea what that experience is like.”

“That’s right, this is The Netherlands! I forgot about that!”

“Don’t give this one ideas,” Sally said, petting Jackie’s head. “We don’t want to get into that habit either.”

Jackie waved to Ian and Angela, who were squeezing their way through the round, wicker tables. Rachel moved one seat over to clear a spot for them.

Ian led the way, smiling. Angela had been admiring the detail of the scene with profound amazement, but at the sight of the three women seated together she stiffened and slowed her pace. Sally tried to not to notice.

“Scott and Carrie will be right along!” Ian announced. “My word, you sure know how to pick them, Sally!”

“Actually, you can thank Jackie for that.” She handed Ian a postcard. The view featured a vibrant impressionist painting of the very scene they were sitting in. The card folded open to reveal other views of the café and the street it was on.

“Jackie did the cover. They commissioned her when she was in town.”

He looked back and forth from card to café and then handed it back with a respectful nod.

“I come here often,” Jackie said. “It’s a wonderful place to meet people!”

“And all this is from your memory?” Ian looked around in fascination.

“Except the sun,” she said with a laugh. “Usually it’s raining. I guess sometimes virtual reality beats real reality.”

“As long as it’s used properly,” Rachel added.

Ian looked to Jackie. “Well, as long as you’re the expert here, I don’t suppose you could give us an idea what to order, could you? But then, I’m dying for a curry, actually.”

“Oh, you don’t have to order! That’s the fun of it. Rachel told us, as long as you’ve had it before, you can just imagine it! But, if you’d like, I can imagine you up some of the nicest Dutch food you’ve ever had.”

“Well, that gives one something to think about. Food for thought, you might say. Or thought for food,” he joked.

“You’re a card, Ian!” She looked to Angela, but she didn’t smile back.

Scott and Carrie walked in arm and arm and joined the group. They found a table next to theirs. Carrie exchanged glances with Rachel as they sat.

“I’m glad you could join us, Scott,” Sally said, her smile blooming. “I think this celebration is more about you than anything else! I know I’ve probably said it more times than you’ll ever want to hear, but welcome back!”

“Hear, hear!” Ian said, raising a wine glass that mysteriously appeared in front of him. The others joined in with smiles and clinking glasses. Scott sipped at his wine, looking slightly uncomfortable, but he smiled his boyish, apple-pie grin to the group just the same.

Then a tall, casually dressed waiter weaved through the tables carrying an almost impossibly large armload of plates, which he began setting before them.

Ian looked at his in amazement. There on the plate was a beautiful serving of lamb with mint sauce. “And there’s mushy peas!” He sniffed the air. “Minted mushy peas! I didn’t even know I wanted that!”

“But you did,” Poole said, smiling with pride.

“That was Mum’s dish! She spent years getting it right!”

“And it should be just as you remember it.”

Angela’s plate contained a generous meat pie, which prompted a smile even she couldn’t suppress completely.

“There you go, Pet, your favorite!”

The remaining plates met with more murmurs of anticipation and surprise. The waiter set down Scott’s plate last and bowed politely. “Austerblieft!” he said as he turned to leave.

But, unlike the others, Scott’s plate was empty. Ian and Sally reacted with concern, but Carrie and Rachel didn’t look surprised. Scott looked down at his plate and then to Rachel.

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of, Scott. We’ll try something simple today. You know what we agreed.”

He nodded.

Carrie picked up his plate and set it down again. When she did, it was piled with steak, mashed potatoes, and corn.

“It’s your favorite T-bone, Hon, fresh off the grill, just the way you like it! Give ’er a try! You always loved the way I made it for you.” She set his napkin on his lap. “And there’s plenty of nice brown gravy for those potatoes!”

Rachel saw Sally’s unspoken question. “He’s still having trouble with his eating habits. We’re trying to re-introduce him to things a bit at a time.”

Sally nodded, but watched him with concern.

He cut a small section of the steak and lifted it to his mouth, chewing with a pensive expression.

“How is it, Mate?” Ian asked.

“Dunno,” Scott answered. “It must be an acquired taste. I’ll have to acquire it again, I suppose.”

“Well, you eat some and you can take a break,” Carrie said, turning to her own plate.

“This is a dream!” Angela spoke up, smiling in spite of herself. “I haven’t had a steak and kidney pie like this in years! Crust is perfect, hot scones, the lot! And you could eat all day and never get fat!”

“It’s a marvel,” Ian agreed. “But Rachel’s right, it can get a little too real sometimes. The Captain and I found that out, sure enough.”

“Speaking of which, is it true you won’t be needing that program we made anymore?” Rachel asked Sally. “I’m clearing up some space on the mainframe. The institute’s been wonderful, but some of their people have research to do, too.”

“Vlad’s program?”

She nodded.

“Don’t worry, you can talk about it. I’ve decided he’s had enough. If he hasn’t learned his lesson by now, he never will. Let Earth decide what happens to him. If they want to throw him a tickertape parade in Moscow, what do I care?”

Ian looked to her with mild concern.

“And I can change my mind, too,” she said with a mock pout. “It’s a woman’s prerogative and a captain’s privilege.” She paused for emphasis. “At least it is when I’m captain.”

Ian raised his glass to her and smiled. Sally returned his sentiment, mouthing a thank you.

Scott’s progress with his food remained slow and he was clearly growing more uncomfortable, though he tried to keep pace with the others. Finally, he covered his mouth with his napkin and backed away from his plate.

Rachel examined what he had eaten. “That’s okay for now, Scott. You can take a break.” She then handed him what appeared to be a glass of milk. He drank it with an expression of relief, downing it easily in one great gulp. But, when he set it down they could see chunks of congealed curd clinging to the inside of the glass. The foul smell of rot drifted with his breath as he sighed. A moment later the remaining food on his plate metamorphosed into a pile of rotting garbage. Angela set down her utensils in surprise and disgust. All were staring.

“Oh, dear!” Carrie said. “Scott, why don’t we get a table over there while you eat? We can rejoin the others later.” She looked to Sally with an apologetic smile. “Excuse us, Captain.”

Sally frowned with concern as they left and she almost rose to follow.

“It’s going to take time,” Rachel explained. “He’s with us again, but you have to remember this conditioning was very strong. We can’t expect him to be rid of it in a day.” She motioned to their table. “He remembers his family, he remembers you, and he’s gained control of his life. That’s the important thing. In time, I’m sure we can wean him off some of these unusual habits he has left over.”

Sally shook her head. “I’m sorry. I guess I just wish he were totally cured.”

“Cured isn’t really the right word, Sally. An alcoholic can achieve perfect sobriety without ever being ‘cured.’ You can also think of him like a stroke victim who has to work to recover the use of his fingers. A little practice each day and it’ll eventually seem natural again. But he’ll need regular therapy for a long time, possibly for the rest of his life. And he may never be completely normal again, I’m sorry to say. He may never recover his tastes in food, for example, but hopefully that’ll be the worst of it.”

Sally shrugged. “Well, I suppose there’s no accounting for taste. My mother liked over-ripe bananas and some people here eat Limburger cheese. Maybe that’s not too far off. Is there any danger of relapse?” she asked with more concern.

“I don’t think it’ll be a problem once we get him home and back to his old routines,” she assured her. “In order for him to revert, the conditioning would have to reestablish itself over his entire personality. That would take a traumatic event similar to what we used to bring him back. But I am concerned about a partial relapse.”

“What do you mean?”

“Remember when I said to think of his personality like a straight piece of metal?”

“Yes, and they bent it.”

“In order for us to straighten it, we had to bend it pretty hard in the opposite direction. And, though it may appear straight now, there will always be forces within him trying to bend back. My concern now is for his comfort and that of his family.” She motioned to Scott and Carrie. “Right now he wants to come home to Earth. But, if he met a Master on the street or even saw that symbol they carry, it could destroy months of work.”

“Like an alcoholic taking a drink.”

“Exactly. And that’s why I’m recommending we suppress any and all things that could remind him of his experience out here once he gets home.”

“Poor old sod,” Ian said, shaking his head.

“And they’d have done that to all of you, wouldn’t they?” Angela asked Sally.

“That or have us do it to you.”

“Then isn’t it good you don’t have to worry about them anymore?”

Ian snorted.

“No, really! Captain, could you please talk some sense into my husband? I for one sleep much better knowing the whole bloody lot of those creatures is out of the picture!”

“Angela, please!” Ian grumbled. “The Captain doesn’t have to__”

“No, I will, Ian, thank you,” she said, facing Angela. “Mrs. Merryfield, I admit you have a point. I agree they were a threat to us and we needed to deal with them. But, as Captain, I had to decide how. I felt we were safe in orbit, at least until we could leave for Earth. I also felt that, should we ever actually declare war on New Ontario, and I hope we don’t continue to call it that, capable military personnel and equipment would be sent to fight it. I came here to explore, not to fight. I’d also add that dropping a bomb with no real provocation would be pretty stupid if they’d had similar weapons we didn’t know about.”

Sally sipped her drink, but maintained Angela’s attention. “But, on a personal level, I’m even more prejudiced.”

Jackie took her hand as if to protect her.

“Mrs. Merryfield, your family and Ian’s have a military background, correct?”

“And we’re proud of it.”

“But sometimes things happen in war that nobody should be proud of. You have a perfect right to be proud of Ian’s Granddad. He sounds like a fine man who lived through more than most of us ever had to.”

She nodded.

“But my Grandfather was also involved with war. He helped develop the nuclear weapons America stockpiled during the Cold War. Naturally, he died young.”

“Radiation?” Ian asked.

“We think so, but nobody’s sure.”

She regarded Angela again. “My parents used to watch the explosions when they were kids. They sat in bleachers miles away and wore dark glasses. They also wore strips of film that would darken if they were exposed to too much radiation, not that it would protect them if they were. They treated it like a fireworks display, but all along they were playing with death.”

“They did in Australia too,” Ian added.

“As a doctor, I know exactly what happens to the victims of nuclear weapons. It’s hard to think of the survivors as survivors in the true sense.” She paused for emphasis. “My parents lived with the threat of nuclear holocaust much of their lives. My generation lived with the threat of nuclear terrorism. And, if people died by the millions, I’d have known that my family played some small role in making it possible. Now, as a human being, I can promise you I’d never unleash that kind of destructive power on anyone.”

“But after what they did to him?” Angela pointed to Scott. “They must be treated like the enemy!”

“They are,” Sally agreed. “And they’re obviously hostile. I personally wish we’d never met them. But I’d gladly give my life right here and right now if it would reverse the harm we’ve done to them.”

“And most of the people killed were not Masters,” Ian chimed in.

Angela looked from Ian to Sally, sensing she was outnumbered. “I suppose you’re allowed your opinion,” she finally said.

There was an awkward silence that nobody seemed to know how to fill.

“I’d better go check on the Andersons,” Rachel said, excusing herself.

Jackie looked about the group, disappointed that the beautiful mood she’d worked so hard to create was being disrupted. “Maybe we could take in a show somewhere. Ian, would you and Angela like that?”

Angela appeared uncomfortable with the idea and Sally could imagine why.

“Why don’t we go window shopping for a while?” Sally suggested. “I’m sure Ian and Angela would like to see the shopping streets. Perhaps we can all meet back here later for a drink.”

Jackie sighed in disappointment as they all got up.

“Actually, why don’t you two go on,” Ian said. “I think I know a good place Angela and I can do some window shopping. We’ll catch you up later.”

Sally nodded to Ian with a look that contained gratitude. Then she left, holding Jackie’s hand.

Angela kept silent until they were out of earshot. “Do they have to do that in public?”

“In case you’ve forgotten, this isn’t public!” he shouted, drawing a surprised look from her. “Let’s go!” He took her hand and pulled her through the rows of tables and out of the cafe’s terrace. He then led her through the crowded market outside. The streets all looked alike to Angela, with bustling crowds of people entering and exiting the tiny shops. But Ian didn’t look at the store windows or even where he was going. He just kept walking at a deliberate pace, glancing down at his hand-held for directions. They finally stopped at a large courtyard with a view of an ancient church.

“Okay, where are we supposed to be?” Angela asked, annoyed.

“In my quarters, away from the others. I have something I want to show you. Dr. Poole told me how to access it, but I never thought I would.”

He entered a series of commands into his wrist pad and the world changed.

Ground zero!

They stood in the ruins of the labor camp, where Vlad had wandered for untold hours of penance.

“My God, Ian!” she said, coughing at the steamy air.

“Take a look! This is what the bomb did! The bomb you wanted to see dropped!”

“This is uncalled for!” she protested. “I’ll not stay!”

“Oh, you will alright! Look over there.” He pointed to the ruined forest, which was now nothing more than a collection of blackened tree stumps and scorched earth. “Your dad was a Green, wasn’t he? Any idea how long it’ll take that lot to grow again? It isn’t just the fire either. That soil’s poisoned!”

He motioned to the rubble of the camp. “And look at the bodies! Go on, look!”

Human remains were scattered everywhere. They were all dead now and the fires had mostly died down to embers. But the resulting silence increased the impact of the scene all the more. Blackened faces stared in silent cries and everywhere was the smell of death.

“Love, we have a right to be proud of my Granddad and yours. They fought for something worthwhile. But, up till then, war was different. It was almost civil in its way and they tried to make it fair when they could.”

He motioned to the smashed landscape. “This isn’t war, this is death. Nobody wins a war like this!”

Angela stood still, hearing her husband out, but clearly shaken by what she saw.

“Sally thought we’d outgrown all this because we didn’t do it to ourselves. But she’s right! If we can still cheer when people die this way on another planet, we’re showing our true colors then, aren’t we?”

He took her hand. “You don’t know her, Ange! She’s a decent woman and she’s got a strength. But she’s sensitive, too. You know what she did when she first knew about this? She only tried to come down and help! Straight up! In fact, I had to stop her. And she still would’ve done if the launch sequence hadn’t happened when it did.” He shook his head. “No good, mind you. She couldn’t have saved any of them, she knew that. She’d only have gotten sick herself. She’s a doctor, she bloody well knew that! But she might have made a few of them more comfortable before they died. And that would have been worth her life to her.”

He took Angela’s shoulders. “She’s a good woman, Ange, and I’ll not have you putting her down anymore. Now, it was out of line what you did back there. She didn’t have to invite you, did she? And, when it’s our turn to throw a party, you can bet she’ll be atop my guest list! She’s my friend and so’s Jackie. I’m sorry if you can’t cope with it, that they fancy each other. We don’t have to believe it’s right. We don’t have to participate. But we can be friends. And if you can’t, you can just keep all that to yourself from now on!”

Angela looked at him, her expression taking on quiet respect. “I can see you’re taken with her.”

“I am.”

She laughed. “If she weren’t gay, I’d probably be jealous!”

Ian bit his tongue to suppress an ironic chuckle, grateful that uncommitted sins need never be confessed!

“I suppose the fact she means this much to you should be enough for me.”

“You get to know people when you’re out here. You get to see what they’re made of. We owe each other our lives now, both before we got on this ship and after.”

“Okay, then. I owe you that. It just might take me some time.”

“Time we’ve plenty of.”

She looked again at the parched earth, letting her gaze drift along the horizon. “And you’re right. This wasn’t our grands’ war. And it shouldn’t be our children’s.’”

Ian smiled, relieved to have made his point. Then the hell around them transformed back into the crowded Dutch streets peppered with bicycles bouncing by on the cobblestones.

“The tabloids were right about one thing though, Pet,” Ian said.

“What?”

“Sally’s girl, Jackie is clairvoyant. She predicted the bomb! If they ever publish that one, it’s straight up!”

“And I’m sure she’s a nice person once you get past the way she dresses.”

“She might say the same about you one day,” Ian said, taking her hand.

They linked elbows and walked down the colorful street, pausing to admire the decorated windows. “And she’s a bloody good artist if she can conjure all this from memory, I don’t mind saying. It’s a good thing, too! I don’t fancy a boat trip to come here in the real.”

They both laughed then and let themselves disappear into the stream of faces.