Jean Preston: Sledgehammer

“We’re not going to hurt you! We just need answers!”

Loma gave up the struggle, going limp. The man relaxed his grip slightly. “I need to tell you something.” She whispered, her voice barely audible through the electronic filter.

“What?” said the man.

Loma whispered something, slightly too quiet for the man to pick up. He leant in next to her helmet. She head-butted him, and as he instinctively cradled his skull in his hands, she elbowed him in the stomach. He punched her helmet, cracking the visor slightly, he regained control of her wrists.

A second figure approached. It was a woman, wearing some green sham uniform. She rested the muzzle of her long rifle on Loma’s helmet.

“Get her up,” She said. “Away from the ship.”

“Take the helmet off,” barked Alana

Loma hesitated, then slowly unstrapped the helmet, the air tight-seal whistling slightly, her eyes adjusted to the light. She tossed the helmet to the ground carelessly and shook out her hair. It was black and straight, constantly shifting in the wind. She was in her 30’s, strikingly beautiful. Her eyes were jet black – in this light, and they stared at Alana and Kirwyn with barely contained contempt.

“Who are you?” demanded Alana

“Loma.”

“Where do you come from?”

Loma looked to the west. She shrugged. They had abandoned her. She spoke in an accent that was bizarre to the two interrogators. “I am from an island called Avalon, thousands of miles away.”

“I never heard of it,” said Alana. “What are you doing out here?”

“My ride crashed on me,” she said, smiling joylessly.

Kirwyn interjected – “What were you doing here before your flying machine crashed?”

“That’s none of your business, asshole,” said Loma in a flat tone. She stared him down until he looked away. Alana’s gaze did not break.

“You’re alone out here right?” asked Alana “We’ve been watching you a while.”

Loma didn’t respond, she switched her gaze from Kirwyn to Alana, staring down into her piercing blue eyes, the girl was a head shorter than her. “And judging by your arts and crafts—” Alana continued, gesturing to the grassy ship. “You don’t expect to be rescued any time soon.”

“You don’t intimidate me,” said Loma, coldly. She stepped forward – Alana stepped back, raising her long rifle. Loma continued speaking as if nothing happened: “My ship’s a wreck, you can have it. It’s leaking radiation out the ass, but you can fight over the scraps if you want. As for me, stop pointing that musket at my head.” The two stared each other down. Loma moved forward again.

“Don’t – take another step,” said Alana.

“I don’t think you have it in you, in all honesty. I think you only shoot people when they have their backs turned and you’re a mile away. I think you’re a scared little girl. That’s what I think. If you’re gonna shoot me, shoot me – otherwise BACK OFF!”

Alana slid the bolt of her rifle for effect, and pointed the gun squarely at Loma’s chest. Loma smiled.

“Bolt action” she muttered to herself.

“Listen!” squeaked Kirwyn. “I think we got off on the wrong foot… We’re not here to steal from you.” He paused – remembering that he stole her gun, he continued: “You seem like a decent enough person, you’re in a bit of trouble – we’re in a bit of trouble… maybe we could help each other out?”

Loma looked at the man, bored. “Tell her to put the gun down and then maybe we can talk.”

“Alana,” he said. She didn’t respond. He gently pushed the rifle away, she acquiesced.

“Good,” said Loma, flashing a little smile at Alana. “Well you know my troubles, what do you want from me?”

There was a long silence. Alana looked down.

“Will your ship ever fly again?”

“Perhaps.”

“A long… time ago, I saw a ship like yours, white with blue flames, my mother told me it came from a city in the sea – where it was always summer and safe, there was no toil or disease, it was like the best of the old days… and it was real.”

Loma’s look softened. Alana spoke up again “That’s the place you come from isn’t it?”

Loma didn’t respond.

“-well I want to go there, I want you to take me with you.”

Loma placed her hands behind her back, she looked around her.

“Supposing what you say is true, supposing I do take you with me. What will I get in return?”

“I’ll fix your ship.”

“You don’t know how.”

“I know this country better than you do – better than anyone. I can find you anything you need. Parts, fuel, steel. I can get you food, clean water – and stop you getting killed. You’ll live because of me.”

Loma bowed her head, considering for a while.

“What about him?” she asked, “What’s his deal?”

“She saved my life, so I’m helping her out,” said Kirwyn “I didn’t even want to come here. I don’t want anything from you.” He wandered off.

Loma shrugged “Fine,” she said. “You got a mean right hook kid, you got a lot of experience beating women?”

Kirwyn’s face darkened and he looked away.

“You—” she turned to Alana “Annie Oakley, you know where I can get turn of the century plane parts?”

“I know someone who would know,” she said quietly.

“Ok, ok… good enough. Alana was it? And your manservant?”

“Kirwyn,” she said blankly.

“Ok Alana, you got yourself a deal. If I’m alive and flying my plane, you’re gonna be with me. I’m not gonna lie, it’s not all sunshine and rainbows where I come from. But it’s a hell of a lot better than – this,” she gestured widely. “Nobody born outside the city walls is guaranteed citizenship, but I could put in a good word. I could work something out. We got a deal?”

“Deal,” said Alana, and they shook hands awkwardly. Loma squeezed too tight with her metallic and rubber hand.

The three travellers made for Moortown – it was independent, well outside the reach of Retragrad or any other local power. Alana was supposed to still be on an expeditionary mission. In two weeks, when she did not return, she would be assumed dead. This suited her just fine. If she went home she would be pressed back into service and Loma would most likely be discovered as a useful foreigner, and imprisoned for information.

One advantage Retragrad did have was the road system. Even though it was slightly further away from their current location, the roads were well maintained, with frequent guard posts and resting houses, making the journey shorter and more pleasant. Going to Moortown was tougher, the moors were lawless; it was a land of gangs and outlaws. Moortown was the only sedentary community, every other village moved on wheels or hoofs.

Alana was familiar with the land, having ranged there when she was Robin’s age. She knew the popular routes of the caravans – these drew bandits and as such were avoided. The first day – torrential rain followed them. Loma was safe in her air-tight armour, but Alana and Kirwyn were soaked to the skin.

Loma told them of Avalon, its marble walls, its gardens, the harbour, the freshwater lagoon. Most of all she spoke of the Hall of Heroes. A massive structure that lay half underwater, here lay the barracks, the naval docks and the landing grounds. She walked ahead of them and spoke slowly and used simple language, and would often clarify things that needed no clarification.

They came across a horde of wild boars and shot one of them. Alana gutted it and cut out slabs of meat. Loma stood and watched the bloody business, arms crossed. The helmet made her expression inscrutable, but underneath she was repulsed, every meal she had ever eaten had come out of a vat or off a stalk.