EdenvalesSecret Page 4

  As always, he had risen early and, after a quick breakfast of black coffee and bitter marmalade on toast, Kris approached Fern’s home. All the farm houses were similar. Built entirely from local produce such as daub walls, wooden frames and thatched roofs, Kris felt he had stepped back in time to the books he had seen at school about places like Somerset and Stratford Upon Avon. The houses were generally two windows high and two wide and had a central chimney which warmed every room efficiently. The main living room of the house was upstairs by the thatch which covered the entire top storey, with two large doors leading out to a wooden balcony running the circular diameter of the roof.

  He rapped upon the wooden door, surprised at the thickness of it. An old looking woman answered his call, with a kindly wrinkled and weathered face. She, too, was a Steeler, with yellow skin but she had less of a fire behind the eyes. She wore the brown work garments he had seen on Brody’s screen.

  “You must be Kris.” She smiled. “Come in, please. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to greet you last night but I fell asleep in front of the fire. Working all day does that to me now I’m over one hundred. Who would you like to see?”

  “Either Mr. or Miss Evergreen.”

  “You’re a man of few words.”

  “Sorry?”

  “Never mind. Mr. Evergreen’s out at present. He’s been getting up very early since this strange business began, checking on his crops and livestock at every opportunity. Fairly driving him mad, it is. Fern’s gathering mord in the East field. You can wait until she gets back if you like? Would you care for some lemon tea?”

  “No, thank you. Work to be done. I will talk to Miss Evergreen and be on my way.”

  Before Mrs. Evergreen could say more, Kris was gone and was striding away to the East field which was cut off from the North field by the life-giving Aqua Arm One, a rapidly running but shallow tributary of clear blue. A wooden bridge arced between the fields and his footsteps sounded hollow on the wooden planks, alerting Fern to his approach.

  “Good morning. I hope you slept well.”

  “Very well,” Kris replied.

  “People say that about the air here. Edenvale is a wonderful place. Very relaxing and refreshing.”

  Kris blushed a little, remembering how refreshed he had been. “Yes, I see that.”

  “Have you tried mord before? It’s something my father introduced from Steeler.”

  “No.”

  “I’m surprised. We’ve been exporting it for a while now. Perhaps it’s not reached your system yet.”

  “I’ll check our replicator.”

  “No need,” Fern walked onto the bridge and presented Kris with one of the meaty mushrooms from her wicker basket that was brimming full of the vegetable. “Try one of these.”

  Kris cautiously sniffed at the strange vegetable. “Shouldn’t they be cooked or something?”

  “If you like, but they are just as good raw.” Fern broke a chunk from one and pushed it to Kris’s lips. “Try it. I promise it won’t kill you. Unless you’re allergic, of course. Willing to take a risk?”

  Kris smiled and took the food from her fingers. His lips brushed against her fingertips and she pulled them away. “It’s good. Can I?”

  Kris took the rest of the mord and ate it thankfully. Peacefully, he looked about him. Excepting the spoiled field of brastley, Edenvale was certainly beautiful, even more so in the sunlight. Large flat fields mosaiced the landscape, painted with a palette of green, brown, gold and yellow, occasionally partitioned by a simple wooden fence and dotted here and there with a thatched farmhouse. Sometimes he could see people walking around the veranda of their homes taking a morning drink or snack. To the north were mauve hillocks, some with snow caps, and cascading down the middle was a misty waterfall. Up above, the sky was clearly and brightly blue with a molten sun trickling down like in a children’s painting.

  “Do you think you can find who is doing this to us?” Fern’s voice broke his tranquillity.

  “That’s my job.”

  “That’s not an answer.”

  Kris was not used to his answers being questioned but he liked the way Fern did it, playfully and probingly. “I’ll try.”

  “Good. Well, we can start here. I’ve been checking these mord as I’ve harvested them. They seem healthy and they certainly taste good. The cattle and sheep are fine. There is a pig that I’m worried about, however. The vet’s coming to see her. She’s due to give birth quite soon, it’s probably all part of it.”

  “Is she unwell?”

  “She’s not on her feet and she seems breathless.”

  “Show me.”

  The Evergreens kept their livestock close to the farmhouse and the pigs had plenty of room in a comfortable pen full of mud and straw. Kris inhaled the unforgettable stench, once again reminded of a happier time. Strange how the smell of manure never bothered him. Fern lent him a pair of her father’s Wellingtons and he squelched through the sucking mud towards the unhappy sow.

  “See?” Fern asked. “She seems hot and her breathing’s awkward.”

  Kris bent close to the pig and lifted up her flappy ears. “She is hot. Can you get some cold towels? We can keep her comfortable until the vet arrives.”

  Despite Kris and Fern’s efforts, and those of the vet, the pig died. Birch was not happy that Kris wanted to take the body away for examination but Kris took her nevertheless. Fern wanted to help but Kris sent her away, for two reasons. Firstly, he was certain that her presence in the narrow closeness of The Scarab would interrupt his concentration and, convincing himself that his connection with her was purely a fad, dismissed her.

  Alone outside The Scarab, out of sight of the homestead, Kris used his knives to cut up the body, then put the rest into cold storage in a purpose built trunk under the vehicle’s floor. Most bounty hunters have a detailed anatomical knowledge since this improves their deadliness in combat. Since Kris excelled in this area, Brody suggested he furthered his skills and, once mutually agreed, Kris became a full fledged pathologist and such expertise had proven itself useful on numerous occasions.

  Samples were taken from the sow’s body and limbs, including skin, bone and internal organs but, when they were scrutinised under Kris’s microscope, they showed nothing unusual. Even when Kris double checked. Next he took from storage a piglet. Almost fully formed, Kris felt pity that the animal never had the chance to snuffle around in the mud. Again, the autopsy showed nothing. That was until, however, the third piglet went under the knife. Immediately Kris knew that something was wrong. His blade would not cut properly. That was because this piglet’s skeletal system was actually a metal infrastructure. No internal organs existed except a stomach and intestines which had been fashioned from some sort of incredibly tough, yet flexible, rubber.

  Under some very hot water, Kris scrubbed his hands and nails and walked back to the farm where Fern answered the door.

  “I think you owe me an explanation,” he demanded.

  “What? I don’t understand.”

  “About what is going on at this farm.”

  Fern shook her head. “I’m afraid I still don’t follow you.”

  “Come with me.” Kris hastily led the way and showed Fern the piglet, cut open to reveal the metal inside. He had thought that she may have shied away, uncomfortable at the sight, but instead Fern examined the body carefully, poking with a scalpel at the so-called bones.

  “She had robotic piglets?” she asked incredulously.

  “Just one. You didn’t know about this?”

  “Of course not. I detest robotics in farming. This is an absolute outrage! Who would do such a thing to us?”

  “That’s what I’m here to find out. Have you noticed any strange behaviour around the sty? Anybody there who should not have been? Anybody there for longer than usual?”

  “No,” Fern stammered. “I can’t believe that robotics are here, on this farm. My father will have a fit!”

  “I believe some sort of robotic ex
periment might also be the cause of your brastley failure,” Kris admitted.

  “Why so?” asked Fern.

  “I found something glimmering in the sun, lodged in the soil in the field that day. I brought it back here to examine, but it was too damaged to make any rash insinuation. However, the computer did identify it as robotic in origin.”

  “This is awful. A complete disaster. How much more is infected? I dare not imagine.”

  “There’s more.” Kris paused. “These robotics, they all originate from Steeler.”

  “What?” Fern gasped. “You must be wrong.”

  Kris shook his head. The computer was never wrong. If there was any doubt, it’s database would have mentioned the other possibilities. Steeler was definitely the source.

  With tears in her eyes, Fern turned on her heel and ran from The Scarab.

  Kris wanted to follow, but wavered as he knew he must first secure the important evidence. Once the robotic piglet was safely bagged and back in storage, Kris took off after her. In the dusty forecourt and across the stubbly field, her footsteps were easy to track. However, after she crossed the bridge she disappeared into the mord field. Determined not to give up finding the stunning Steeler in distress, not to mention being quite concerned that Fern could divulge the information to the wrong party, or that she could even be the culprit herself, it became imperative that Kris find her.

  Chapter Eight

  Utopia

  One short Worm Hole journey away, a small craft touched safely down in central Pasturn on planet Steeler, the busy city from whence all roads fanned out in straight lines. The weather was pleasant, it was a calm and mildly sunny day, and the new arrival stood for a moment at the apex of the glass pyramid airport, looking around him with a feeling of hope. All around was lush green grass, fields of healthy looking crops of all descriptions—brastley growing tall and shimmering with golden flecks, apple trees bowing over they were so laden with shining red fruit, plump cattle and white woollen clouds of sheep. An agricultural utopia.

  A doubt did nag, however, as he knew that all he viewed was manufactured. Fashioned from metal, mined in the grim industrial planets, where tireless and mindless droids slaved in the toxic atmosphere to gather the ore that other droids would turn into molten metal slabs. No two things could be so different, but it seemed to work. Steeler was suddenly thriving.

  “This way, Mr. Evergreen,” a burly man with a dark moustache thumbed a direction back into the awaiting and recently fuelled ship. “Ventura is on board now. He wants to meet you.”

  Birch gulped. What a contrast from the sunny pastoral of Steeler to the steamy, dark musty fragrance of the pirate ship. Never so much as now had he doubted the horrendous partnership he had felt a need to initiate.

  Seated on a large, black leather couch, the pirate leader offered his hand to Birch. Its size made Birch’s hand seem insignificant in comparison. Grey scowled at his new business partner through his strange white eyes.

  “Sit!” he barked. “We have much to talk about on the way to Gala 6. I hope your boots are warm!” He laughed gruffly.

  Chapter Nine

  Lost Sheep

  Kris walked and tracked Fern for over an hour. Every so often, he found a clue—a patch of trampled grass, a splashed puddle, a broken twig, but as yet had not managed to locate her. He knew that he had walked a fair distance as he could hear the gentle roar of the Cerulean ocean nearby. As Kris walked up a rough grassed, sandy bank, the swirling spirals of Fern’s full round curls whooshed into view, tossed madly around by the vicious ocean air. “Clever,” Kris sarcastically told her.

  She turned to him, her face red and puffy. “What?”

  “Following the tributary.”

  “Well I don’t want to get lost. Or maybe I do.”

  Kris hated to see Fern, who before had looked nothing but serene and content, in such dismal despair. He felt guilty having been the one who had delivered the bad news. Carefully, he sat next to her, leaving a small gap, on a coarse tussock of grass. “What are you smiling at?” Kris asked, disconcerted by the sudden change in her mood.

  “You.” Fern’s smile lit her face and the redness began to disappear. “You look more upset than I am. Aren’t you meant to be a bounty hunter. Tough and rough?”

  A sudden smile ripped Kris’s face in two and made him cough with laughter. “I’m still a person.”

  “I’m sorry.” Fern tapped his forearm playfully. “I’m teasing you.”

  “Well,” Kris looked philosophically out to sea. “I suppose you’ve earned the right. I have, after all, just given you some pretty bad news. And shown you a dead piglet.”

  “That you’ve cut into pieces.”

  Kris held up his hands. “Fair enough. Go on, tease me some more, I deserve it.”

  Both of them laughed and the tension of a sad day was relieved.

  “You know, right here by the ocean, nothing ever seems to matter,” Fern admitted. “I come here quite a lot. Not always when I’m sad. Just to remind myself of my place in the universe. We’re pretty insignificant when it comes down to it.”

  Kris nodded, not quite sure whether he totally agreed with her sentiments, but it certainly was beautiful there with the vast blue ocean undulating and crashing and spitting below them. Salt laden air splashed their faces on odd occasions so they both felt they really were on the edge of the world. Bright red seabirds spiralled down into the sea and rose up with fish in their beaks before gliding effortlessly onto their cliff ledge homes. Such freedom was enviable.

  All of a sudden, Kris shot up. “Stay there!” he ordered and got out his binoculars. Through them, he saw two Steelers, a male and a female, holding hands and running into the nearby woods.

  “What is it?” Fern sounded panicked.

  “It’s only two people off to the woods. Oh,” Kris put down his binoculars with a blush.

  “Are they copulating?”

  Kris was caught off-balance by her question. “Possibly.”

  “Let me see.”

  Fern took the binoculars while they were still slung around Kris’s neck, pulling them close, her hair tickling his face.

  “Take a look. It’s alright. She must be ready.”

  “Ready?”

  “Yes, in season some would call it. Or perhaps…”

  “What?”

  Fern put down the binoculars carefully and spread a sensuous hand on Kris’s chest. “Perhaps they are just having fun.”

  Inspired by a gust of sea breeze which smelled so fresh and wild, Kris hastily kissed Fern’s orange lips and was relieved that she returned his passion. She smelled like freshly picked lemon and tasted like sugar.

  “Would you like to go to the woods with me?” she asked sweetly.

  “The woods?”

  “It’s a special place for Steelers. When we get there, I will show you why.”

  Fern stood and held Kris’s hand. Once again, he felt the definite throb of heat passing between their palms and fingers. Just inside the woods, not particularly hidden, where the atmosphere was filled with pine sap, Fern chose a tree. They could just hear the moans of pleasure from the couple they had spied on as they pleasured one another. Kissing deeply, Kris slowly stroked Fern’s neck. He had wondered if he would be able to feel the mottles, but her skin was smooth as silk.

  Not long after, both stood completely naked, their clothes dropped to their ankles and kicked clumsily aside. Neither of them had seen another species naked and took a voyeuristic moment to examine one another carefully.

  “Your penis is bigger than a Steeler’s.”

  Kris smiled, always glad of such a compliment. “And it’s on the outside.”

  “All the time?” Fern seemed utterly surprised.

  “Yes, but not always hard. It’s soft normally, until I’m kissing someone as beautiful as you.”

  “And smaller?” Fern asked innocently.

  “Slightly.” Kris smiled, glad of some inter-planetary confusion.

&
nbsp; “Does my body please you?”

  Kris raised his eyebrows in an obvious answer, unable to speak. Fern was devastatingly gorgeous. Her willowy figure was a tender shade of young acorn yellow, mottled on the extremities with a bright orange shade. These mottles also made a circular pattern around the area where the human bellybutton lies. Her genital area was mottled heavily in the absence of hair but Kris did not see the expected butterfly wing lips. Her breasts were simply round and orange, without a nipple, but very full and heavy.

  Turning her back toward him, Fern had a beautifully arched back and tight, round, pert buttocks. As she arched her back a little more, Kris saw an apple shaped mound revealed, heavily mottled, with a small, dark, wet hollow, further back than a human female’s. The orange mottles had begun, very slowly, to glow.

  “Do you know how to please me?” she asked.

  Kris stammered, rocked by her beauty. “I’m not sure. I can take a guess and try.”

  “Rub your finger around the outside.” Fern looked over her shoulder and batted her orange eyelashes flirtatiously.

  “Here?” Kris rubbed his index fingertip around the outside of her vagina. A strange sensation, a vagina without lips, with a hollow surrounded by a strong, hard muscle. When he rubbed her, it was obvious this was her erogenous area, similar to the human female clitoris, but much bigger. She moaned softly and an orange fluid began to trickle out. Kris used it to lubricate her clitoral ring so he could stroke faster like the old trick of rubbing a finger around a wine glass rim to make it sing.

  “Have you done it before?” Fern gasped.

  “No. I’ve only had sex with humans before.”

  “Oh, your penis has grown even larger. Do you think it will fit?”

  “Oh yes,” Kris replied hopefully although it did look a little tight.

  With trembling hands, for it had been many years since he had slid himself inside a woman, he grasped Fern’s buttocks, one in each hand, and guided himself surely over. His engorged penis struggled at first but was soon soaked enough to slide in. Once halfway there, it was as though something had pulled him inside. Fern’s muscles gripped and massaged him wildly. There was no way he was escaping until he was fully spent.