Faye Bingham; young, idealistic and utterly bored; is resting her two adolescent legs on the maintenance desk of Islay Base's Docking Control Room. A new recruit to the Gaian cause and she is lumped with a job that seems to take care of itself. Even her semi-comatosed supervisor Willy Thornbee seems to be unreservedly confident in the automated docking systems and treats the DCR as good place to get high in a bit of peace and quiet. But today there is a new ship appearing on the long range scanner and of course Miss Bingham is the first of them to pick up on it.
First indications are a Farmers Alliance Mamoru Bomber. Not a class of ship that often finds its way among the rank and file Gaian down at Islay and this is the first FA ship that Faye Bingham has come in contact with. She flicks the com switch and in a learnt generic tone hails the incoming vessel.
"Unidentified FA bomber, you are on our scanners'¦. please state your intentions and identify!"
~crackle crackle~
"Greetings Sister, It is I, Amaethon '¦.. submitting access codes through a secure channel."
~crackle~
Seconds later, a face that can only be described as poccessing eager confusion is thrust into the direction of supervisor Thornbee'¦'¦ and eager and confused are two characteristic that this middle aged man really doesn't appreciate in his current state.
Faye: "Don't recognise the name but the codes check out '¦ whatcha think?'
A very unimpressed look is flicked in Faye's direction and Willy fumbles around the controls for a minute and flicks the com switch.
Willy: "Ok pilot, you're cleared for docking bay 1"
The new trainee sits down in a huff with the impression that somehow procedures weren't properly adhered to. Baited into it and unable to get a sense of peace in a room full of '18-year-old-girl-angst' supervisor Willy, against his better judgement, turns to the grumpy face.
Willy: " What are all these looks about girl? The codes match '¦. and '¦. the reason we have access codes is so that the people with the bleedin' codes get to come onto our little rock here '¦. and yeah '¦.. I reckon I have heard that poncey name before '¦. spiritual looney '¦. fanatic type '¦.. if i recall correctly dear girl, he used to be a writer '¦ pop, science, fiction, '¦ spiritual fiction '¦. err you know '¦. pseudo spiritual science fiction for the masses '¦.. probably got too into it and felt he had to change his name and outfit and whatnot."
He types something into his neutral net.
Willy:"'¦ Aha'¦..Yeah thats the nutter '¦ used to be quite popular too '¦ but before your time girl '¦. here, I'll transfer this one to you. Used to be a best seller all over Bretonia. 'THE ROOTS OF THE SYSTEM' by Dr. A.D. Adlington '¦ you'll like it, definitely appeals to that wide eyed idealism of youth."
-----------------------------------
The Mamoru gently touches down on the landing pad of Islay docking bay 1 and as the hooded figure of Brother Amaethon descends from his vessel, a crowd of curious Gaians have already gathered to inspect the new comer. Amaethon drops his hood and then with a temperate touch, holds the shoulder of the nearest bystander and addresses the multitude.
"Greetings my brave bredren, it has been long since I have been warmed by the sight and sounds of our brothers and sisters. Even now, when I can see we are so few, I can feel our spirit reverberate with reaffirmed devotion for what needs to be done. I have been away for many painful cycles meditating on our losses, consolidating my inner demons and redeeming my own faith in Mother Gaia. It was not with an easy heart that I placed myself in exile after the Gallic Invasion and that shame followed me to Tottori where I remained under the guardianship of the Hogosha. But Mother Gaia eventually enlightens all minds and now I have returned. Do not close your arms from me my bredren. Embrace me as a brother once again."
"Gaia est mater ominia, Eius lacrrimis absorbent nostra peccata, Eius furor purgabit aethera." [Gaia is mother of all things, her tears shall flood away our sins, her fury shall purge the skies]
Upon the silence of finishing an unknown hand leads Brother Amaethon away into Islay. And with that the crowd disperses, unsure about what they have witnesses and go about their routines.
To many of those who witnessed Brother Amaethon's return to Islay the name A.D. Adlington would have at least have triggered the faint ringing of a bell in the caverns of their memories. Perhaps as a memory of a distracted glance at college roommate's neural-net reading list, or as a name that worked its way through the chatter of a Bretonian bar, or even perhaps the memory of happier more peaceful times as a devoted devourer of pulp psuedo-science fiction; when there was time to be distracted by such things. Before the war with Kusari Bretonians had more time for frivolity and in Bretonian between 798 and 801 there was no more popular peddler of pulp pseudo-science frivolity then Dr. Archibald Douglas Adlington.
In those 3 years A.D. Adlington (the official authorial name chosen for publication by his publishers 'Classic' in order to appeal to the masses) wrote his only 3 large scale works of fiction. His first book The Roots of the System was such a success for 'Classic' that they commissioned within 6 months Archibald's second novel With Her Face Left in The Sand. Needless to say the popularity of his first novel inevitably lead to another over night best seller and the name A.D. Adlington was read all over Bretonia. A reporter for the New London Times wrote in 799:
Born 772 A.S, former academic and son of Baron Adlington unveils his second controversial epic novel on the unsuspecting masses of Her Majesty's Bretonian public. Her Face Left in The Sand follows the lead from The Roots of the System in unashamedly misappropriating science fact in order to encourage a liberal left agenda. A confusing package dressed up with the pretty red bow of Adlington's doctoral qualifications from Cambridge in Micro Biology. Do not be misled into the thickets of this enchanted forest. This humble reviewer is stunned by the over night success of two works that are neither enlightening nor entertaining; and asks for those, who do not wish their few precious moments wasted, to turn away from the growing tide of popular idiocy and leave this work of fiction in the imagination of a failed academic.
Of course if you ask Maxwell Roning, the former chief publisher of 'Classic', then he would tell you without any apology that dressing up the fiction of Adlington as science fact was never further from his mind. Stuffy academic works never sell well, and Mr Roning was all about the bottom line. Adlington was Roning's cash cow, picked out of obscurity and academic poverty by the almighty hand of this chief publisher and they had both become very wealthy in a short space of time. It was therefore a little disturbing to Maxwell Roning when Archi unabashedly revealed he would take some time away from writing his third novel to pursue other interests.
It is hard to find records of what those other interests were that Archi went to persue but it is a matter of fact that it was two years after the success of With Her Face left in The Sand that A.D. Adlington finished his third novel Breathe. Popularity is a fickle thing and this third novel did not prove to be a quarter of the financial success for 'Classic' that they had hoped for.
The last time 'Classic' heard from Adlington was 802.
The hand that led Amaethon Brother Amaethon through the labyrinth of Islay belonged to the skinny eight year old frame of a round faced red haired girl. Beth Livermore had always called Islay home. Her parents, Dom and Elizabeth, had moved there ten years before following increased interest from groups such as the BPA in their political motivations and they had no inclination to resettle following the Gallic Invasion. For that skinny child of Islay the raucous chatter of Gaians became her school, her education, her language; the corridors became her playground; and the ways of the Tuatha de Danu her core belief: 'Gaia is mother of all things, we are all her children '¦..'
The smallest of fingers guiding a middle aged man with all the signs on his brow of premature ageing until that bald head begins to find the levels more familiar.
Beth:'We are almost there brother.'
And with that, Brother Amaethon begins to relive the slightest of sensations. The roots of history intertwine and form the stems for memories to rebloom. And with each passing step a great forest of familiar feelings and rediscovered thoughts spring from the depths of his consciousness. And he remembers what Veleta '¦.,Mother Veleta, had once said to him whilst bound on a prison liner:
'Even memories need to be nurtured so that thought is never corrupted. I believe this is why Gaia has drawn us together Brother Amaethon'
That was the first time that Archi had heard that name but it was certain not the last time that his association with it would cause him confusion and unease.
Beth:'We are here brother. Please, remove your clock and boots.'
Amaethon does as the girl requests and steps through the doorway into small but well lived in set of quarters. Incense burns in all four corners and the signs of the Tuatha de Danu visibly hang in symmetrical geometry from the ceiling. These uncommon artefacts are rarely seen in Sirius but are none the less the customary spiritual tools of these few followers of the transdeity Gaia. Not much is know about the Tuatha de Danu as devoute believers of its doctrine are really found and are often dismissed as cultist or looney druids. And on occasion if some new gaian recruit expresses some thought that there exists a god like energy binding all things and all realities backed up with some scientific explanation, there is often followed a chorus of mocking and laughter as jokes resound about 'the boy joining the crack pot cult of Dananananananananana U U U U!!'
Dr Elizabeth Livermore bears all the marks, both visible and 'those which only Gaia can bear witness to', lifts her head from her studies, smiles at the man at her door and greets her guest.
Elizabeth: 'It has been too long brother. Dom will be back soon. We all have much to discuss I'm sure but for now you must rest for you must be exhausted after your journey. Please, our home is your home.'
For ten days Amaethon rebuilds his friendships in the gracious hospitality of the Livermores. They pass the time talking of the Tuatha de Danu, the changes in Bretonia, the stories of the efforts of the Underloch and Amaethons time with the Hogosha. On the eleventh day Dom Livermore returns to his home with news that Amaethon had been contacted by Annora Ash of the Underloch.
'Once a Gaian always a Gaian, Brother Amaethon. I heard about your odd display in the hanger '¦ perhaps you could explain what you want to contribute to the Underloch and the Gaians, now that you have returned.'
Amaethon nods, reaches for his clock and boots and take the hand of the child of Islay.
Amaethon: 'Please, sister, lead me to Green Hell.'
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