Close by the recruiting office was a tavern. Jupe decided to try a different approach. Inside was a comfortable atmosphere and delightful décor, with soft music playing. Large monitors on the walls showed scenes from Earth: a beach, a forest, idyllic lanes in the countryside, everything that Harax Pras was not.
“I have something important to say,” Jupe announced to the few patrons who were paying attention to him, since they had nothing better to do. “Listen up, would everyone please? I have just landed from Ancia.”
“You came here from Ancia?” someone asked. “Is your name Crazy McLunatic?”
“There is no Ancia, the way it was shown. Baxter Gammond lied. It’s just a black rock, that’s all. There are no rivers and meadows, or whatever they told us. Nothing like what they say,” he indicated to the monitors.
“Dirk,” someone joked to the bartender, “don’t give him any more drinks, he’s had enough.”
“No, listen to me, it’s true,” said Jupe.
“Is this a set-up?” asked another, annoyed. “Are you playing us for fools? It’s not too early to drink, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”
“Can’t you just listen? I need an army.”
That statement was met by general laughter.
“For the bugs,” Jupe continued. “Ancia is run by bugs.”
“We know,” someone else said. “HP is run by bugs too. Have you not noticed our flies? They’re our only wildlife. Of all the creatures to bring here, we bring flies.”
“They have people wrapped up, like cocoons.”
The bartender came out from his confines and pointed to the door for Jupe to leave, saying, “Take your show somewhere else, thanks. I don’t mind such antics, provided you’ve bought a selection from our range first, but I don’t think you have.”
Jupe left and walked down the street without knowing where he was going. He noticed an older man, sitting on a porch of a store, on the other side of the wide street, doing nothing but passing the time. He seemed out of place. Thinking of no reason not to, Jupe walked over to him and they exchanged pleasantries.
“Mind if I ask you something?” Jupe asked him.
“Not if it’s for money,” the man said, not showing if he was joking.
“What would you think if you heard Ancia was not actually the Ancia of the news reports, that it was actually a hive for aliens that look like bugs, and they’re storing the Ancian colonists, to eat later?”
“Is that your question?” the man asked as he shook his head. “Time you came in from that sun. You’re not on Earth anymore.”
“I have another question for you.”
“Did I do something bad to you some time? Or to your family?”
“If you had a story like that, how would you say it? Without being laughed at, I mean?”
“I’ve not seen you before, so I’ll assume you don’t know who I am. Do you know how long I’ve been here? I was one of the original terraformers, that’s right. I came here when there was nothing. This place has changed so much, but people don’t care. They don’t care for the work that’s been done here. They only think about what this place’s going to be. They only care about the future. I think I deserve some respect; at least a little bit. Why don’t they put up a statue of me, or something? They’re planning to put up a whole lot of statues or people who help with the new world, but no one’s asked me about it.”
Jupe realised the man just wanted to talk about himself, so he walked away.
“It’s young people like you who don’t care,” the man called. “Don’t care about what came before them. You think you’d have any sort of world here if it wasn’t for the likes of me? We have to work for what we believe in, young man. Pay more attention to your history.”
Jupe walked away with the old man’s words buzzing in his ears, he finally asked himself if he was just like that old man, saying things no one was interested in. Why should they be interested? They have their new world to build. If any of them had any interest in Ancia, they would have gone there. This was no Ancian dream, no ready-made paradise, but a world that would be a constant life-long struggle to make liveable.
* * * *
Jupe was amazed at how fast his passengers had worked in unloading the ship. Morgan had been so anxious to get to his cargo, that he paid for the landing bay’s ground crew to unload both Real and the Rees’. He cursed his earlier decision to store his furthest from the loading door, since that made him the last out. Real and Morgan paid Jupe no attention, as they were busy comparing their land deals. Jupe knew that was their main goal, to buy up as much territory as they could, and he would have to wait his turn. He went into the main passenger area of the ship and found Rolondo and Rebbi having a heated discussion.
“It creeps me, you know?” Rolondo pleaded to her.
“You’re not touching my shell,” Rebbi said firmly, holding the small piece of the alien shell that she had saved. They had had numerous fights over the shell, and each time it had broken. The piece she had left was only about the size of a dinner plate.
Rolondo saw Jupe returning, and he acted like they were not talking about the shell. “I’m going to get some land,” he said to Rebbi. “Maybe Jupe can talk some sense to you.”
He grabbed Jupe in a friendly manner and took him through to another room. “She’s got hold of that shell again,” he said to Jupe in confidence. “Can you get it off her? She won’t listen to me.”
“That’s exactly what I was planning on doing,” said Jupe. “But I need your help. No one’s believing a word I say. I’ve been all through Verne, and they all think I’m joking.”
“The story can wait, can’t it? The land won’t. This is the time to buy, and buy big. We can’t waste this opportunity. There’s so much land out there, you wouldn’t believe.”
Jupe then found himself alone with Rebbi, who was sitting and facing away from him, holding the shell close to her chest. The only proof he had. “Hey, Rebbi,” he said in a friendly and casual way, “I see you have that shell out again.”
“Aren’t you going to get some land too?” she asked, not trusting him.
“This isn’t my world. No surf here.”
“Got your army yet?”
“That’s the thing. I’m going to need that shell—”
“You touch it, you’re dead.”
Jupe took one look at the glare in her eyes to see that it wasn’t going to work. He left her alone and returned to find Real and Morgan.
“Land deals going all right?” he asked them, and they missed that he was being sarcastic.
“Better than we expected, actually,” said Real.
“I’m going to need that help we talked about,” said Jupe.
“Jupe, we need to talk,” Morgan said with reluctance.
“If we are to live here successfully,” said Real, “we need to have a good reputation.”
“Making a name for yourself, that’s the key,” said Morgan.
“We can’t …” Real started.
“Can’t go around babbling about alien bug-like creatures?” Jupe finished. “That Ancia is a hoax and there’s no colony there? But wait, there’s good news, we can kill them with common household bug repellent? Little too crazy? Can’t let anyone think we’re lunatics, been out in deep space for too long?”
“It’s nothing personal,” said Real.
“Show them Rebbi’s shell,” Morgan suggested.
“Morgan, you were going to be famous for your First Contact, remember?” said Jupe. “That’s all you talked about for weeks.”
“There are other matters at hand,” Morgan said quietly, unable to look Jupe in the eye.
“You’re leaving me little choice,” said Jupe. “If you won’t help me, I have to find someone who will. And not on this wasted planet, either.”
“What, you’re going back to Earth?” Real asked, seemingly wanting to explore all of his options.
“Where else do you think I’m going?” Jupe asked and then l
aughed. “Wasn’t my idea to come out here in the first place. But you know, I kind of like it. I guess the old man was right, in his own way. We have to work for what we believe in, and I believe in Ancia, what we can do there.”
“You’re saying you think your father was right to force you to go to space?” Real asked, thinking of how often Jupe had spoken of his ordeal.
Jupe looked at him and realised that the “old man” could have meant TC. And now here he was, wanting to be the hero, like his father. If he succeeded he would be greater than his father. For the first time in his life, he wondered if his father would have approved of his actions. Would TC be doing the same, had he had the chance, had he been in such a helpless position? Who was he, if not his father’s son? An image he thought he could never live up to, and for most of his life he had not tried. Yet he now realised, he was not really that far from him.
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