Under Foreign Skies (MG) 1

”All passengers for QANTAS flight QF270 to Brisbane, please proceed to gate 11, your plane is ready for boarding.” A tinny voice echoes throughout the terminal. I stare at the baggage carousel, watching the luggage trundle slowly about its squeaking length. Aha. Finally. I scoop up the battered navy blue duffel which holds what remains of my worldly possessions and walk towards the automatic doors. As they open, a blast of hot, dry air makes me squint at the brightness beyond. A number of workers clad in an assortment of high-vis clothing are standing impatiently at a nearby taxi rank.

 

My PC buzzes on my wrist. Fishing my earpiece out of a pocket, I pop it in, tapping it to answer.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Oi, where are ya? I’m not doing another lap!” a voice demands.

 

“I’m out front.” I state simply.

 

“No shit, what number you standing under?”

 

I look up. “Uh. 23.”

 

“Right, blue patrol, be there in 2.” A beep as the call is terminated. Sure enough, a blue four wheel drive stained with dust pulls up in the bay in front of me. From the driver’s seat steps the grinning form of my cousin Kyle. Stepping around the vehicle, he grabs the duffel from me, slinging it into the back seat before catching me in a rough hug.

 

“Glad to see you made it John.” Kyle says, releasing me. “Good flight?”

 

“LONG flight.”

 

Kyle nods, walking back over to the driver’s seat. “Yeh, crossing the pond’s a bit of a cunt. Hop in then.”

 

I hop into the passenger’s seat as Kyle navigates the mazelike exit with practiced ease. Before long, I’m passing a dated “Welcome to Perth” sign, stained red-brown from bore water.

 

“You’re lucky, you should have seen the nightmare it used to be getting out here before they put the new roads in.” Kyle says, pushing a button on the radio.

 

“…continuing reports from Jerusalem where Ilian forces have seized control of Al Aqsa…”

 

Kyle snorts. “Fuck, that’ll go down well.” He mutters, pushing another button.

 

“…where The Archbishop of Canterbury has just ratified the agreement. The Anglican church is now a part of the ever-strengthening Order of Ilias…”

 

Kyle stabs another button with a harsh oath. I look at him in surprise. “I didn’t think you were religious, Kyle.”

 

“I’m not, but now I owe Jeff fuckin fifty bucks. Fucking cuck bishop.” Kyle responds. He sighs, changing the channel again. Middle-of-the-road pop-rock begins its inoffensive assault on my ears. Kyle glances in the rear view mirror.

 

“Didn’t bring much with you.” He remarks.

 

“The evacuation was a little sudden, I’m lucky I was able to get out as quickly as I could.”

 

“Of all the things that would happen to Atlanta, I didn’t think that a pitched battle between monsters and darkies would be its downfall.” Kyle laughs briefly, pausing when my silence is noted. “Aunt Betty and Eric are OK?” He asks sincerely. I nod.

 

“They’re staying with grandma in Kentucky. From what I hear they’ve managed to keep things pretty normal there.”

 

“Ah well, just glad you managed to get ahold of me when you did.” Kyle responds, flashing me a reassuring grin. “We’re almost there.”

 

Kyle pulls up in a quiet street, clearly in what passed for the upper end of town. Kyle pulls out a CV handset from beside his seat. “Jeff, you there? Open the gate.”

 

“What’s the password?”

 

“Fucked yer mum”

 

“Fuck you cunt.”

 

“Stop playing commando and open the fucking gate.” Kyle grates in exasperation.

 

The heavy metal gate leading into the stately house opened with a drone of electric motors.

 

“You still have power?” I ask incredulously.

 

“Benefits of a lower population mate, less chance they’ll take someone critical. Most of us are still going to work of a Monday, but the boss is less likely to crack shits if you’re late. Plus, we’re still running off 90% solar, so we’ll be OK in a fix.”

 

“Net?”

 

“Bloody’ Kangaroo-net even when it’s working.” Kyle laughs

 

I join in with his infectious laughter as the gate closes behind us. Kyle opens the car door, dropping to his belly and looking underneath the vehicle.

 

I frown, puzzled at the odd behaviour. “What are you doing?”

 

“Checkin’ for hangers on. It’s not likely but a snake or two has been known to hide underneath bigger vehicles from time to time.” Kyle mutters, grunting as he regains his feet. Grabbing my duffel, I follow him inside.

 

“…were taken by helicopter to Royal Perth Hospital, after the Yowies assaulted the assembled students.” I hear from a nearby radio, followed by the harsh laughs of two male voices.

 

“What’d I miss?” Kyle asks, heading into the lounge room.

 

“Apparently the Social Sciences department at UWA tried their ‘Stronk Empowered Womyn’ thing on a band of Yowies who came down from out bush. The Yowies took it as a challenge and beat the fuck out of ‘em” A black-haired man replied with a grin.

 

“Couldn’t have happened to a nicer bunch.” Kyle drawled.

 

“Rainbow hair everywhere, I’d put a tenner on it.” A blond, tanned man laughed. Seeing Kyle, he held out his hand. “Speaking of money, I heard about the Anglicans. Pay up cunt.”

 

Kyle grumbled, fishing in his pocket and pulling out a yellow bank note. The blond pocketed it swiftly.

 

“This is my cousin John, by the way. John, this is Mick and Jeff.” Kyle offered by way of introduction. The two men gave nods and murmurs of greeting. “Beer?” Jeff asked, looking at me askance.

 

“I’m only seventeen” I mumbled regretfully

 

Jeff shrugged, “Yer only a year off drinking age here mate. I won’t tell yer mum.”

 

“You corrupting my cousin Jeff?” Kyle chuckled.

 

Jeff barked with laughter. “If he’s anything like you he’s already had to hide at least one messy night from the folks.”

 

“Guilty.” I grin.

 

“He might be a seppo, but he knows the right answers.” Jeff drawled.

 

“C’mon John, let’s get you squared away.” Kyle offered, grabbing the duffel from my hand and heading towards the stairs.

 

“All three of you living here?” I ask as we ascend the stairs. Kyle grunts in mock irritation.

 

“Bloody may as well be for how often they’re here.” Kyle rejoins, casting a glance over his shoulder. “But nah, mostly it’s just the security of being with mates. Easiest way to disappear’s to live alone, after all.” Kyle opens a door on the first floor landing. “All yours, it’s a bit bare but we’ll grab some odds and sods this week.”

 

I look inside. A plain, double bed and an empty wardrobe greets my eyes, plus an ikea desk and simple chair. Kyle dumps the duffel on the bed.

 

I sigh wearily. “I’ll put it away later.”

 

“Fair enough, beer’s getting warm anyway.” Kyle says with a grin. I follow him back downstairs.

 

“Where is Uncle Peter anyway?” I ask.

 

“He’s living out on base with mum, they’ve got him doing something important.” Kyle answers with a shrug. “He’ll call from time to time. Mostly to check I haven’t sold the joint from under him.”

 

I chuckle as we both head out into the kitchen. Jeff passes me a perspiring brown bottle, which I take gratefully.

 

“Honestly I don’t see why you’re so willing to take them at face value. Look at everything they’ve taken over in the last few months alone!” Mick argues, ignoring my presence.

 

“But WHAT are they taking? Power stations, Water Treatment, Schools, Hospitals. They’re about the only ones who are fucking bothering to keep society running!” Jeff replies.

 

“That’s Taxpayer infrastructure, cunt. Never heard of the separation of Church and State?”

 

“I don’t remember the last time I heard someone yelling ‘Ilias Ackbar’ out a fucking megaphone.”

 

“I’m still not ok with it. They’ve got an agenda, I’m telling you.”

 

“Course they’ve got a fucking agenda. Everyone with a few million spare’s got an agenda these days. But between the abos having fucking seizures over the dreamtime coming to life and the muppets in Canberra living with their heads up their arses the Order’s about the only mob who are doing any good with theirs!”

 

“Are we having this argument again?” Kyle groaned.

 

“She’s not a God.” Mick insists stubbornly.

 

Jeff shrugs. “If She’s not a God, then fucking nothing is, Mick.”

 

Mick turns to me. “What’s your take on it John?”

 

I frown slightly. “I think I came into this one in the middle. What’s the question?”

 

“Ilias and The Order, what do you make of them?”

 

Whew. Tough one. On one hand with the global economy largely in the toilet, The Order allowed a lot of re-settlement for isolated humans who otherwise would have had to consign their lives to what they could carry. On the other, they were damn sure to remind those humans to whom they owed their continued ‘free’ existence.

 

I give something of a noncommittal shrug. “I’m not sure. The whole world’s a little crazy at the moment. Back in the States you’ve got the Council for Interspecies Exchange insisting that the Mamono just want to integrate with human society, then you’ve got the various fundamentalists, well, what’s left of them, foaming about the end of the world, then you’ve got The Order telling us that they’re here to kill us all.” I pause, as a lump builds in my throat. “Then there’s the kidnappings…”

 

“Hah. ‘kidnappings’, show me one supposed ‘slave’ who isn’t happy as a pig in shit about his new life.” Mick mocks. I see red, gritting my teeth. Images flash in my head of busting his mocking face in with the beer bottle in my hand. Kyle sees my expression, and grabs Mick by the arm, dragging him into the other room. I hear the words “Father” “Taken” and “Fuckin glass you cunt” being muttered from the hallway before the two come back in, Mick with a sheepish expression on his face.

 

“Sorry John, I didn’t know about your Dad mate. That was fuckin’ low of me.” He offers with a woebegone look.

 

I sigh, forcing myself back to calmness. “It’s… OK. You didn’t know. Him and mom had been separated for a while, but it was something of a shock to walk into his house to find a fucking spider had coated half the place in webbing.”

 

“Shit hey?” Jeff exclaims, “Was he…”

 

“It’s fucked up, but Mick’s not entirely wrong. I’ve never seen him happier. There were… Things… in the web though, and the spider kept trying to get me to stay the night… I didn’t want to end up one of them.”

 

Kyle gives a low whistle. “Fucking heavy.”

 

I nod, taking a long drink from my beer.

 

“We still on for the pub?” Mick offers hesitantly.

 

Kyle nods “Ordinarily I’d say no, but fucked if I’m going to stay locked up in the damn house for another week.” He looks at me. “Feel free to crash out if you want Jonno, You’re probably jet-lagged as shit, we won’t be home late and we’ll take the gate remote with us.”

I nod my head. “I’ve been stuck in a metal tube for twenty hours. I think I might turn in.”

 

Kyle nods. “Number’s next to the phone. Call me if you need anything. Dad’s below it on speed-dial if it’s an emergency.”

 

I cover my mouth to stifle a yawn. “Thanks Kyle.”

 

---

 

 “Oi Jeff, you banging Shaz or what?” Mick’s voice brings me up from the depths of sleep.

 

“Not for lack of trying.” I hear Jeff admit “What’s it to you?”

 

“Just don’t want to see you do something stupid for want of some pussy, mate.” Mick said simply.

 

“The fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

 

“You saw them pull the glowsticks, they’re not fucking about any more.”

 

I stretch. My brain is simultaneously telling me I’ve slept too late and to wake up, and that I haven’t slept enough and to go back to sleep.

 

Goddamn jetlag. I lie in the dim darkness, listening to my cousin’s friends.

 

“Hey, a Divine Blessing isn’t something to be sneezed at!” Jeff objects.

 

“Heh. Divine Blessing. I don’t know what’s up with those glowsticks but if you think that’s the work of God I’ve got a Nigerian princess who wants to give you her fortune.” Mick rejoins mockingly.

 

“Hey guys, shut up. Johnno’s sleeping.” Kyle’s voice joins the other two.

 

“I’m up Kyle, Jetlag’s a bitch.” I call down.

 

“Sorry mate, hope we didn’t wake you!”

 

I swing my legs out of bed. “Nah, It’s all good.” I reply, making my way downstairs.

 

“Seriously though Jeff, you’re not actually thinking of joining up are you?” Mick’s voice is muffled, clinking sound of beer bottles.

 

“Pay’s good... better than the bullshit I’m getting working for DPI.”

 

“Yeah, It’ll just cost you your soul in the meantime.”

 

Jeff’s slurring laughter. “Now who’s being a religious nut?” I turn the corner into the kitchen. Mick and Jeff are leaning against the bench, Kyle has paired a keyboard and screen to his PC and is tapping away at something.

 

“Fuck you cunt.” Mick grumbles, passing Jeff and Kyle a beer. Looking up, he sees me. “G’day Johnno, want one?”

 

I shake my head. “Feeling a little scattered, think I’ll pass.”

 

Mick shrugs. “Fair enough mate.”

 

A buzz at my wrist. “Huh... Network transfer’s gone through.” I mutter, glancing briefly at the e-mail. My PC buzzes again, a call, unknown number.

 

I pat my pockets for my earpiece, shit, must have left it on the dresser. Screw it. I hit the speaker option.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Hello, is this John Walden?”

 

“Yeah, who am I speaking to?”

 

“This is Connie from the State Office, I hope I haven’t caught you at a bad time.”

 

I glance at the time display on Kyle’s screen. 1230AM. Heh.

 

“It is the middle of the night, but I’m up.”

 

“Oh I’m so sorry about that. I just wanted to let you know that St Patricks has accepted the transfer, and will have your enrolment package ready for collection tomorrow.”

 

Oh joy. School.

 

“Er, thanks.”

 

“You’re most welcome. It was very lucky, donchaknow, you moving to Australia. St Patricks is one of the few Human-only schools left.”

 

“Uh huh.” I don’t give a shit lady, what are you getting at?

 

“Is your Guardian present at the moment?”

 

“Speaking.” Kyle called absently.

 

“Oh, er... Mr Cavendish?”

 

“That’s right.”

 

“Please do be aware that it is a condition of John’s visa that he attends. Deportation will not be funded by the State Department donchaknow.”

 

“Yeh, he’ll get there.” Kyle drawled nonchalantly.

 

“Okee, thank you so much for your time. Ilias be with you.”

 

A blip as the call terminates.

 

“Shouldn’t Uncle Peter be fielding that?” I venture.

 

“Like they give a fuck.” Kyle snickers. “Dumb seppos didn’t even do their homework.”

 

“How do you mean?”

 

“St Patricks WAS a Human-only school... Ten years ago.” Mick chortles. “They integrated when I was in year 10. Made studying for years 11 and 12 bloody interesting, I’ll tell ya.”

 

Of course. Things just had to get complicated.

 

---

 

“Come on mate, get up.” Kyle’s voice from the doorway

 

I groan into my pillow “What time is it?”

 

“Seven, let you sleep in as long as I could. C’mon, shit shower shave, I’ll drop ya off on my way to work.”

 

I sit up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. Kyle grins at me. “Cairn princess, up and at ‘em.”

 

I stumble into the shower, letting the water finish the process of waking me up before getting dressed and heading downstairs.

 

“Coffee’s on the pot, there’s still some scrambled eggs and bacon on the tray.” Kyle’s voice echoes from somewhere in the house.

 

“That’s bacon?” I murmur, looking at the strange cut of meat. Piling a plate and filling my mug with coffee, I sit down and eat... It tasted bacon-ish, at least.

 

---

 

“Reckon you can find your way home after school?” Kyle asks over the seat at me.

 

“Yeah, it’s not that far.” I reply, hoisting my bag onto my shoulder.

 

“Good stuff. You’ve got the key, I’ll see you when I get home.”

 

I smile. “Thanks Cuz.”

 

“Have a good day poopsiekins!” That last in a comical falsetto.

 

“Rack off man.” I snicker.

 

Kyle grins again, pulling his grumbling patrol out of the drop-off bay.

 

I walk up the pathway, other students, both Human and Mamono beginning to dribble in on either side of me. I’ll admit to being a little nervous, but it all seems so... normal. Shaking my head slightly, I head to the building marked ‘Administration’.

 

“Hi there!” A sunny Holstaurus greets me as I enter.

 

“Er, Hi. I’m John Walden? I’m starting today.”

 

“Oh! Yep! Got your details right here.” The Holstaurus smiles welcomingly. “Now let’s see.” She tucks an errant lock of hair behind a horn, and leans over a terminal, tapping away, her face intent on the screen. My eyes are drawn instinctively down the smooth line of her neck, her plain button-up shirt valiantly containing her absolutely ENORMOUS breasts, shadow of a long bovine tail swishing behind her.

 

I swallow in a mouth suddenly dry, hope she didn’t notice me looking.

 

“Here you go!” She declares, holding out a sheaf of paper “There’s a map, and your timetable, and a few bits and peices. Feel free to head on over to Student Services if you need anything else, it’s just down the hall there.” She points at a sign marked ‘Student Services’

 

Jiggle jiggle... FOCUS dammit John.

 

“OK... Thanks.” I murmur, locking my eyes to the paperwork in my hands and flipping through it intently.

 

“Have a great day. Home room should be starting in about twenty minutes.”

 

I nod, “Yeah... Thanks again.”

 

I make my way to the homeroom, opening the door and making a show of putting the paperwork in my bag to cover my awkwardness.

 

“Fresh meat.” A black and gold Lamia murmurs, spotting me and grinning toothily.

 

“Oh shut up Vicki, you slut.” An oddly shaped Mamono rejoins, kicking long, furred feet up onto the desk in front of her and leaning back on a muscular tail. Was that a Kangaroo?

 

A black-haired human youth waves me over.

 

“Don’t worry about Vicki, she likes to give the new guys a hard time. She’s harmless though.”

 

I nod. “Good to know. Thanks.”

 

His eyes widen with surprise, “What’s the accent? Canadian?”

 

I give a snort of laughter.

 

“American then. Never can tell the two apart.”

 

“That’s like me calling you a Kiwi, son.” I retort with a grin.

 

“Fair play mate, no need to go that nasty!” The youth exclaims in mock outrage. “Name’s Chris.”

 

“John.”

 

“Howz’goin. What you got first up?”

 

“History with...” I frown. “There’s just a placeholder here.”

 

“You’re in my class then.” Chris nodded “Mr O’Brian retired... well... took an extended leave of absence... Actually he’s getting fucked eight ways from sund...”

 

“We can do without the obscenity, Mr. Clark!” An authoritative male voice rang out as a slender, almost cadaverous old man stepped into the room.

 

“Sorry Mr. Reiner.” Chris mumbled.

 

“Ah. My new student. Welcome... John is it?”

 

“Er, yessir.”

 

Mr Reiner nodded. “Right then. To the announcements...”

 

I’ll give it to the old boy, he knew how to control a room. Human or Mamono, he could stare down a misbehaving student with a slight cough and a boring stare from his deepset ice-blue eyes.

 

“Sorry I’m late.” Came a nonchalant voice, musical and resonant. Feathers stirred the air and I saw a vision of massive wings, brown and gold as the new arrival sat almost imperiously between Vicki and the Kangaroo.

 

“Is that an angel?” I hissed to Chris. Titters throughout the room. Shit, that wasn’t supposed to carry.

 

“No. Katherine is not an angel, by species nor behaviour.” Mr. Reiner drawled. “And I trust you have a late note, miss?”

 

“Er... It... fell out of my pocket?” the winged girl offered lamely. Now that I had the chance to look at her, I noticed my mistake. Her head was feathered, long soft feathers which matched the brown and gold of her wings, which melded into her upper arms, rather than emerging from her back as I originally thought. Her tawny gold eyes flicked momentarily to meet mine and the ghost of a smirk appeared on her full lips.

 

I suddenly found the surface of my desk very, very interesting.

 

“Honestly Katherine, you are the only wedge-tail I have ever met to be singularly tardy every week. Must I send another note home to your mother?”

 

“Why bother Sir, she’d just loose that as well!” A Human girl snickered. Katherine glared murderously at the girl who met her gaze with a curled lip and a disdainful stare.

 

“Ladies, if we can dispense with the cattiness...”

 

“I didn’t do anything nyaa~” A Neko cried.

 

“Not you, Miss Shisume.” Mr Reiner groaned.

 

---

 

“So who do you think we’ve got now?” A student mumbled to Chris as I took a seat next to him.

 

“Dunno, hopefully she’s hot.”

 

“Bet still stands?”

 

“You know it.”

 

I frowned. “Bet?”

 

“Who’s the new bloke?” The auburn-haired youth asked, looking at me quizzically.

 

“John, Kevin. Kevin, John.” Chris offered perfunctorily.

 

I nodded, “Hey.”

 

Kevin ducked his head in greeting “G’day.”

 

“And the bet is a lobster if it’s a student teacher and we can make her cry.”

 

“A lobster?”

 

Chris looked at me for a moment. “Oh yeah, you wouldn’t know. 20 bucks. The red note, s’why it’s a lobster.”

 

“Ah. Gotcha.” I frowned. “Bit mean though...”

 

“You think that’s bad, you should see what the girls do if it’s a good looking bloke.” Kevin snickered.

 

“Why would the Mamono...” I begin

 

Kevin shook his head. “Not just the Mons, mate. The Human girls are just as bloody bad.”

 

What the hell kind of country was this?

 

“Good morning students.” A woman’s voice from the doorway. I noticed a few rolled eyes from the Mamono in the class. From the shadow of the doorway floated a... something.

 

Her skin was pale, mottled in places with charcoal, which blended into the nest of tentacles which sprouted from her back, each one ending in an unblinking yellow eye. Her hair was black, cut in bangs above a large, cyclopean eye which scanned the classroom intensely.

 

“I am Miss McDavidson. Now, I’ll try and remember all of your names as quickly as I can, but I beg your indulgence on that front. I understand Mr. O’Brian had you studying the late twentieth century?”

 

A general murmur of affirmation.

 

“Good. Now, the precursor to the current ‘Net framework was set down in which...”

 

A covert movement to my left, Kevin had torn a shred from a notebook and had stuffed it in his mouth. Producing a straw, he held it to his lips...

 

...Lightning fast, an appendant eye flipped around, a thin beam of red energy launching itself from its core, melting the end of the straw. Kevin spat the chewed paper all over himself, yelling in shock.

 

“Out.” Miss McDavidson ordered simply, pointing a pale, delicate hand at the door.

 

Kevin mumbled viperously, grabbing his backpack and heading into the hallway.

 

“That’s assault Miss!” A female human voice.

 

“Oh?” the teacher inquired in a deceptively even tone “How so?”

 

“Well you...”

 

“I melted a piece of plastic.” She interrupted. “He was about to launch a wad of chewed paper and spit at me.” She smiled sweetly. “Which sounds more like assault to you?”

 

“B-but...” The human girl stammered petulantly.

 

“You can join him, if you feel so inclined. I won’t waste the time of the students here who wish to learn on snots who can’t be bothered.”

 

“Y-you can’t say that! My dad is the Member for...”

 

“Oh here we go...” Chris groaned.

 

“And at what exact point, dear, am I supposed to care?” Miss McDavidson smiled sweetly, her teeth white and viciously pointed. “Please do be sure to point it out, I would HATE to miss it.”

 

“Told.” A student drawled. A general giggle rippled through the room. The girl lowered her head, muttering sulphurously under her breath.

 

“Now, if we may continue.”

 

---

 

“Mr. Walden?” Miss McDavidson’s voice called as I followed Chris out.

 

“Uh... Yes Ma’am?” I answered, turning.

 

“We’ll be on the steps near the oval... assuming she doesn’t eat you...” Chris chuckled, waving slightly.

 

“Funny.” I grumbled, heading back into the classroom.

 

“You brought up an interesting point about Bob Kahn. I’m going to go out on a limb and suggest you’ve got an interest in that field?”

 

I shrug, “I play around some, mostly just finding backdoors for... well...”

 

“Filthy Animus?” Miss McDavidson grinned toothily

 

“W-What gave you that idea?” I blustered.

 

“You have a Doujin in your backpack.”

 

“H-how did you...”

 

“Don’t try and get surreptitious with a Gazer, Mr. Walden.” Miss McDavidson chuckled. “And please don’t try and sneak it behind your textbook again, even if you do ‘know all this kiddy shit already’. Or I’ll have you read it to the class... In English, not Zippangan.”

 

“You can read Zippangan?” I exclaimed in surprise.

 

“My parents met in Zippangu, I was practically raised there.”

 

“Wow... What’s it like?”

 

“A conversation we can have when you AREN’T making me miss my lunch, Mr Walden.” Miss McDavidson replied with that toothy grin.

 

I grinned sheepishly, “Yes Ma’am.”