(My entry for the Unofficial Tau Station Short Story Contest)
“Once a cycle we celebrate the Emberfest. Station lights are dimmed and groups of revelers walk from home to home, carrying burning little embers that they will share and then be joined as they continue on to others, bringing joy and hope and a little cheer. Thus do we celebrate our coming out of the darkness, our survival of the Catastrophe. More recently the tradition has also been reinforced by a group of freelancers calling themselves the Auld Lang Syne. They, so the story goes, steal supplies and items from the governments of the Consortium and Gaule to distribute among the needy. The group themselves is never seen and the only sign of their passage is a crate of goods marked with an image of a little mote of light in the darkness. It is further purported that, in recent years, the Consortium and Gaule governments actually lean into the tradition, purposefully leaving goods unattended to be ‘stolen’ by the Auld Lang Syne in a once a cycle show of good cheer.” From https://taustation.space/blog/wishing-you-a-festive-emberfest/
FOR AULD LANG SYNE: AN EMBERFEST STORY
By Diggles
II
“A ration pack says you can't make the shot, Kenny.”
Kennedy stuck out her tongue, her scrawny arm already stretched back for the throw. “Only one Mona? Come on, it's worth more than that!”
Mona, a short, scruffy girl and Kennedy's best friend, narrowed her eyes and set down her sewing on the low wall she was sitting on. “Two then,” she offered.
“I know for a fact you got ten off Francois in the Ruins last tenday for making him a new jacket. You give me three if I get it; I give you four if I don't.”
Mona looked impressed. “You're that sure you can do it? Fine then. Deal.”
Kennedy gripped the Volt-Kamp relay they'd found amongst the nanowire and rubble in the Ruins in the last segment or so and eyed her target. The wall around the Al-Farooqi hotel was high; at least as tall as three Belters standing on each other's shoulders she guessed, and it was topped with electroshock wire. Totally doable.
She took a deep breath, one, two, three steps forward and her arm sailed through the air, the relay sketching a perfect arc. She smiled as she watched it sail over the hotel wall. The ever-present artificial breeze hadn't made it wobble at all. She heard a clang and a shout. “Oops, looks like I scored a bonus with that one,” she giggled. “Pay up, Moany.”
Mona scowled, but reached around for her bag, made of more of the found fabric she used for her trade, and threw three ration packs over to the ground at her friend's feet.
Kennedy didn't care. Dropping to her knees, she gathered up the packages. “Told you I could do---” She noticed Mona's expression, which had suddenly shifted from annoyed to scared. “What is it?”
“Kenny, run!” muttered Mona, grabbing her things and jumping off the regocrete wall.
Heart thudding, Kennedy sprang up, only to feel a heavy hand land on her shoulder. “So you are the wretch responsible for my sore head, are you?” said a cultured voice from behind her. “What shall we do with you, eh?”
II
Kennedy was late. She was usually early for her shift at the Gadani Galactic Bank, but not today.
“Sorry Ser Jyothi,” she mumbled, scuttling between the imposing, smoked-glass doors of the bank.
Jyothi held up an imperious hand. “Hold,” he annunciated crisply. “Why are you late, Ser Kennedy?”
Kennedy racked her brain for an excuse. She'd have to make it a good one this time, even better than the one about being kidnapped. “My grandmother, Ser Jyothi,”she whined.
“Your grandmother?” Jyothi's tone was icy, the gleaming buttons on his waistcoat straining to contain both his formidable stomach and infamous temper. “And for what extremely important reason would your grandmother have made you late?”
“She was found wandering the Ruins again last night, Ser Jothi,” replied Kennedy, rubbing her arms and trying to look worried.
Jyothi clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Why won't that woman simply take a termination pellet?” He sighed. “Surely she'd be better being reborn as a clone?” He glared at Kennedy, his distaste for what he was about to say evident on his pudgy face. “Or is your grandmother a Promethean?”
Kennedy looked at her feet. She really should have cleaned her uniform boots before getting here. “No, Ser,” she said.
Jyothi scowled. “Well in any case, you are late, and you know how Emberfest is always a busy day for us. Get to your counter.” He waved dismissively, spotting the next late worker trying to sneak through the doors without being berated.
Kennedy fled to her booth. She was on bond to credit conversions today; a hideously boring job, but she smiled to herself secretly. That morning an anonymous citizen had given her a plastic scroll. She'd read it, memorised it and dropped it in a trash can but she still remembered what it said:
Should friends and allies be forgot/ And never brought to mind?/ We'll always help to spread good cheer/ For auld lang syne.
II
Shift over, Kennedy shuffled out of the bank, entering a station transformed. With the street lights dimmed, harsh shadows were softened; darkened corners shifting from menacing to mysterious. Workers flooding in from the Bazaar, the Docks and Breaking Yards beyond, heading for the Residential Zone; while visitors walked along the streets, arm in arm, oblivious to the ebb and flow of the residents' lives as they drifted into the brightly-lit Al-Farooqi Hotel complex. Occasional bored-looking security officers patrolled the busier intersections whilst the homeless dregs of the station, the Wilds Rats, made half-hearted, mumbling pleas for any rations a citizen could spare.
As she neared her own family's humble shelter, far away from the Breaking Company neighbourhoods, she kept her eyes open, looking for her contact. Her mind wandered back to the previous day.
II
Mona was long gone. Typical, thought Kennedy, annoyed that her throwing skills were better than her ability to run away from trouble.
The hand on her shoulder tightened, and Kennedy resigned herself to spending some time scrubbing out the cells in Gadani Central Prison. She was fairly sure she wouldn't be sentenced to time in the station Brig for throwing a VK relay, but then again, you never knew.
Resigned to her fate she turned, instantly recognising who had caught her, “Ser Fox?”
“What were you thinking, you silly girl? Throwing relays about the place, willy nilly?” Fox rubbed his balding head ruefully. “Landed right on my noggin.”
Kennedy presumed 'noggin' meant head. “I'm very sorry, Ser Fox,” she began. “It was a silly wager between friends. I never meant to hit anyone, let alone the Al-Farooqi's concierge.”
“Well, notwithstanding your intentions, that is what you accomplished,” said Fox, “but I have to say that was a remarkable trajectory for such a minor projectile.”
“A what now?” Kennedy had seen Fox in the bank from time to time. He seemed nice enough, she thought, so she was probably not going to be thrown to Security, but she remembered he used very strange language.
“An excellent throw, Ser Kennedy,” Fox clarified. “It is Kennedy, isn't it? I remember seeing you at the Gadani Galactic Bank upon my visitations of an economic nature. Not the most conscientious of staff in that establishment, but the most observant, if I recall.” He stepped back from her, looking at her appraisingly. “And smart too, I should wager. Tell me, Ser Kennedy,” he continued. “Would you like a little additional employment?” He gave her a meaningful stare, “'Discrete' work if you will? I could use a young person with your talents for a little job tomorrow night.”
Kennedy thought about it for a moment. She had never done any Discrete work. She'd been tempted, of course, but the risk was just too high. She had a job – not a great one, but enough to help her family buy essentials and keep a leaky roof over their heads in the Residential Area. Discrete work could have a great pay-off, she knew, but if you got caught and thrown in the Brig your reputation was trashed and she'd probably go from being a junior banking clerk to picking over ship carcasses in the Ruins.
Fox raised an impatient eyebrow. “I'm guessing it's for Emberfest?” she asked.
Fox's face relaxed and he smiled. “Indeed,” he said. He glanced quickly around them. “Have you ever heard of a little venture called Auld Lang Syne?”
II
“Kenny! Hey, Kennedy!” She stopped, looking around for the source of the shout.
“Over here, Kenny.” It was Mosos, a worker at the hotel. His usual exhausted demeanour was absent tonight; he stood taller, a mischievous smile on his unshaven face.
“Mosos, what are you doing over here? Shouldn't you be serving spoilt Gaul shipowners over at the Inn?”
“Not tonight, Kenny. It's Emberfest. ”
“Yes, and I'm going home to spend it with my family. My father's traded for real fruit. We haven't had those in weeks.”
“It's okay, Kenny, I'm working for Ser Fox tonight.”
Kennedy didn't let her face betray her excitement. She had to be careful. What if her friend was a plant and not her real contact? She played dumb, rolling her eyes. “You always work for Ser Fox, Mosos, he's your boss at the hotel!”
Mosos's lips twitched. “Yeah, but tonight he's a different kind of boss. I think he discussed a little business proposal with you yesterday. Auld Lang Syne.”
“Auld Lang Syne?” If this was a trap she would be sent to the Prison for sure.
Mosos smiled and rubbed his hands, more as a gesture of mischief than cold. “Come with me.”
II
Mosos took her down side streets; twisting and turning alleyways leading to rough, mismatched doors. The Emberfest revellers were starting to come out now, carrying small, glowing embers despite station rules. Her family was respectable: they always celebrated quietly at home, grateful to be together and safe; others liked to party, and still others—
Mosos grabbed her wrist and swung her into a doorway. He knocked in a strange pattern on an inset door.
“Don't ask questions,” he muttered. “Ser Fox will tell you what to do.”
The door swung open into an old storage room. Dusty boxes of random equipment shoved in corners; rickety shelves just visible in the gloom. A bare bulb swung from the metal-sheet ceiling, illuminating six others sitting in the room around an upended crate. They all looked up as Kennedy and Mosos entered.
“She's new,” said a gravelly voice from behind them. Kennedy jumped. Seven others. A stocky, scary-looking Mall, the one who'd let them in, was scowling.
Fox was seated in the centre of the group and gave her a wide smile, opening his arms in an expansive gesture. “Nonsense, Francois! Kennedy's an old friend, aren't you dear.” He gestured to the space next to him. “Come, both of you. Sit, sit!”
Kennedy felt herself relaxing slightly, as she took a seat next to the concierge. As she looked around the group she realised she knew all of them by sight: Mehreen Rana, the brusque forewoman of the Breaking Yards, her custom-spacesuit gleaming in the low light; Troy, the baggage attendant from the Shuttles; Torcuil and Tzofiya from the Bazaar and Freya, a woman she thought was a miner who had moved to the Yards from off-station. Mosos leaned against the wall, next to Francois.
“Friends,” said Fox, “I am so glad you could join me on this auspicious evening. Emberfest is upon us once again and it is time for a little mischief for our dear Major Stannis.” he nodded towards Troy. “I believe you have a delightful scheme cooked up to lead our security services on a merry dance this evening.”
Troy smiled thinly. “Stannis is having his usual Emberfest shindig for the station's great and good up at his official residence. My sister, who works in the Docks, told me he's been importing Gaule wine all tenspan, and fine fruits and even real meat from Cirque Centauri which are all due today.” He snorted. “Biomeat is too good for him and his people, let alone the rations the rest of us get.”
“And?” said Freya, “he does this every year.”
“And every year we try to liberate some of the spoils and every year we fail to garner anything save the most meagre crumbs,” said Fox, “But this cycle will be different,” he grinned, “Mehreen?”
Kennedy's gaze drifted to the Breaking Yards forewoman. “Everyone who works in the Yards knows it's a labyrinth,” said Rana. “There are more secret passages dating to Pre-Cat than anywhere else on the station. But there's one I only found a few tenspans ago, and it leads under the Anima cloning facility and around into the Docks from behind the main entrances. I've secured it, camouflaged it and it's ready to go.”
Fox continued “Stannis always wants his food as fresh as possible, but last Emberfest the couriers' cryo-preservation tanks lost containment. Everything was spoiled, so this cycle, they're following a rather novel strategy. It is merely two segments' travel time between the stations at present, and Stannis' suppliers only harvested everything a handful of segments ago. It's being prepared, packed and dispatched as we speak, if our calculations are correct.”
“So, with a distraction” continued Rana, “we can grab twenty or thirty percent of the crates and redistribute them among those most in need in the Ruins.”
Fox turned to Kennedy. “And that is where you come in,” he said. “You have an outstanding throwing arm, as I discovered to my cost only yesterday,” Fox rubbed his head ruefully, but without malice. “We need your aim. We need you to throw a smoke igniter over the Major's fence into the courtyard where the station Emberflame is lit. The explosion of smoke shall be harmless but terribly distracting.”
Kennedy's eyes widened. “Me? I can't do that!”
“'Course you can, Kenny,” said Mosos. “Torcuil and Tzofiya will be with you: they've done this sort of thing loads of times before.”
Kennedy looked at Torcuil, who was either an exceptionally tall Baseline or a very short Belter, and Tzofiya, a tiny, middle aged woman who appeared to be Harsene. She looked bored, Kennedy thought.
“And,” continued Fox, smiling and showing teeth, “while you keep Security busy, we'll be raiding the Docks.”
The others nodded to each other, “For Auld Lang Syne?” said Kennedy.
“Precisely,” said Fox.
FOR AULD LANG SYNE: AN EMBERFEST STORY (Part Two)
Posted from Yards of Gadani (Alpha Centauri) by Diggles
at 207.90/85:736 GCT (edited by Diggles at 207.90/85:913 GCT)
II
Kennedy's CORETECHS threw up a blueprint display of Major Stannis' complex as her team slid into position. It was labelled 'Top Secret', but the Yards of Gadani chapter of Auld Lang Syne would appear to have contacts everywhere on the station. Ahead of them was the Consortium Major's official residence, the largest home on the station by far. Regocrete blocks held real metal railings firm; floodlights, dimmed for the festival, were still enough to illuminate a plethora of security cameras that rhythmically swung to and fro from every elevated surface.
Beyond the gate, a security checkpoint was visible, shadowy figures of Consortium guards only identifiable by the dull glow of their weaponry power packs. Further on still, the main residence was a black silhouette against a dimly-lit station sky; laughter and chatter from the station elite could be heard in the grounds, each, as was Emberfest tradition, carrying a tiny artificial flame. Kennedy remembered stories of fireflies back in the pre-Cat universe and she imagined that this was the closest to that natural wonder she'd ever see.
One of her companions elbowed her none-to-gently in the ribs. Even hunkered down, Torcuil still towered over her. “The Emberflame's going to be lit soon,” he whispered, “time to move.”
Kennedy nodded. The Emberflame: culmination of every stations' Emberfest. On some stations everyone lit a small fire at home, pulling out glowing torches and parading around the station to greet friends and foes alike. But not on Gadani. The Consortium discouraged it on their stations, and Major Stannis was known to frown upon it, claiming it to be a fire hazard; and, as everyone station-born knew, an out-of-control fire could spell doom, especially here, where the ever-present stink of flammable fuel fumes from the Breaking Yards permeated the air.
The official Emberfest celebration began at the Major's residence, with small artificial flames, tiny battery-packed devices that would be swallowed by the great Emberflame in the centre of the Major's courtyard. Kennedy didn't understand the technology, but she knew Mona had heard that it was a special plasma that glowed brightly like fire but gave no heat. After the ceremony here, guards would divide the Emberflame into fire-proof lanterns, and take them to each area of the station for the residents to enjoy.
The guests were laughing and singing as they grew closer to the residence perimeter, followed by the Major, identifiable by the metallic details on his navy uniform which flashed in the flickers of illumination.
“They're drunk,” muttered Tzofiya.
“All that lovely Gaul wine,” whispered Torcuil. “Sickening.”
A warm hand shoved something into Kennedy's palm. “Time to go, girl,” Tzofiya said in a low tone, “we've got work to do.”
Kennedy gripped the cool, hard durasteel cannister she'd been given. “What do I do?”
Torcuil motioned for her to duck behind a pile of recycling near their hiding place. “See the gate?”
“Of course.”
“When Stannis starts the Emberflame, throw that in.”
The partygoers had now formed a semi-circle and, as Kennedy watched, Stannis strode into the centre of the arc. One of the security guards scuttled up to him, whispering something into his ear. Stannis frowned and seemed to be rattling off instructions to the guard, who ran off, gathering a significant number of those stationed around the yard as he left. Within moments there were far fewer Consortium soldiers than there had been before. Kennedy could see Stannis nod in satisfaction as many of his guards left in formation, but then he stepped forward. “Friends,” his voice was rich and resonant, “on this delightful evening we remember the hardships of our ancestors and their resilience in the face of the Catastrophe. Humanity continues, and what were embers in the darkness have flamed into greatness out here amongst the stars!”
There was a blinding flash, and for a moment Kennedy's vision whited out entirely. Stannis had thrown some kind of firestarter to the ground, sparks fountaining up like the fireworks she'd seen in storyvids she'd read as a child.
With appropriate 'oohs!' and 'aahs!' the guests stepped forward, throwing their tiny lights onto the ever-growing pile; the tiny flickers being swallowed up instantly by the harsh blaze on the ground.
“Time,” muttered Torcuil. Kennedy blinked. She knew she could make the throw but there was only one chance to get this right. She stood up, swung her arm back, focussed on the fire and flung the cannister with all her might. It sailed up and over the fence in a perfect curve.
Before it had hit the ground, all three were running. She'd already taken a handful of steps when she heard a deafening hiss and bang. Another three steps and the ever-expanding smoke cloud engulfed them.
They kept running.
Screams. Shouts. Coughing. Chaos. Alarms.
They ducked behind a corner. Tzofiya grinned. “Mission accomplished.”
For auld lang syne, my friends/ For auld lang syne/ We'll liberate a box, a crate/ For days of auld lang syne
II
Kennedy lost Torcuil and Tzofiya quickly as they melted away in the crowds of guests rushing away from the party. She arrived back in the Residences, breathless, stinking of smoke but elated. The distraction had worked! She opened up her CORETECHS, anxious for news of the heist on the Docks.
“What's happening,” she said to herself. She scrolled through the feeds but could see nothing.
“Looking for something?” came a familiar voice from behind her. Kennedy looked away from her display. It was Fox. And he was beaming.
“Did it work?” asked Kennedy. “Did you manage to get the crates?”
Fox chuckled. “Oh my dear, we did far better than that. Whilst your team caused a marvellous distraction and conflagration, and Troy and Mehreen were busy making mischief at the Dock, which I believe drew away a handsome proportion of Major Stannis' people, Freya and myself were coordinating with our friends from the Ruins and helping ourselves to all sorts of supplies from the Shipping Bay.”
Kennedy frowned. “But all the party food, all those crates from Cirque Centauri.”
“We were never after them, Kennedy. I'm sorry but I mislead you, just a tad.” He held out his thumb and forefinger, with a tiny gap between them.
“Just a tad?”
“We liberated advanced medical supplies from Hopkins' Legacy; the finest, and safest water rations from Estación de Amazon; warm clothing from Tau Station and half a million ration packs. Ser Francois' people from the Wilds are distributing the crates around the station as we speak, each marked with an ember, to remind citizens that we have survived much darkness until this moment, and that we can endure it a little longer.”
“Stannis and his rich friends still keep their fancy goods though,” said Kennedy, sadly.
“Expensive luxuries from Cirque don't sustain, clothe and heal our friends, Ser Kennedy,” said Fox, “but everyone will go to bed tonight and for many nights to come with plenty of food, safe water and thick, soft blankets. Isn't that, after all, the meaning of Emberfest?”
Fox stepped back and pulled something out of his jacket pocket. “Here,” he held out what looked like a plastic scroll. Kennedy took it, her jaw dropping as she saw the writing on it. “A bond certificate?”
“For ten thousand bonds,” said Fox. “Payment for services rendered. And I think you'll find every house in the Residence will have a special Emberfest delivery tonight, courtesy of Auld Lang Syne.”
“I don't know what to say,” said Kennedy.
Fox smiled. “Just keep our secret, dear Ser Kennedy,” he said, “and be ready for next cycle's Emberfest. Every festival is a challenge, a battle of wits with the powers that be. But we will always win, as long as we stay together.”
Kennedy made her way to her home. True to Fox's word, crates were appearing outside the doors of every home in her little neighbourhood, shadowy figures appearing, placing the boxes and disappearing like ghosts.
Whilst residents weren't allowed to take embers door to door on the Yards of Gadani, residents had lit up their windows and she could hear laughter and chattering from within.
A group of revellers from a neighbouring district passed her as she turned into her street, singing a traditional Emberfest song. Mona was amongst them, and she grabbed Kennedy's hand. encouraging her to join in the celebrations.
Fire and flame burn, warmth shall linger/ Humanity's downfall, beaten together/ Colonist and Harsene, Baseline and Belter/ Mall and Patrician, all need shelter/ We faced the darkness, passed the test/ We remember as one, this Emberfest.
Fin.