Livid Skies by SI CLARKE

Author:SI CLARKE [CLARKE, SI]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781916287839
Publisher: White Hart Fiction

The Ankh dome, Devon Island colony, Mars

Four days later, we gathered in the chapel. Rizwana led us through a beautiful service. As Brian was Christian, it would normally have been Georgie’s task. Normally? What a strange thing to think about a murder. When is murder ever normal?

Georgie was in no fit state to lead anything. I thought about a different funeral, when Georgie had been Gurdeep’s rock. Now their roles were reversed, as Georgie sat with blank, dead eyes through the ceremony.

Several of us spoke, telling stories of Brian’s life. Devon told an anecdote from not long after we had landed. We’d taken turns preparing meals for one another as a group. ‘It was Brian’s first turn to cook. As he was dishing up, he said, “Y’all are mighty brave trying my grub.”’ Devon’s British accent shone through, but the cadence and words were pure Brian.

In my mind I went back to that day, sitting around the table in Saca. He regaled us with tales of his childhood cooking adventures. Devon relayed a culinary delight he’d described that night. ‘He said he used to make package macaroni and cheese for his younger siblings. He’d boil the pasta until most of the water was absorbed then mix the cheese powder right into the mushy, water-logged pasta.’

We’d all been crying with laughter by the time he set bowls of what turned out to be a tasty three-bean chilli in front of us.

After the service, we all walked together to Antalya dome. As the procession passed an external airlock, we saw the doors had been emblazoned with graffiti: ‘Insert Killer Katya here’.

Over the past four days, the letters KKMD had begun appearing on surfaces throughout the colony. Killer Katya must die. For every one we cleaned off or plastered over, two more appeared. I saw the letters carved into the bark of a tree in Thunderdome. Georgie had been furious – not at the sentiment, but at the desecration of a living tree.

Bodies were returned to the ground with as much efficiency as we could manage. But each colonist had a plan for how they wanted people to bid them farewell.

‘Brian’s funeral plan,’ Rizwana said, ‘called for the Christian ceremony we just finished. He also requested that the tree planted in his remains be a coffee tree – which is why we’re gathered here rather than the cemetery in Thunderdome. He wrote, “I want to keep fuelling the colony long after I’m gone.”’

Brian’s words collided with the anguish and impotent frustration and raw pain of the moment, overwhelming me. A startled laugh escaped my lips. Beside me, Georgie snorted. Habi made a strangled sort of noise. Even Devon, who’d stood silently sobbing in Davy’s arms all day, joined in. Within seconds, the entire group was laughing uncontrollably. Inappropriate giggles were a thing; I remembered learning that at some point in the dim and distant past. A defensive coping mechanism, someone had told me.

The hysterics were cut short by Habi – her voice pitched higher than usual.

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