Better Homes on Galen

Posted on Sat Oct 12th, 2024 @ 2:13pm by Lieutenant Colonel Jeff Fletcher
Edited on on Sat Oct 12th, 2024 @ 2:13pm

1,646 words; about a 8 minute read

Mission: Boys of Summer
Location: Galen One, Costa City, Cundall Park
Timeline: Mission Day 1, 1620 hrs

ON:

"The golden fireball. Galenema aureum. Such a beautiful evergold shrub, at first thought native only to Australia on Earth, but here it grows. Not the exact species of course, but similar enough that when introduced among the flora of Galen One, and properly cultivated with care, it has thrived in this environment. Could not the same be said for us?"

Carlos Gentile flashed a warm smile through his thick, shrub-like beard, and stood slowly from his crouch behind the perfectly-manicured green-gold shrub. The camera drones arrayed in front of him adjusted their zoom angle and height accordingly.

Gentile began to stroll again down the garden path, accompanied by the light crunch of gravel and the soothing sounds of birds. Behind him, the park went on over rolling green slopes of immaculately trimmed lawn, garden beds of bark chips and brightly-coloured plants of many species. A still pond with some ducks gliding along the surface could be seen under the shade of a tall oak tree, dominating the background.

"Friends," Gentile continued in his disarming voice as he strolled slowly through the park. "I'm sure you've heard the worrying stories. There's all kinds of talk about this world, the future, what will happen to us. Worry like that, can introduce all kinds of stress and harm to one's life."

"Take this genus of shrub here, the dribbilus imbecilium. When it becomes stressed, it drops all of it's leaves and tries to spread it's seed everywhere, in a desperate attempt to salvage it's life. Now, is that any way to live? This endangered species, which grows easily but has such a fragile way of life, could be driven out by stress and fear."

"Rest assured my friends," Carlos smiled again, and started to walk towards the camera drones, "petitions are being made to the Federation to preserve our status as an independent society, and I feel confident our pleas will be taken seriously. Please keep sending those messages of support and protest of the relocation for us to pass on in our requests. Please, keep enjoying your daily lives, and please keep those charitable donations rolling in for the cause. In the meantime, additional prayer services will be held each Wednesday at four for the women while their husbands are at work. Please remember to bring more ointment, as we ran out last time."

"That's your friend and Mayor, and police chief, and college principal, and the resident Gavon supperware supplier, Carlos Gentile, signing off with another calming update. Stay safe, and trust in me."

With a final soft, disarming smile, Carlos waved at the camera drones, crouching non-threateningly next to some colourful garden bed. The camera drones whirred and clicked that the broadcast had ended. The smile fell from Gentile's face.

With a tired sigh, Carlos stood, dusted off his cargo shorts, shook the dirt out of his sandals, and adjusted his ill-fitting Hawaiian button-up shirt. This beard is so damn itchy.

"Preston, I need a peach tea." Gentile called.

A small bald man in huge glasses shuffled over, clutching a Padd and a glass of iced peach tea. "Another excellent broadcast as always sir."

"I need to change out of these damn safety shorts," Carlos grumbled to himself as he adjusted his trousers. "You have any idea how stressful it is to be so calm and soporific for half an hour straight?"

Preston was lost for words and just shrugged. Gentile took the tea and began walking down the path.

"I need my temple. What was the latest report on the fleet positions?"

"Holding sir, no change to report. As soon as the blockade sees a Federation ship, you'll be the first to know!" Preston said assuredly. "Well, after the captains of course."

"And morale?"

"Mixed," Preston confessed cautiously after a pregnant pause. "People continue to try and make viral NikNak dancing videos, as you requested. And a number of college girls are posting their bushes to OnlyFerns to try and establish natural flora preservation. But this week alone, our fleet has already had to turn back seven cargo shuttles trying to leave Galen."

"Have those passengers been returned to society?" Carlos stopped mid-stride, stopping Preston as well.

"No, sir," Preston said uneasily, a lump in his throat. "They're still being detained-"

"-Awaiting process," Carlos corrected.

"Yes, Mayor," Preston wet his lips.

Gentile thought it over, then began slowly striding back over to the main gate to the park. "Get them back through the training, hopefully they can be mentally fit enough to return to the city in a few weeks."

"But sir, the last people who underwent the training conditioning never recovered consciousness, the affects-"

"Preston, I'm trying to save this world single-handedly," Carlos said exasperatedly. "I'm trying to hold the people together with one hand, keep Starfleet at bay with the other. And all the while look like I'm doing nothing more with both hands, than calmingly pushing some soil together, right. So please, work with me here. Maintaining a society is like trying to grow a garden; for the plants to thrive, they sometimes have to drop a few dead leaves."

"I understand, sir," Preston bowed his head a little, mostly because he couldn't hold eye-contact.

The pair had reached the main gate. Down the hill, kept at bay by a police baracade, were dozens of people crowding together. They errupted into cheers and calls when they saw him, mostly the women. Further away he saw several police rushing two men with picket signs into a security van, out of sight and sound of the chanting crowd. More damn dissidents every day... why can't they see what I'm trying to do?

"If there are no other updates, Preston, I'll be at the temple."

"Yes sir. Oh, there was another thing-"

"Sure, I haven't forgotten. I'll send your grandmother that signed magazine."

"You're terrific, sir." Preston said with a wide smile.

Carlos nodded with his trademark smile, but inside he felt tired, so tired.

"Shall I forego the fan event, sir?" Preston picked up on his energy.

"No," Carlos shook his woolly head, rubbing his eyes. "But perhaps keep it to only a few women today, I don't think I have the stamina."

Preston nodded and backed away, bowing and nodding, still clutching his data padd.

Gentile went through the gate, as three security men rushed over to shield him towards his car, and away from the catcalls of the gathered young women and their even more enthusiastic mothers.


|| Temple Gentile, Galen One, 2150 hrs||

Once the women (and the two other men) were all asleep, either from spent energy or the sopofol tablets everyone had been snorting off the tables, Gentile slipped out of the silk sheets as quietly as he could and into his cotton slippers.

He stepped lightly over to the futon were two women had passed out lying head to toe against each other, and gently pried his velour robe out from the mess of blankets and threw it on as he stepped out of the room.

It was a dark and still night, quiet, some moonlight coming in through the temple windows to illuminate the hall. The mandatory quiet hours would begin in ten minutes, so everyone was at home preparing to watch 'Cold Case'. All the same, he was careful not to be followed.

Going quietly down the hall, Carlos reached the far door at the right; the waiting room outside his private study. He softly closed and locked the door behind him, certain he wasn't followed, and then as he reached his study door he repeated the process, making doubly sure the door was locked and secure.

In his study, alone and overwhelmed by the lingering smell of soil and the narcotics in his beard, Gentile keyed in his unique code to a lock on the wall behind his desk. The wall slid open, revealing an unlit descending staircase. Gentile knew the way very well, and went without any light. The wall slid closed behind him and locked itself - no-one knew of the room, no-one would be following him, how could they? Surely all of the warning signs on the doors would deter the curious. But they must not know, no-one could know.

It was a short staircase, only going down one flight, and once at the bottom Gentile gave his unique voice code access, and the lights warmed on. The door at the base of the stairwell closed behind him, and now his own breathing within the sound-proofed room seemed alien to him.

It was an empty room, save for a single chair in front of a featureless steel box in the centre that reached from floor to ceiling. Gingerly, Carlos went over to the chair, and sat like a child called into the headmasters office.

"I'm doing everything I can, my master," Gentile began slowly, shrugging, unsure what to say. "A lot of people love me, my soothing gardening programs but... still there is resistance. Still the Federation refuses to listen or answer, and I just, I-"

From within the steel box came a loud grinding sound, like sheets of metal scraping against stone at speed. There was a faint wavering in the tone of the sound, as if it were a voice trying to speak. As this blending noise continued, muffled by the steel barrier, Gentile sank from the chair to his knees, penitent, nodding his head rapidly as his eyes widened.

"Yes. Yes master, I understand, of course. Of course! Oh master, you are wise and all powerful, your will shall be done!"

The entity within the steel box issued one final gurgling garble, and then Gentile, still on his knees, rushed for the door, filled with purpose.

"I must tell them," Carlos murmured to himself as he raced up the stairs. "I must tell them the miracle of the seed!"

OFF

 

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