[geoschmo]

Graeme Dunford was no farmer. That’s not to say he couldn’t handle hard work or living off the land. In fact he was a professional outdoorsman. Together with his brother Michael he had been running a successful tour outfit in Canterbury for years. At first it had mainly been making sure the out of shape doctors and accountants from Auckland and Wellington didn’t wander off into the forest or walk off the edge of a cliff. But lately the business had gotten much busier, and much more interesting. Groups of idle rich folk making pilgrimages from Europe and America, dressing in funny costumes and talking in hushed tones about fantastic places like Edoras and Helms Deep.

When the aliens had come they gathered the two small tour Groups they had at the time, and loaded all their camping gear. Michael got his fiancée Ruth and her family out as well. They brought along as much non-perishable food as they could load on the ship before it left, a task made easier by the fact that Ruth’s father ran the local general store.

The decision had been made very early on by the small group of refuges that the long term survival of their species would require that they make contact as soon as possible with the other settlements scattered on this planet. Who knew what important bit of equipment or knowledge they might have neglected to bring with them in the few short hours they had to make their escape. And the aliens had been adamant in their refusal to leave any advanced technology behind when they left. Apparently it was some sort of cultural restriction that forbade such sharing with “primitive” species.

The other undeniable fact of biology was that in order to rebuild their civilization they were going to need to start making babies, lots and lots of babies. The interbreeding made unavoidable by such a small number of survivors would put later generations at serious risk. They needed to find the other survivors, and combine their resources, their skills, and their gene pool if they were going to remain a viable population.

Once the immediate needs of shelter and storage of the food supplies were taken care of, the farmers started the planning and planting of the crops that would mean life or death for their small band in a few months. For this task Graeme and Michael were no more then unskilled labor. It was decided at this point that the community could spare Graeme to make an attempt at reaching the near settlement. His brother stayed behind, and the oldest of the African children, 17 year old Kwami, would accompany him. The children had learned to speak French at the missionary school in their village, and it was hoped that between the two of them they could find someone in the other group they could communicate with.

Graeme and Kwami loaded their packs and set out on the mountain bikes in the general direction the aliens had indicated the second group would be. Ten miles over familiar ground, even rough terrain, could have been reached by bike in an hour or two. But the pair did not know exactly where they were going, and they traveled with extreme deliberation. Care was taken to avoid any dangerous areas, and time was taken to map out the area as they went to ensure they could find their way back.

On the third day they reached the other landing point. The group they found was two thirds the size their own settlement, but they seemed to be well equipped and were already hard at work planting their own crops. The two ships that had landed here had brought refugees from a small village in the mountains of Peru, and a group of Germans from a small town in the Ruhr valley. Though none spoke French, several of them spoke enough English that Graeme was able to share news of his settlement.

As Graeme surveyed the equipment they had brought with them, he made a pleasant discovery. One of the German refuges was a librarian named Anna Schrader. Aside from being very attractive Anna, had brought a large collection of books. Encyclopedias, literature, history, it was all here. And many of the books were in English as the library had served a decent number of American soldiers from a local army base as well as the local population. He hadn’t even realized until this moment looking at the stacks that his own settlement had not brought any except for a few odds and ends. But here was quite possibly the Last remaining written record of thousands of years of human civilization.