A Hero

by Stephen Arseneault

Finally, there was Aarlis. He walked to a counter and poured a pair of drinks. TC did the same for the others. With a slow purposeful walk, he came over, placing a glass of expensive booze in my hand.

  "To Rayford Jackson. Hero of the Corporate Marines!"

  The group raised their glasses.

  They each began talking, wanting me to say something witty or brave. But I wasn't able to hear their voices. My mind was preoccupied, remembering Denise and Pea. The vengeance I had sought and achieved, now seemed woefully inadequate. Art's loss was also on my mind.

  As the others joked and celebrated, I moved over to a window that looked out on the city. It looked new and clean, a shining example to the rest of the colonies. Shuttles and transports were zipping around, dodging between buildings and settling on rooftops. On the streets below, I could see people walking, heading to who knew where as if ants on a trail. Five blocks down, an impromptu parade celebrating our victory was taking place. The world was buzzing, and I felt empty.

  TC came to stand beside me. "What a great day and what a great time we live in, Ray. The people are thriving. They're happy. Crime is down and jobs are up. You know, if you were just now coming out of college, you'd have a dozen corporations bidding for you to come to work for them. Fantastic times, Ray. Fantastic."

  I gave a half smile. "Wish I had your enthusiasm, TC. Maybe in time I will. But I don't feel much like celebrating."

  TC placed his hand on my shoulder. "Understandable, Ray. My father won't like it, he has big plans for you, immediate plans. But I think you should insist on a week off... maybe even two. You need the time to wind down, to bleed off the adrenaline from all this. I'll talk to him to see what we can do."

  TC patted my shoulder before turning back to the others. Sheila was next to come over. "Ray, I know this is all swirling around in your head right now. But, you need to get your act together. This is a huge opportunity. Denise would have wanted this for you."

  I turned with an angry glare. "Denise would have been appalled by the lot of you. And please don't say her name again. You obviously didn't know her." It was an unwarranted snap. Sheila had always been on my side. But I was in no mood for instruction.

  Sheila pulled back. "Sorry, Ray. That didn't quite come out right. I'm just excited about the prospects of our future. You should be excited too."

  My attitude was going downhill fast. Sheila was right. Denise would have wanted to see my success. But I wasn't yet ready to embrace it. I turned, setting my glass on a shelf before walking my way to the elevator.

  Aarlis came over to stand beside me as the door opened. "Take a few days, Rayford. We'll be waiting right here. When you get to the lobby, you'll find one of my people waiting there. They'll take you wherever you'd like to go."

  I returned a single nod as I stepped inside. The elevator door closed, and my body grew light. When it opened in the lobby, an aide was waiting.

  "Colonel Jackson. How can I be of assistance?"

  "Demos."

  "That's four days, sir. I'll need to check for authorization."

  The aide turned away as he opened a comm. I really didn't care what they had to say. I was going home.

  Only a few seconds passed before he turned back. "We have the go-ahead. Follow me. We'll be taking Aarlis' private shuttle from the spaceport. I'd just like to offer my thanks, sir. For all you've done."

  "For all I've done?"

  "Yes, sir. With the war. The news feeds have been replaying your heroic deeds over and over. There has been a slew of experts analyzing your decisions and victories. All quite fascinating. Whether you know it or not, you're quite the celebrity."

  "What's your name?"

  "James, sir. James Holman."

  "Well, James, if I'm such a celebrity, why is it I'm not being mobbed for pictures and interviews right now?"

  James smirked. "You're in the headquarters of The Corporation, sir. You won't find anyone but serious people here. They won't even make eye-contact without authorization. Would be bad for their careers."

  I frowned at the thought of having to answer to an authoritarian regime for such trivial things.

  James leaned in close as we walked. "My congratulations back there was not part of my job description. I apologize if it bothered you."

  "Not a problem, James. You can say or ask anything you like around me. If I don't want to answer—I won't."

  "Thank you, sir."

  The ride to Demos was quiet. James didn't ask questions, and I wasn't looking to start conversations. After landing, a shuttle took me to Denise's parents' house. As always, Don and Darlene were kind and gracious.

  After a short greeting, Don told me my things were in a set of boxes in Denise's room. I climbed the stairs in dread, not knowing what feelings the sight of the room might bring to my mind. As I entered, a smiling picture of Denise and Pea, sitting on a white dresser near the door, sent me over the edge. I broke down and wept. I missed them so much. It had been two decades, but I wondered how I would manage the rest of my years without them.

  I shuffled over to Denise's bed, sat, and laid back, rolling onto my side. I stared at a wall full of items her mother had kept. Sports trophies, ribbons and other various awards sat on a shelf. I had a slight chuckle at the awkward image of Denise in her prom dress. She was never one for dresses, always saying they left you unprepared for taking action.

  My mind wanted more. I rolled over to have a look at the other side of the room. There sat my boxes. My favorite picture of me, Denise, and Pea was sticking out of the top box. Again I broke down as I thought of how much I missed them. I had to look away.

  I stared at her ceiling for an hour before I sat up. I took a heavy breath, knowing it was finally time to say goodbye. I ran my hand across the bedspread of her bed before turning toward my boxes. It was time to collect them, to move them out of her parents' home. My eyes lingered on the bag that held the Togmal rifle. It was now a reminder of her demise, something I had no use for, but I didn’t want to leave it there.

  I opened a comm to James and asked him to come in to help me move my stuff. Don assisted as we carried the boxes down the stairs and out to the shuttle. I said my goodbyes to her parents, uncertain of when I might return. The shuttle lifted, taking us to the spaceport for our ride back to New Hope.

  Four days later, I met TC in his new office. A subordinate was given management of Echelon. TC had finally been allowed to make the move he had sought twenty years before.

  "Ray. So glad you are back and ready to roll with this. We have big plans for putting you out in front of the public. My father has given me the task of overseeing this operation. Don't worry, you don't have to do anything. Just smile and wave."

  "So no talking?"

  TC smirked. "There will be talking. But don't worry, I have a team of writers already working on what you'll say. You'll only need read from a script. And the interviewers will have their own script to read from. We've thought about producing all the interviews in the studio, but we need to have you out among the public. And knowing you already, you're more than smart enough for the bit of memorization you might have to do when speaking live."

  "Can't say I ever thought I had the face for a camera."

  TC pulled back. "What? You're a natural. Just keep doing what you've been doing for the last twenty years. That's the Ray people already know and love. We've been piecing together fighting videos from you and your fellow Marines. You're already a star, Ray. We'll be making you a superstar. When the people see you supporting The Corporation, that will make The Corporation a superstar too.

  TC sat back in his chair, clasping his hands behind his head. "Ray, this is all coming together just as my father envisioned. First, we reorganize the government. That is practically done. Next, we'll be reorganizing the people."

  "Reorganizing the people? What's that mean exactly?"

  TC leaned forward, placing his hands on his desk. "It means every citizen will go through a battery of tests to determine their aptitudes a
nd abilities. With the results, workers will be realigned into positions they can excel and succeed at.

  "Imagine a customer service representative who is always smiling and helpful. Or a shuttle-taxi driver who's courteous and always gets you to where you are going on time. Or a factory worker who has the finger dexterity needed for fine detail work, being the one doing the fine detail work.

  "Ray, when all this comes together, you will see an empire that is excelling in productivity, knowledge, and success. We will all be winners, Ray. Everything will be optimum."

  TC was enthusiastic. But I had a hard time believing his father's vision would become our reality. In the Union, people were free to seek work wherever they wanted. This new Corporation plan would force them into a job depending on how they tested. I had to imagine if you were having a bad day when you took the tests, or if you were one of those people who were stellar at what they did, but terrible test-takers, you would not be happy with the results. For any one person to be a winner, there had to be at least one loser.

  Ideologically, the corporate vision was a sound theory, but in practice it would never work. We were humans and humans were prone to mistakes, bad moods, greed, sloth and any number of other issues, on any given day. The closed system of assigned rank in society had failed a thousand times over. I had no confidence it would be successful here.

  There was no substitute for the feeling of accomplishment or failure had from individual liberty. It had allowed humanity to grow and expand to the stars. Over time, the best of the best naturally rose to the top. We would now be facing an empire where the best at one period in time were plucked out and placed at the top. It would not be the utopia the Goodalls envisioned. But I was only one man. One broken man. I wondered where I would end up being assigned when the propaganda and marketing blitz was over.

  TC directed me to go to my hotel and to report back to the executive tower in the morning. He would take me to an auditorium for lessons where they would teach me the proper way to read from scripts. TC assured me I would have no difficulties, I only had to be myself. I wondered how long that assurance would hold.

  When I got back to the hotel, I settled in for the evening. I grabbed a bowl of cut fruit, a spoon, and a napkin from the kitchen before plopping down on a couch in front of a display. The news feeds had nothing but smiling, happy faces going over the day's events. I counted dozens of times where The Corporation was thanked for coming to our rescue. The fruit was sweet, but my attitude soured after less than an hour.

  I let out a sigh as I looked toward the corner of the room—at the stack of boxes containing my personal belongings. For whatever reason, the bag with the Togmal rifle grabbed my attention. I walked over and pulled it from the bag. It was the first time I had held the trophy since packing it for Denise to take back to Demos.

  A mental image of picking it from ship debris on Echelon and firing it at a dead Togmal came to mind. That naturally led to Denise using it in an attempted defense on her fatal ride out. But instead of breaking down, I no longer felt the sadness from before. I wondered if my visit to Demos had finally allowed me to begin to heal. I had suffered for over twenty years. Perhaps that had been long enough.

  As I glanced down at the rifle, I noticed the casing had split. I also had the sudden realization this rifle was unlike the thousands of other Togmal rifles I had come across during the decades-long war. It was more compact, similar to ours. The power cell was a different shape, but the same size as those on our blaster rifles. I shrugged, guessing maybe it was an early model.

  As I looked at the split more closely, I followed it with my finger. It ran most of the length of the gun. I retrieved my spoon from the bowl of fruit and pried at the split. The casing fell open.

  I stared at the exposed circuits which converted the energy in the power cell into the plasma bolts we found so destructive. I had to blink twice when I realized the components looked remarkably similar to those manufactured by humans—although missing any markings or designations. The weapon then split fully open, dumping debris on the floor, including a small puddle of an oily substance.

  "Ugh. Way to go, Ray. Now you have a mess."

  I rolled my eyes as I retrieved a trashcan and laid it on its side on the floor. Using my hand, I swept the pieces into it. Both halves of the shell were stuffed into the can next. I grabbed my napkin and wiped up the puddle of oil before tossing it in with the rest of the parts. I walked to the kitchen to wash my hands, leaving the remains of the rifle in the trash. It wasn't a trophy I needed, nor one I had ever wanted.

  My thoughts returned to the news feeds as a special announcement was being made. After several minutes of talking gibberish, the announcement turned out to be more propaganda. Disgusted, I flipped the feed off and went to bed.

  I spent the following day with TC, going over techniques used for memorization. The last half of the day was nothing more than practice. By the time I returned to the hotel, I was mentally exhausted.

  As I walked into my kitchen for a snack, I noticed the trashcan was empty. For whatever reason, I stood and stared, thinking about the rifle. I furrowed my brow as a strange thought entered my mind. What if the components of that weapon had actually been human designed? What if they were part of a grand conspiracy between the corporations and the Togmal? I had to chuckle.

  "Come on, Ray. Even as narcissistic as that group is, there is no way they could have pulled that off."

  I opened a beverage and headed over to watch the evening's news feeds. I made a game of counting the propaganda-praise being heaped on The Corporation by the talking heads. The first hour had twenty-six such instances. I fell asleep before the second hour finished.

  My dreams that night, and most nights, had a familiar theme. I was fighting Togmal. No matter how many times I was victorious over them, more were always waiting just around the next corner. The dreamland fight had become my new normal.

  ~~~~~

  — What's Next? —

  * * *

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  (Flip the page!)

  A REBEL

  (Vol. 2)

  CORPORATION WARS

  — Chapter 2.1 —

  * * *

  We stormed aboard Iceguard Station. This single victory would flip the balance of power. Our rebel forces were winning. The Corporation's moves seemed more and more desperate, their mistakes—profound.

  I glanced to my left to see Hayden Roth running beside me. His husky frame almost twice my size, even when squeezed into his battlesuit. I thought about the fighting-tech we had with the Union—before the corporations took over. Our new equipment was superior in every way.

  It was good to have Hayden back. His recent desertion from the Corporate Marines was a huge blow to the new government. He had the respect of his people. His changing sides gave our mission added credibility at a time when so many were beginning to distrust The Corporation. With his knowledge, we would capture Iceguard and finally have the upper hand.

  The station was dimly lit and ultra quiet. The drab gray walls told of its military nature. We had come aboard without setting off alarms. Taking the station was key to our capturing Echelon and the riches it held. Only Hayden's defection had made it possible. We paused at a corner.

  "Just up ahead," Hayden said. "We take the maintenance room and we control this place."

  I replied, "I wish you could have talked Sheila into coming with you. We could use her here along
side us."

  "She's not happy with Estelle running things, but she likes The Corporation over our former government."

  "I have to tell you, Hayden, it's been difficult trusting you. I would never have thought TC would betray his family like that."

  "Well, Estelle has him held in isolation now. If things go wrong, he'll pay the ultimate price. She can be heartless."

  We crept up to the next hallway.

  "Selfish to the core," I said. "Was there ever any truth to the rumor she had Aarlis killed? Her own father?"

  "I couldn't say. People who get involved in the rumor mill over there aren't around for very long. Dissension is something Estelle doesn't tolerate."

  I was thinking things were going too easy when plasma fire erupted, killing two of my team before the rest of us could turn back to cover.

  Hayden growled. "They shouldn't have been there! Someone must have tipped them off!"

  I glanced around. The fighters surrounding me had been loyal rebels for the past several years, some going back to when the rebellion began. I had a hard time believing any of them would be a traitor—given all they had sacrificed. Especially since we were getting close to taking our government back.

  We had sixteen colonies supporting us. Capturing Echelon would give us the natural resources we needed to take the rest. We were fast approaching the downhill portion of our war for freedom.

  I shook my head. "No. This has to be bad luck. We've been watching this station for weeks. There has been no troop movement on or off here for that length of time."

  "Well, they came from somewhere." Hayden huffed.

  I leaned around a corner and fired off several rounds. "Has to be a fluke." I turned to my best officer. "Forbes, take a platoon down that side hall. Make certain we aren't being surrounded. And if you can push forward, do so. We have to clear this hall if we want this station."