by J D Huffman
No monsters.
Chapter 8
Sprouts
William thought he would go insane from boredom, spending days alone in the ferry ship. Traveling to Actis had been one thing—he could at least get a sense of progress, watching the map as the ship moved closer and closer to its destination. But since he put down on this planet, the days seemed to drag on and on and on. It didn’t help that the weather outside held the same monotonous pattern. It snowed when he woke up. It snowed all day. It snowed when he fell asleep. It just snowed. Snow, snow, snow. Every so often, he would go outside the ship and shovel away some of the powder so he could get in and out of the ship, keep the engines clear so they wouldn’t get choked, unblock the forward window so as to keep a view of what was happening outside, which was still just more and more snow. The rations included in the ship’s small stores were dwindling which left him with the recycled matter. All bodily waste went into a small but sophisticated reclamation system, and while the ship offered the luxury of chilling his filtered and sterilized urine so he could imagine he was drinking fresh-from-the-pipe water, he had a hard time putting it out of his mind that the liquid he sucked through the narrow tube extending from the reclamation unit had been inside his body a day or two before. He wanted to spend even less time thinking about the reclaimed protein that got mixed with a formula of simple and complex carbohydrates and a balanced assortment of vitamins into tasteless gray cubes. They reminded him somewhat of the nutrition cubes from Transcendence of Light‘s food slots, but managed to have even less flavor, which must have been some kind of achievement given that he didn’t think the dreadnaught’s offerings could have been any freer of culinary appeal. Still, no flavor was better than the alternative—anything that reminded him of the food’s origin was likely to make him nauseous, so he did his best not to think about it. This must be normal for the Order. What strange people they must be. Who lives like this? How can anyone stand it?
Fred was a day late with his visit, a fact which worried William. The troll was supposed to come to him this time, especially now that William knew Fred could brave the cold more easily. When Fred failed to appear as promised, William started to panic, his mind racing to all the worst possibilities. What if he’s dead? What if they started their revolt and already lost? What if they’re being tortured right now and Fred’s going to give up my location? No, the ship’s scanners would tell me if anyone approached. But maybe they won’t even approach. Maybe they have a ship in orbit they can just bomb me to pieces with. I’d never see it coming. I wouldn’t have time to run away, at least. I’d get a proximity alarm or something like that and then, two seconds later, I’m a million bits of debris and a crater.
He tried to distract himself by reading whatever information he could find in the ship’s database. That helped somewhat during the weeks-long trek to Actis, and maybe it would help again. Staring off into space wasn’t so much an option here, after all, and gazing too long at the snow disrupted his vision. The database told him about something called “snow blindness,” which he had a hard time imagining until he experienced it himself. How do people live with this stuff?
He dug more into the database, though it was always scant on details pertaining to the Order. He sometimes enjoyed speculating as to the Order’s motivations there. If a ferry ship fell into enemy hands, it wouldn’t do to have sensitive data in its data stores, of course. But it didn’t provide even minimal contextual information about the order. Star charts? It had those, though they didn’t extend much past the Totality Fortress in the direction of Lexin, which was somewhere downspin of where William had entered the Fortress in the first place. A smattering of stars were mapped to the north and south of the Fortress, and then things grew denser on the coreward side, beyond which was a large area marked as belonging to something called the Hegemony. Details on that were light, as well, which frustrated William to no end. Is the Hegemony human? Totality? Something else? Friendly? Hostile? Nothing seemed to say. Then, the Hegemony territory came to an abrupt edge, and while stars were charted true to their locations, they had no names and no information regarding who potentially claimed them. William entertained the possibility that no one claimed them at all, but it left the nagging question: Where is the Order? He had one of their ships, and Zotz had possessed one, as well, but where in this sprawling galaxy did the Order hail from, and why wasn’t it marked on the maps? William suspected that the absence of such information was itself a clue. These people must be incredibly paranoid. The database has plenty of basic information, but nothing about the Order. Nothing about where they come from, nothing about their society or civilization, no contact information, nothing anyone could use in a diplomatic capacity. I know they’re out there—they have to be, otherwise who built this ship?—but they’re like shadows. You try to pin them down and they slip out of your grasp. You can see evidence that they exist but never touch them directly. Strange people, whoever and wherever they are.
William thought back to the large mural in the Vault on Lexin, the one painted millennia ago by a young man who was otherwise forgotten. He could still picture it illuminated by Zotz’s lantern, the crude triangles steering clear of the massive black orb that he was all but certain represented the Totality Fortress. Those ships went to so many other planets, and perhaps one or more of them were home to the Order. William found himself amused by the idea that maybe the Order had been right next door, figuratively speaking, all his life, and he’d possibly never know who they were. He remembered Fred saying the Order were no friends of the Totality, but that represented the single most concrete fact he possessed about them to date. True, his Order uniform was recognized on sight by seemingly everyone, yet no one would say anything specific about them. He wondered how they could be so well-known yet so enigmatic at the same time. Then there was Lecius, the cretin on Golden who’d led William to a terrible and fateful choice. William forced himself to stop thinking about that immediately. Don’t do this again. I’m in a bad enough mood already. I can’t start beating up on myself all over again. Zotz gave me a job and I need to do it. I need to make up for letting them all down. I’ll beat the Totality, and then I’ll find out who these damned Order people are. Maybe learn something about the Hegemony along the way, too.
William was startled by a sudden banging on the side hatch of the ferry ship. He lurched forward so quickly he nearly fell out of his chair. Somehow, he’d failed to notice the lifesign proximity alert, too wrapped up in his own thoughts. If this isn’t Fred, the Totality must be really polite.
He grabbed the sidearm he kept lying on the console and moved to the hatch, pulling the lever to engage its opening mechanism and kept himself off to the side, scanning back and forth in case he needed to shoot someone. A gray-skinned head popped into view and William almost pulled the trigger, catching himself once he had that spark of recognition. Lowering the weapon, he quipped, “It’s about time.”
“My apologies,” Fred bowed, stepping inside the ship and shaking off the snow. William reversed the lever to close the hatch and watched Fred wiggle his appendages. “There were complications,” Fred said cryptically.
This worried William, and not just a little. “What does that mean? Did something happen?? Do the Totality know what we’re up to? Are they going to kill all of us?”
“In what order would you like your answers?” Fred asked, his voice uncharacteristically annoyed as he brushed snow from his arms and didn’t make eye contact with William.
“Quickly!” William almost stamped his foot for emphasis.
“There was a fire down in the mine. Crystal fire. One of our people was hurt. We put it out but the Totality punished us. Suffice it to say, the past couple of days have been difficult. They know nothing about you, so you can remain calm.”
“Do they know you’re planning to revolt?”
“Nothing of the sort,” Fred promised. “They probably expect us to remain cowed fo
r some time to come, given the punishment they just inflicted.”
William looked him up and down, curious. “You look fine to me. What did they do, exactly?”
Fred explained the Totality energy bolts—their exquisitely terrible yet nonlethal agony. William’s mouth hung slightly open in disbelief, though he understood better why these people were willing to rebel. He could imagine slavery as a thing some would grow accustomed to, the lack of choice imparting its own sort of comfort. He could not have imagined weapons so fiendishly designed, however. Instruments of death, certainly—he’d known his share of those, used them, taken lives. But devices solely meant to torture, to drive one to the edge of madness with pain, only to pull back and leave you with the memory? He’d never been one to praise the Lexinian Authority for its restraint in the suppression of dissidence, for in truth it showed none. He recalled an instance when Day-Vern Extraction struck upon a massive copper deposit running beneath a town of thirty thousand. The extraction process would inevitably destabilize the ground beneath the city, so it was determined that the residents would move. The Lexinian Authority offered pitiful sums of money, not nearly enough to cover the values of the homes, much less the costs of relocation. William knew this was not so much the fault of the Authority, as its coffers simply were not deep enough to compensate the residents appropriately. But when thousands of them crowded the streets of their city to protest, holding up Day-Vern’s preliminary work for the future mine, the situation grew more and more tense. William was a newly minted Militiaman at the time and remembered there was talk of deploying some of Erzan’s Militiamen to the scene if the situation worsened. It did worsen: reports never made clear who started it, but Day-Vern workers clashed with protesters and, in the span of an hour or so, dozens were left dead. The Lexinian Authority demanded that the protesters disperse immediately, and several veterans from Erzan as well as other nearby cities were sent to quell the uprising. The people continued to resist, weapons were put into the hands of Day-Vern workers, and something akin to a civil war played out in small scale in that little town. William was too busy with his new job to pay close attention at the time, but he recalled reading later that, in the end, hundreds of people were killed. The protests ended after that and everyone packed up and moved as ordered. The other mining conglomerates moved swiftly to execute similar maneuvers and six or seven communities were evacuated and demolished over the next couple of years, meeting no resistance as word of the massacre had spread. He never agreed with it, though he understood why it happened.
This, on the other hand, he could not understand. “Why did the Totality punish you, exactly?”
“For breaking a water pipe to extinguish the fire, and dropping some of our tools on the ground.”
“But you put it out? And no one died? Shouldn’t they be happy about that?”
Fred shrugged. “We are all expendable, William. They would rather replace us than see any of their infrastructure damaged.”
“You mean they’d rather let you die.”
The troll nodded. “It is the nature of slavery. I will assume that it is an unknown practice on your world.”
“Not unknown, but always illegal. I broke up a few slave rings as a Militiaman on my home planet. Can’t say I ever heard of them torturing people just for trying to stay alive, though. That’s… I don’t even have words.”
“As it happens, the Totality use no words for it, either. It is simply ‘punishment.’ You will find the Totality have a great love for euphemism.”
“I hate those. I can see I’m not going to get along with them.” William hoped Fred could tell from his tone that he was understating the point.
“Indeed. You seem like a very straightforward sort of man.”
“If you mean I’ll have no problem shooting these fuckers right in the face, then you’re absolutely right.”
Fred frowned. “That is not what we need from you at this point. You recall the remote communicator you gave me?”
William did.
“Lacking a more efficient way of reaching you, I will activate it when the time is right. That will be your signal to create a distraction.”
“A distraction?” William didn’t like the sound of that. Sounds like they want to use me as bait.
“This ferry ship possesses light armaments. It should be able to harass the Totality’s surface defenses. It will draw their attention while we strike. When I remotely activate the override signal, you will see indicators to that effect on your console.” Fred gestured toward it for effect. “That will tell you it is time to create a diversion. If you can buy us a few minutes, that would be ideal. Any longer would be a bonus. Do not get yourself killed, whatever you do. Once you think you’ve pestered them enough, set down somewhere safe and come down to the mines. I shall leave a trail of crystal shards for you to follow. You can join the fight then. Hopefully, we will have opened the other mining units and have a slave revolt in full flower.”
“This all sounds pretty ambitious,” William said, playing with his stubbly chin. “What weapons do you plan to accomplish this with?”
“We’ll use our mining tools, at first. Once we can seize some Totality weaponry, we’ll have an advantage. That reminds me… do you have any weapons you can spare?”
William put his hand out toward the supply chest. “Be my guest. I have my sidearm. I think there’s another one in the box. Couldn’t tell you if it’s fully charged or anything.”
Fred investigated the ferry ship’s supply chest and managed to dig up a spare pistol. “I will give this to Sasha.”
William shrugged. “Whoever will get the most use out of it. Just don’t get yourselves killed before I show up, okay?”
“I may be the only one left standing by the time you arrive. Let’s hope for better.”
Talk about self-confidence, William thought. Everyone else might be dead but you’ll make it, huh? “So, when do you expect all of this to happen?”
“In four days’ time. I’ll set a countdown in your computer. When it expires, that’s the earliest the cargo train will be here and the earliest our revolt will begin.”
William despised the thought of more waiting, though he knew he had little choice. “I’ll just sit here and wait anxiously for everything to start, I guess.”
“If I were you, I would rest over the next few days. It may be a long fight. Sasha also had one more request for you.”
William cocked an eyebrow. “Oh?”
“Whatever you do, don’t damage the cargo ships. We need them to get off this planet.”
“I already knew that,” William scoffed. “I’m not stupid. There’s no way all of you would fit in this thing!”
Chapter 9
Awry
The plan spread from person to person just as Sasha intended. It had to be done quietly, whispered in passing in the shower or outside the latrine, hushed voices sharing the secrets that would ensure their freedom. She knew it had been successful when Janus remarked “Good luck!” in a dismissive tone when she passed him on the way to another tunnel. She didn’t expect him to be much help when the actual revolt came down, in any case, but she wanted the entire unit involved—they would stand together, or fall together.
She worked that day as she always did. Look, angle, aim, cut, catch, toss. Look, angle, aim, cut, catch, toss. She had her cart a third of the way full by the time she grew thirsty. Her body had become so acclimated to the Totality’s precise schedule that she knew this meant a watering break was imminent. The bell sounded to indicate as much, so Sasha carried her tools up to the main shaft. The water spigot she normally used was down, of course, thanks to her splitting the pipe open to put out the crystal fire days before. She had to hike up the rest of the slope to the food dispensary, where everyone else was already queued for their measured drinks. The water had been rationed as part of their ongoing punishment, though they were
expected to keep their output up. Sasha hoped she got enough water from whatever the wall-mounted pipe offered.
Angel was just ahead of her, and when she noticed Sasha she turned to face her, pointing with a finger in the opposite direction. “Do you want my share, Sasha?”
She appreciated the gesture. “No, but thanks. It’s more my fault than anyone else’s that our water’s been cut. Take your ration. I’ll be fine with mine.” In truth, Sasha was more worried about Tau. He’d already gotten a drink, and based on what little she knew of medicine, she was aware that he should’ve been taking in more water thanks to his burns, the blisters of which still covered his arm. They had already turned yellow and brown and oozed pus, producing a stink she could smell from across the room. The way his eyes squinted and he held his arm told her he was in constant pain. Still, he never complained. He did his work just like the rest of them. He must feel guilty, Sasha speculated. It probably was his carelessness that started the fire. But we all make mistakes. It’s the Totality who would see us die for them.