by J D Huffman
The rest of the uprising took the news in stride. The promise of new food sources raised their spirits somewhat. Meren smiled more, and Janus waxed poetic: “If I can find something oily enough, I can fry seasoned vegetables for us that’ll be unlike anything you’ve ever tasted.” The cooking oil available on the ship was entirely synthetic and devoid of flavor, and while Sasha rarely considered herself enamored with Janus or his particular skills, if he could turn some new ingredients into palate-pleasing dishes instead of the tasteless, formless rations they were living on, she’d be sure to write some kind words about him in the new Chronicle.
On the topic of feeding, keeping Angel alive and coherent for the few days it took to make the journey proved challenging. After Angel managed to bite four different people who tried to force-feed her, Sasha and Fred took on the responsibility themselves. Fred’s large frame and musculature gave him a decisive advantage. With her arms and legs securely strapped down, Fred was free to hold Angel’s mouth open, and he threatened to tear her jaw off if she tried to bite him. Whatever else the entity possessing Angel’s body might have been, it was not suicidal nor too foolish to see that Fred could make good on such a threat. She did not know that Fred would almost certainly never do such a thing. She relaxed her mouth and let Sasha feed her spoonfuls of yellow paste, a fruit-based puree that went down sweet and didn’t have the most unwelcome texture, either. She was kept hydrated by way of intravenous fluids, so with the nutrition angle covered, Sasha didn’t have to worry about Angel’s body wasting away to nothing in the interim.
Bodily functions provided their own trials, in part due to the Angel-entity’s innate intransigence, but also because it had no conception of such functions in the first place. It shrieked about “disgusting excretions” for a while before Fred figured out what she was referring to, his sense of smell not what it used to be. A crate of Totality uniforms served as fodder for diapers, which could be washed in the ship’s laundry system and take on the same stale scent as everything else that went through the laundry, but at least they wound up clean. The process of explaining the mechanics of the situation to the being within Angel proved much more onerous than the practical solution.
“I will not bow to your commands!” it declared when Sasha broached the idea of the makeshift diapers.
“If you don’t, you’ll get to sit in your own shit,” Sasha put bluntly. “If you think the way the rest of us smell is offensive, wait until you’re smelling a week’s worth of yourself. And that fruit sauce we feed you goes through quickly, if my own experience tells me anything.”
“Disgusting,” she turned up her nose. “I don’t want the gray monster watching me,” she said, glowering at Fred. “Make him leave. You can stay and do what must be done,” she told Sasha.
This is not a time to cater to a prisoner, Sasha thought. She may look like my friend, but she isn’t any longer. This is a stranger—a dangerous stranger. She took a commanding tone: “Stand up, shut up, and do as you are told.”
The Angel-entity obeyed with considerable reluctance, but she did obey. Sasha assisted Fred in the process as a small gesture of humanity toward the entity, but that was the most she was willing to offer.
When the task was finished, Fred pinned everything together with industrial-strength clips meant to hold sheets of hull in place while they were shaped to the contours of the ship’s exterior. Sasha hoped they would be sufficient to keep Angel’s diaper from falling off unbidden. That problem solved, she was able to turn her attention to other matters.
Fred followed her back to her office and she knew something had to be on his mind. He wouldn’t risk annoying her for no reason, and he had to be aware of how aggravated she’d become with him of late. “I have a favor to ask,” he said, once they were out of earshot of everyone else.
“I assumed that already,” she sighed, looking through papers on her desk. How did I end up with this much clutter already? Some of them were complaints written up by the ship’s residents who could write. Some were in languages she didn’t know whatsoever and would have to find someone to translate. She meant to find the paper she’d written on Arkady and his followers. She intended to ask their leader some questions—whoever that might be. Giving up on the desk, she turned around to face the troll and folded her arms. “Well, go ahead.”
“I would like to take William with us when we leave the ship to find Arkady’s people.”
She stared at him, waiting for the rest.
“I believe there is something unique about him. He may be able to offer us insights into these people that we would not have otherwise.”
As cryptic as ever, she thought. “I know you have a soft spot for him. You have since you introduced us on Actis. I do not know why, exactly. I can’t say I like it. He’s shown himself to be competent. Reliable. He’ll throw himself into battle no matter the risk. I appreciate that, to a point. He’s a good soldier. But I don’t trust him. Not completely.”
“You don’t even trust me at the moment,” Fred reminded her.
“I’m well aware,” she said dismissively. “I’m going to need something better than your gut feeling on this one, Fred. Or are you ready to tell me everything you know?”
“It is not the time,” he deflected. “Look at it this way. There is no harm in him accompanying us. He will keep what we see and do in strict confidence. I will make certain of that. The rest of the ship will never find out who we met on the planet. If you need an explanation to placate the others, William’s skills in scouting large areas can be cited.”
“What if someone else has those skills and wants to come?”
“William has already volunteered, so there is no need for further assistance.”
“Has he?”
“No, but that is the reasoning we can offer,” Fred bowed.
He’s trying to get back on my good side, she noticed. Am I being too hard on him? “Fine, he can come. But make it clear to him that he does nothing without my approval. This is my mission. Angel’s my responsibility. And this is all secret. I can’t have the rest of the ship knowing we’re consorting with Totality, of all ‘people.’”
“I will make certain he understands,” he promised.
With that, he dismissed himself, leaving Sasha to her notes and complaints. There are so many ways this could go wrong, she told herself. It would really be something if we were snuffed out on some planet in the middle of nowhere that has nothing to do with Cylence or beating the Totality. Just let me get that far. Let me get face-to-face with Cylence. Win or lose, I could die satisfied that I got to spit in the face of that monster.
The day of planetfall came sooner than Sasha expected. She was in the midst of recalculating how long they could stretch their food stores, since despite efforts to fairly ration their foodstuffs, quantities still came up missing. At current rates of depletion, she figured they’d be out of food in several days if she didn’t take more aggressive measures to secure their supplies.
So, Fred had to come to her office to notify her that they’d arrived at the planet. It had no name as far as the Totality were concerned—Fred had manually entered its approximate location in the navigation computer. She had a feeling he’d done the math in his head, as he did most things. The command deck was kept clear except for William, who’d already been informed of his role in their excursion. Sasha didn’t want any surprises about the planet getting out to the rest of the ship, lest the whole plan blow up in her face.
She came out to the command area to see the planet through the forward windows. Fred had brought them into a close enough orbit that it nearly filled the sky. She saw continents covered with green vegetation, deep blue oceans, wispy white clouds, and the occasional patch of desert or mountains. Fred rattled off some vital statistics about the planet, that it was unusually old for this part of space and had undergone so many tectonic shifts that the surface had very nearly leveled out.
In half a billion years or so, the unassuming star around which it orbited would undergo an expansive burst and swallow the planet whole, an eventuality for which the Totality on the planet probably didn’t have a contingency. Sasha couldn’t conceive of half a billion years to begin with. Such an enormous length of time defied comprehension. I wonder what Fred will be like that far into the future. Does his body change at all? Would he even understand the life forms around him anymore? Could they understand him? She didn’t imagine humans or anything similar would still be around.
“How are we going to find these individuals?” she asked, peering over Fred’s shoulder. The troll was clearly running scans of the planet’s surface.
“I am looking for signs of settlement. That will tell us where they are.”
“Assuming they are still here.”
“If they are not here anymore, then they are dead. If they did not die out on their own, Cylence would have taken care of it, one way or another.”
“I’m still surprised he allowed dissidents to live at all,” she scoffed. “Doesn’t seem the type.”
Fred cocked his head slightly, never taking his eyes from the screen. “Cylence is a megalomaniac in the truest sense, but he’s not a fool. His empire was tearing itself apart. That one act of mercy put it back together.”
“A shame he didn’t stick to his principles,” she smirked. “They could’ve wiped themselves out.”
“Indeed. That would have saved us some trouble,” he agreed. “Ah,” he inhaled, tapping his finger on the screen. “Right here. It is not a large settlement but there definitely is one. Vegetation arranged in geometric patterns, structures that do not match the surrounding landscape.”
“Is there a clearing nearby?”
“Several kilometers south. We shall have to do some walking.”
“My legs work,” she snorted.
William must have caught her remark. He approached and stood to Fred’s left, opposite Sasha. “As long as you won’t be walking too quickly, I’ll be fine.”
She sometimes forgot William’s injuries on Actis. His recovery proceeded, but the pace was not remarkable. Every day returned a little more mobility. In a few months, he might be back to normal. But we don’t have months. “We’ll be as accommodating as possible,” she promised. “I assumed we could strap Angel down to a cargo mover to make transporting her easier. I wouldn’t object to you riding one, as well.”
William nodded. “I’d be fine with that. Don’t you have to push those?”
“I can push two, myself,” Fred suggested. “Might as well put this body to use.”
With their respective duties agreed upon, they began their descent to the planet below. The forested area in which their quarries resided was thick with vegetation. Sasha imagined it must contain a wealth of edible plants, and possibly small animals. Fred noted berry bushes and other possible sources of food in the clearing. They’d managed to gather several volunteers to help forage while the four of them were away trying to save Angel’s life. Sasha began to feel confident in their plan. They’d arrived without incident, and as the ship set down upon the soft grass, she felt as if things might work out. She needed them to.
In the main cargo bay, Sasha laid out everyone’s instructions one more time before they disembarked. “Fred, William, Angel, and myself will be heading north, where Fred believes some edible herbs grow. He’s detected a lot of promising vegetation to the west, so that’s where the rest of you should go. Both teams have timers that will signal half a day before our scheduled departure. Fred’s programmed them to also point the way back to the ship.” Sasha looked at the one on her wrist, a simple circle with a clear lens over a black backing, ready to start counting down. A red arrow pointed ahead of her, indicating the fore section of the ship, where the tracking beacon was located. “We’ve handed out the voice links we have, but they may not function well over distance. If you’re worried about being out of touch, just come back to the ship. Don’t do anything foolish. If it looks edible, use your portable testing kit to determine if it is. It’ll detect any pathogens or poisons that might be harmful to humans. This should go without saying, but don’t bring back things we can’t eat. Any questions?”
There were none.
She turned to William, who stood on one of the cargo movers, and Angel, who sat on another, her arms and legs strapped to piping that had been hastily welded to the surfaces of the cargo mover with hull repair tools. She looked unhappy about her predicament but did not, as yet, offer protest. Soon, Sasha thought. The moment she sees an opening to escape, I have no doubt she’ll try.
She lowered the ramp from the rear of the ship and Fred started pushing the cargo movers down, one with each hand. He grunted under his breath from the exertion. Sasha followed, then turned to watch Meren lead the other team down. With Demeter and Serim dead and Angel incapacitated, Janus was the only member of their original mining unit left behind. Loathe as she was to put him in charge, there was no one else she yet trusted enough to manage the ship. As a precaution, she carried the ship’s launch fob in her pocket, without which the ship couldn’t take off. Traditionally, the fob was carried by the ship’s commander whenever he disembarked at port—so Fred had informed her—and she saw no problem with following that tradition. She trusted that, should she come to an untimely fate, Fred would return to the cargo ship and see everyone else to safety. If Fred doesn’t find a way to make it out, everyone else is doomed, anyway.
She felt naked as they moved through the forest, unarmed. Fred had insisted upon that. “These people are pacifists,” he’d told her. “If we show up with weapons, they will never trust us. We must make a show of good faith.” Sasha had only agreed under duress. After losing Tau, Serim, Demeter, Ian, and so many others, she hated the idea of sacrificing one more person. So, she went along with his forceful suggestion, despite how she detested it. She wanted to come up with a pithy threat against Fred should his “show of good faith” get her killed, but that was the whole problem: she could die, and he couldn’t. There was no real way to punish him, unless people meant something to him, and she could never be certain of that. Are mortal lives worth anything to a creature with eternal life? Is the life of a fly worth anything to a human? She found herself wishing she could go back to ignorance, back to the mines, when Fred was her confidante and mentor, the man who’d shielded and shaped her from childhood, who stood in as a surrogate father in an environment that would’ve been content to devour her whole. She went back and forth in her mind as to whether she was being reasonable. Despite their recent difficulties, he’d almost always done nothing but help and heal her, so unless he’d made a very lengthy game out of showing her kindness with the end goal being some elaborate betrayal, she decided she was seriously overthinking the matter. He has his secrets, but then everyone does, don’t they? Just because I wouldn’t tell him everything about my former life doesn’t mean I hate him or want to deprive him, does it? Maybe his secrets mean something like that to him. Maybe they’re too painful to share and his way of expressing that is impossible for me to relate to. Seems plausible, at least for a creature that can’t die. I don’t even know how old he is. Probably older than I could imagine.
They dodged trees and jutting roots, kicking dirt and mud and sticky fungi from their boots. On a few occasions, William got off the cargo mover to walk because he found the ride too bumpy. Fred had an easier time pushing one loaded cart and one heavy one, so he didn’t mind the change. Angel stared coldly into the distance, as if she was no longer there. Sasha engaged her every so often to make sure the presence hadn’t simply departed.
“I don’t know what you think you’re going to do to me, but it won’t work,” the possessed woman promised.
“We’ll see about that,” was all Sasha had to say about it.
She brushed her fingertips over each of the trees they moved past, uncertain if she wanted to let the open space
into her head. Childhood was only distant memories now. Running through her father’s fields existed more as an impression than something real that she experienced. The bulk of her reality was confined to that mine on Actis, cramped and hot and dusty and sweaty and repetitive. She could run down the horizontal shafts there, but she knew it wasn’t the same. Nor was the moon that held the depot they raided. There, she wore a pressure suit, and a barren, nondescript surface didn’t offer the same feel as an honest planet filled with life. The trees went on for as far as she could see and in her mind she imagined they kept going forever. She could walk and walk and walk and never reach the end, only more and different trees. She thought about just staying here, whether they found the Totality or not. What if I gave the launch fob to Fred and told him to go? I could disappear into the woods and never bother with any of this again. I wonder if William would understand. I wonder if his world has places like this. I know mine did, and I miss them. I can’t remember them properly anymore, but I miss them. This feels like coming home, she finally realized. She imagined walking just a little farther and coming to another clearing and seeing her father’s house, the one where she grew up, where the fat man from the city came around every month asking for his due, working the farm once her father’s age and toil had riddled him with arthritis, keeping it going for him, for her mother that she couldn’t remember, and because that land was theirs and they’d made it their home and no one was going to take it away. Not the fat man from the city, not the Totality, not the Order, no one. She would come out of the forest and he’d be standing there as if nothing had ever happened, as if the Totality never came that night and razed her planet to the ground, never captured her and tore away her identity, never scarred her with their sign of ownership, never sent her into the mines to die anonymous and denied of dignity.