The Only

by Michael D. Britton

  “So, what would it take for you to believe?” asked Aedlem.

  Selnem said nothing for a while. “I’m not sure,” he said. “But if current conditions continue much longer, I bet I’ll be willing to believe anything to get out of this nightmare.”

  From your lips to the ears of the Ghosts, thought Aedlem.

  “Good night, son.”

  #

  The days blended into weeks, and the labor did not get any easier. The only change in conditions was that the slaves were now allowed to speak to each other during meals. Either the guards had become lazy and lax, or those in charge believed the Panlithians’ will was sufficiently broken to preclude any danger of conspiracy and escape.

  Aedlem, Selnem and Jerin sat on one side of a long table in the huge, echo-filled commissary, gaining whatever nutrition they could for their slimming bodies.

  “So,” said Selnem, “is this life, then? Is this what we can expect to be doing until the end?”

  “Patience,” said Jerin, slurping his plain-tasting broth. “I have been able to communicate with many of the people we met with in the country. One at a time, I have been able to learn of their success in recruitment efforts. It appears we now have as many as five thousand allies, all trained in our codes and strategies. It will not be long before we can make our move.”

  Aedlem dipped his spoon into his broth, careful to keep eating so as to not draw attention from the guards. “Five thousand? That is excellent.”

  “But not nearly enough,” said Selnem. “There are probably three times that many in this facility alone, and from what we saw from the canyon, the city is surrounded by eight or ten facilities like this. And if each one is like this one, they seem to have a guard for every five or six prisoners.”

  “People on other work details say they have been getting transferred to new assignments as their jobs are completed,” explained Jerin. “Many of them are moved to other facilities around the city. Within a few weeks, I imagine we will have infiltrated all the facilities, and saturated them to about ninety percent. That will be more than enough for a coordinated revolt.”

  Selnem considered Jerin’s words. “Ninety percent? That would be enough.”

  “To speed up the process, we should try to get ourselves assigned to new work details.”

  “Split up?” asked Aedlem.

  “Yes.”

  “But how do we get reassigned?” asked Selnem.

  “I have observed twice that people are reassigned for fighting with other slaves. I suggest the two of you go at it.”

  “Very well,” said Aedlem, reluctant, but always ready to do the bidding of the Ghost.

  A shrill alarm blared through the hall. Familiar with the routine, everyone stood, collected their plates, and filed out of the room, placing their dishes in a huge receptacle near the door.

  As Aedlem and Selnem reached the narrow doorway, they pretended to bump into one another, and it quickly escalated into a fake altercation, complete with pushing, shoving, and yelling. Two of the massive, insectoid Kkàc guards grabbed each of them by the arms and pulled them apart. The rest of the guards brutally restored order, shoving the other Panlithians into line using the butts of their weapons. Aedlem and Selnem were dragged off in opposite directions, their eyes locked on each other until they were out of sight.

  #

  Aedlem watched as his son disappeared from his life once more, only this time by mutual consent, and perhaps, to a better end. The Kkàc guards’ powerful pincers nearly tore his flesh as they dragged him around a corner and through a doorway that led to a cargo elevator that took them to ground level. They frog-marched him across a courtyard and then transferred him to two other guards at the gate. They exchanged a few clicking-sounds, and threw Aedlem headlong into a ground transport with three other ragged-looking Panlithians. The door slammed shut and they rumbled off down the road.

  “This is it,” whimpered the scrawny young man sitting on the floor of the vehicle beside Aedlem. “They’re going to execute us. All I did was give some of my broth to my brother.”

  “They are not executing us,” said Aedlem calmly. “We are being transferred to another facility, to a new work detail.”

  “How do you know?” asked the man.

  “Trust me,” said Aedlem, putting his arm around the man’s shoulder encouragingly. He realized that instead of relying on Jerin, he was now going to be the one for others to rely on. “What is your name?”

  “I am Duljenn,” he said. He pointed to the other two. “They are twins, but they are both mute. Their names are Glazik and Hemran. They are from my old neighborhood.”

  Aedlem looked at them all, and realized that despite looking well-worn, they were all quite young. As long as he had the chance to communicate with them, he decided now was the best opportunity to tell them about the coming rebellion, and instruct them in the simple code language and signals they had devised. And then tell them to spread the word at their destination. The mute twins took quickly to the instruction, familiar with non-verbal forms of communication.

  The vehicle soon came to a stop and they were roughly pulled out and sent to their new jobs.

  #

  Selnem watched as his father was carried off in the opposite direction. They’d had their differences over the years, even been estranged, but he couldn’t help but worry about him and hope that the ugly, thuggish aliens would not harm him.

  His own arms felt like they were about to be ripped off by the muscled creatures. Within moments he found himself being placed on a ground transport to another detention facility. When he arrived, he was thrust into a decontamination chamber, and an additional tattoo was lasered into his skin next to the first one he’d received weeks ago.

  By the time he was processed, the work shift was over for his new crew, so he got to go straight to the barracks. The lights were shut off within seconds of his arrival, and he quickly found an empty piece of floor to settle down on.

  “Welcome to your new assignment,” whispered a female voice to his left.

  “Thank you,” he said. “What is this work detail?”

  “We work in the smelters, molding the precious minerals into blocks that the thieves then take back to their vessels.”

  “They are thieves, indeed,” said Selnem. “They are stripping our world of everything of value.”

  “Something must be done,” said the woman.

  “I am Selnem. What is your name?”

  “Call me Vesahg,” she said. “Tell me, Selnem, are you, by any chance, a believer?”

  Selnem rolled his eyes in the darkness. Of all the people for him to get thrown in with, it had to be another fool like his father. “No, I am not.”

  “All of us on this work crew are either of the old faith, or New Believers. We have faith in the Aliens of the Sky – we wait on the Ghosts.”

  “You’re going to be waiting a long time,” said Selnem sarcastically.

  “We are not waiting for them to save us, Selnem. We know we must help ourselves somehow. But our faith sustains us and keeps us strong, helps us endure.”

  “And you’re all believers?”

  “Not all of us were, at first. In fact, I gained my faith after the invasion, after being made a slave for these monsters.”

  “You’ve converted since getting thrown in here? I can almost understand someone like my father believing, but how can you believe when you’ve seen no evidence at all? In fact, all you’ve seen is how you’ve been abandoned by your gods.”

  “Your father believes, yet you do not? Do you think your father is a liar?”

  “No, only a fool.”

  A few moments of silence was all it took for Selnem to realize his faux pas.

  “Oh - I’m so sorry, Vesahg. I just met you and then proceeded to insult you. I did not mean to call you a fool – that is not what I intended. It’s just–”

  “You do not need to explain,” said V
esahg. To Selnem’s surprise, her voice did not indicate any umbrage. In fact, she sounded warm and kind. “It is alright that you do not understand, and it is good that you realize your own inability to understand. Such humility is a good starting place for growing.”

  Selnem laid his head back on the hard floor and found himself smiling for the first time in a long time. It seemed his fellow prisoners were going to do their best to convert him.

  “I’d like to continue this conversation,” said Vesahg, “but the smelter room is hard work, and we both need our rest. Stick near me tomorrow, I’ll show you the ropes here, and we can speak at meal time.”

  “Alright,” said Selnem. “Goodnight.” Believer or not, he had made a good contact already, someone who he could recruit and who he felt could even be a leader in the rebellion.

  #

  Jerin watched the Kkàc guards viciously tear the two Panlithians apart and drag them off in opposite directions. Their faces remained stoic, despite the obvious pain they must be feeling from the earwig-like claws of the Kkàc. Their courage pleased him. He knew they would have success recruiting more people into the rebellion, and that the time would soon be at hand for them to rise up and begin the liberation of this planet.

  Having observed these people for hundreds of their generations, he knew of their resilience, their strength, and their great faith – despite the profound loss of faith that had occurred since his own people had been forced to depart recently. Thirty-two years was still within a lifetime for Panlithians, and Jerin was confident that there was still enough of a memory living in the hearts of the surviving Panlithians to sustain their faith and plant seeds of a new faith among the younger people.

  Jerin didn’t feel that Panlithian faith in his own people was necessary to the Panlithians’ survival or success, but he did understand that their reliance on something greater than themselves was key to their ability to overcome. He had seen, centuries ago, how their shared faith had seen them through many trials and adversities – ones that would’ve threatened the very survival of civilizations of lesser faith. Believing in the same power, as a group, had averted or shortened wars and pushed the Panlithians to achieve their own solutions to crises. Jerin knew likewise that a renewal of that spirit could help them through these dark hours.

  From his contact with other resistance members in the work compounds, he was pleased to note that many of the recruits, the most zealous and hopeful ones, were either older men and women who still believed, or those who called themselves New Believers – young converts to the old ways.

  These were good developments – but Jerin had his own problems. Having lost contact with his own people, he had no way of knowing how the war was going. He knew his people had engaged the Kkàc near the edge of this solar system, but beyond that information, little was known. The Kkàc had obviously broken the lines, but Jerin knew nothing of how bad the situation was out there – whether the Kkàc had merely won a small victory, or if they had totally defeated his people.

  Although Jerin possessed the ability to communicate with his people telepathically, he’d been unable to do so since shortly before the Kkàc had arrived on Panlithia. There were any number of reasons for this, so Jerin did not let that trouble him unduly. But now he needed the help of Panlithia.

  He was stranded.

  He didn’t have the power within himself to simply return to his native form and fly off and find the others. To undergo a full transformation and become like the rest of his people once again, he required the assistance of two others like him. The only other way to contact his people once more was for a large number of the people of this world to call out to them in unison, creating a powerful telepathic conduit to reach his people – a signal of higher energy than Jerin could produce on his own. And that would only happen if enough Panlithians rediscovered their faith.

  #

  Aedlem’s new work assignment found him sweeping debris all day. He wasn’t sure what he was cleaning up – it seemed to be shards of glass mixed with small wood chips and fragments of clay. He had no idea how the rubble was produced, or why, only that every morning there was a new layer of the stuff for him to shovel and sweep away into a large metal recycling receptacle.

  His crewmates appeared to be the humblest of Panlithia’s population – those who were poor before the invasion. Back in the Days of Light there were very few poor among the people – they were mostly taken care of by everyone else – taught to work for themselves and given the opportunities to do so. But when the Aliens of the Sky left, society took a darker turn and the poor and the meek were neglected as people sought their own interests. The slaves working, eating and sleeping alongside Aedlem were very much as the beggars found on the streets of the major cities.

  The one benefit to this was that they were less sure of themselves, placed less stock in the New Way, and were openly seeking ways to enrich their faith – as faith was all they had left. Some felt that the current crisis was the result of Panlithia’s heresy – that they were being punished for turning their backs on the old ways. Aedlem found many of these people to be humble and ready to convert and believe in the Ghosts. The faith they thus gained led to hope - hope of relief from this nightmare. And that hope was transformed into recruitment for the coming rebellion.

  Before long, Aedlem had recruited, or had recruits who in turn recruited, every single slave in the facility.

  Upon learning from his new friends that everyone was on board, his thoughts turned to his son, and to Jerin. Were they having as much success? Would Jerin soon contact him through the network, to initiate the revolt? For now, all he could do was wait and wonder.

  #

  Selnem began to feel the weight of responsibility.

  Before all this started, he was just a writer, working in a small bureau of the central government, writing boring reports. No danger, no adventure, and very little responsibility. Now he was a leader of a great, secret rebellion. Soon, that rebellion would no longer be a secret, and the danger would intensify. People he was leading would surely die – he may even die himself.

  The only things that kept him strong in the face of what lay ahead, and kept him going from day to grueling day of forced labor, were his hope for a free Panlithia, and the love of Vesagh.

  Although they had to keep it discreet, Selnem and Vesagh had fallen deeply in love. Somehow, despite their differences, they had much in common, not the least of which was their shared love of Panlithia and desire to see her liberated from the Kkàc.

  The squeaking, clicking beasts seemed to have no compassion, no interest in kindness or mercy, only in achieving their selfish objective of taking everything of value from Panlithia. And it seemed clear that when they were done, however long that may take, they would leave nothing alive in their wake.

  At least, that’s what Jerin had said. Not that he could have known. He was always mysterious, yet deeply likable. He had a sense about him of serenity and joy, despite the horror of their state of bondage.

  Selnem realized that Vesagh had that same quality – to be at peace despite the circumstances. She had told him it was because of her faith, but he said he didn’t think that was it. But, the more he observed all the believers surrounding him, the more he started to see that their faith was somehow sustaining them. He found it odd that they could take solace in a belief in beings who had abandoned them, and were doing nothing to help them in their most dire situation.

  Vesagh told him that patience was a virtue, and that self-reliance was key to their beliefs – not expecting to be bailed out every time they got into trouble. Vesagh said that the Ghosts would provide for them, after they had done all they could do for themselves. She explained that the way the believers saw it, the people of Panlithia had been doing very little to improve their lot over the last thirty years, so it made sense that they would be left to their own devices. The Ghosts, she explained, were loving beings, and because of that lov
e, they wanted Panlithians to grow, and growth takes personal effort and sacrifice.

  The more Vesagh talked to Selnem, and the closer they got, the more her beliefs started to sink in and make sense to him. But even if he could bring himself to believe, he knew that some very difficult times were ahead if they were to ever know freedom again.

  #

  Jerin conferred with one of his top recruits in the still of the night. He learned that all ten of the detention facilities had been sufficiently infiltrated by members of the rebellion. Each facility housed about twelve-thousand slaves, and each had upwards of ninety-five percent saturation of trained, committed Panlithians ready to rise up at Jerin’s command.

  The time had come.

  The next morning, Jerin instructed his crew mates to give the signal. It was understood that the signal would take three full days to propagate through the facility and to each of the other facilities (via the get-in-a-fight-and-get-transferred method). At dawn on the third day, the revolution would begin and the rebellion would strike its death blow to the Kkàc.

  #

  Blood and carnage.

  It was all Aedlem could see, everywhere he looked. Just two hours ago, in a massive, coordinated effort, every slave turned on the nearest Kkàc guard and attacked.

  Screaming like banshees to strike fear and confusion into their captors, some used bare hands, others used small, crude weapons they had fashioned out of parts they had smuggled from their worksites. Many seized the Kkàc weapons and fired upon the guards.

  So many dead.

  Many of them had been friends to Aedlem. But every Kkàc also lay dead, and the remaining Panlithians, though mourning for the loss of their friends and family, were also invigorated with a bitter, determined enthusiasm and ready to take the rebellion to the next level.

  First thing on the agenda was to regroup, now that they had taken back the city and had the freedom to move around as they pleased. And they had to move fast, as it was anticipated that the Kkàc would send in reinforcements as soon as they learned of the revolt.