by Avera,Drew
“And I have missed you, Father,” she said as she opened her arms for an embrace.
He took her into his own arms where the warmth of his body reminded her of growing up. It seemed like so long ago, looking back, but that was perspective playing against her anxiety of shipping out for the war. She had wanted to enlist, to be a weapon for Luthia, but she couldn’t shake the dread building up in her heart and the just how deep the hurt cut deep down being home for the first time since joining the Luthian Navy. Anki buried her face in his shoulder and when she pulled away there were tear stains dampening the light gray fabric of his shirt. He didn’t seem to mind.
His smile was beaming now, their reunion seeming to have healed a wound he also buried deep down, but neither of them spoke of it. “Please, Anki, come in. There is no need to spend all your time in the hallway,” he chuckled. She sensed he was hiding behind the attempt of humor and trying not to let on that a sob was tickling at his own throat.
Anki led the way inside the home of her youth, the same walls and furnishings she remembered, unscathed by time. The apartment was never large, but it felt smaller now as adult, the maturity and expansion of her concept of the world and herself brought most things into perspective. As perspective changed, sometimes it affected how one saw the real world. She wondered how much of that perspective was fed by propaganda.
The reunion opened itself to something Anki did not expect. She felt like she did as a girl, her father larger than life because he was her life. It was hard for her to see him the same way being moved around the world with her duties in the Luthian Navy. But here and now, in his presence, she felt it and that was part of what drove her to tears.
“What’s wrong?” Menegious asked from his chair across from her. She was too distracted to notice he was fighting to contain his own tears.
“I’m sorry, Father. I just have a lot on my mind,” she answered, not eager to divulge that she was afraid. He might suspect she was afraid of dying, but what she was really afraid of was never seeing him again. That phantom guilt was only made worse as she thought of all the missed opportunities to visit that she neglected due to her “responsibilities” to the Navy. Those responsibilities made visiting home an inconvenience and she felt conflicted because of it. She wore shame like an invisible crown.
“I know you’re nervous about your deployment my love, but everything is in God’s hands. The Luthians will fight our aggressors and prevail just as we did before.” His words were calm and sure, practiced, but Luthia had never had to withstand a killer like they were up against now. Global extinction wasn’t just a phrase tossed about nonchalantly. It was the whispered words people discussed in hushed tones when they thought no one else was listening. Anki knew this because she had heard them on more than one occasion.
She looked at her father, the man in her life who had supported her decision to enlist at his own expense, and she wondered how he could have let her do this. It was too late now. She had been adamant, forceful in her way of making her own decision. She knew he had relented because she made it known that ‘no’ would not be taken as an answer. Anki had dug her own grave and it was pure irony that she was alive to see the last nail driven into the coffin. This reunion was a symbol of her dying whether her father would admit to it or not. “I’m sorry, Daddy,” she whispered. She hadn’t called him that in years and the utterance of the word drove her to memories of being a little girl. He fell to his knees and moved over closer to his daughter, the one he would have to say goodbye to, perhaps forever.
“You don’t need to apologize, Anki. I love you more than anyone should ever love another person. You are my pride and joy, my reason for living. You are my daughter and I will love you forever,” he said. His words were barely more than a whisper as he spoke. His words reflected the sorrow she felt in her heart. The realization was like being punched in the stomach, she was leaving him behind and she knew he was going to let it happen because it what she wanted. Between the two of them was a bond that could never be broken. It was forged in the fires of everything they had been through after her mother died, or left, whichever the truth was.
Anki blinked away her tears and held her father in her arms tight, not wanting to let him go. “I love you too,” she said. Her heart felt bigger, warmer just saying the words.
Menegious pulled away for a moment, taking Anki’s hands in his own like he used to do when she was little. Her hands were larger now, but still felt small in his hands to her. “I’m going to pray for your safety,” he said.
Anki smiled, only because she knew it would make her father feel better. “All right,” she said. It’s a waste of time because I don’t believe in the God you believe in was what she held back. She didn’t have the strength in her heart to hurt him further. It was best to let her leave without another way of letting her father down. He didn’t seem to be keeping track, but Anki was. She wanted him to at least believe she didn’t give up on everything before she died. It was mercy, at least in her eyes. Mercy, or the lie she was telling herself to keep from breaking down. She honestly had no idea.
Chapter 6: Brendle
Confinement was a torturous form of isolation. The brig was nothing more than a room with cold walls and an impenetrable barrier that resembled a dusty window more than anything legitimately solid, much less sturdy enough to keep a prisoner within its boundaries. That was the point, though, to trick the mind into believing it could escape. The reward for such thoughts was paralysis, albeit a temporary strand, but it was enough to teach the lesson regardless of how dense the student was. Brendle didn’t require such lessons, but it didn’t make confinement to the brig any easier to cope with. Sometimes feeling alone was worse than the pain of shock.
It was funny, in a psychotic sort of way, how military institutions rewarded punishment. It almost sounded like punishment was something to strive for, but from Brendle’s perspective things weren’t looking very good for his foreseeable future. Maybe whoever institutionalized the military’s views on administering justice had a bit of a sadistic slant in their way of thinking, he thought. He hadn’t even been tried yet, but his confinement and subsequent punishment was a reward for misbehavior in the context of military law. It was a travesty and inhumane, but tradition had its talons sunk deep into the flesh of those whose compliance was a sign of servitude. Service was one thing, military service was another. Brendle never truly fit into the organization and despite impending death he was happy for it. He refused to be classified a monster for another’s gain, regardless of how deeply the word traitor stung.
As far as last meals were concerned, he was getting the best-case scenario of deep space cuisine. Mar was nothing more than an overcooked cracker, dehydrated to the point of crumbling into a suffocating powder if not eaten with water. It was hard not to think that was the point of such a meal, maybe it was easier to dump a body than to force an unrelenting man off a ship and into his death sentence. Brendle had no thoughts of fighting his way back onto the ship. The Telran wasn’t his home any more than any moon they might dump him on would be, and that was an unpleasant truth. Hell, it was hard to consider Greshia home anymore. For all he knew, the airlock would be the extent of his punishment, an embrace into the vacuum was chilling in more ways than one. Brendle sprinkled more of the mar into his open mouth and waited for his saliva to moisten the grainy tasteless texture a bit before swallowing. It wasn’t bad, but it surely wasn’t good either. It was sustenance and that was a reward in its own way.
A hatch opened with the sound of clanging metal behind him and he turned to see his first visitor in what felt like a few days. It was hard to tell, he had slept off and on several times since being placed in the brig. For all Brendle knew, it could have only been one day, a tragic realization he hoped was not the case. But with nothing else to do, with no one else to talk to, sleep seemed like the best way to pass the time.
His visitor was a female officer; the crisp blue uniform of the legal department followed the cur
ves of her body. Her hair was pulled back in a severe bun, the type that screamed no nonsense, but made men wonder what she might be like when her hair was down. It was the expression of a stoic disposition that made the biggest announcement about her; that upturned little nose and cold expression making her almost robotic. Brendle translated that into meaning she had no personality; or perhaps an inferior one at least. The woman eyed him warily, almost as if she were weighing how much of a threat he would be if he escaped. It was improbable, but showed she had no real idea how brigs were maintained, that if he made a move towards her in a threatening manner, he would be rendered incapacitated with more voltage than a man of his size could take. It was only a little funny to see how scared she was, confined within the same boundaries as the prisoner, the traitor they thought he was. The more he thought about it the less funny it was. Her cluelessness was concerning to him. A lack of knowledge was a weapon if used the right way. Unfortunately, Brendle would be on the receiving end of that weapon no matter what.
“Mr. Quin,” she said curtly. Her small nose was pointy in a way that was distracting, almost ending with a fine spike, he wondered if she could even breathe with that thing. It was a stupid question, but he was bored from too many hours or days in seclusion. Though she wasn’t unattractive, that flaw did take away some from the otherwise smooth lines of her face. She placed her hand above a sensor in the deck and a cylinder rose and allowed her to take a seat. There was no equivalent inside the cell, so Brendle stood, careful not to let any part of his body come into contact with the barrier force field between them. It would be embarrassing to get zapped and then piss your pants in front of the lady, he thought. It might scare her enough to make her piss her own pants too, he laughed in his head because there was no room for it here.
“Hey,” he said. It was a nervous greeting, partly because he was confined and about to be trialed for treason and partly because despite the tiny nose he thought she was relatively pretty in her own severe-bun sort of way. He cut a smile in her direction, hoping to break the ice in a civil manner. In a way that didn’t scream you’re in the brig for treason and this legal officer is about to see you thrown from the airlock. Despite his warm smile, the sentiment was not reciprocated.
Her nose twitched at the disregard of her rank and her shoulder insignia reflected the light of the room in an all-too-obvious fashion. Normally rank devices didn’t come quite so polished. It would be obvious to anyone that she was still new enough that rank still mattered to her. Yet another indication of how different Brendle was from the company he kept on the Telran. “My name is Lieutenant Prable. I am going to be your legal representative until the time of your placement off the Telran. I am here to make an offer on behalf of the Commanding Officer, Captain Elastra.” What she didn’t say was your placement off the ship will most likely be a death sentence as they toss your sorry ass into the dark. He could almost appreciate that willingness to not be so blunt. Still, not saying it didn’t make it any less true. He bet the words were just behind her teeth, ready to pour from her lips at a moment’s notice.
“And what would that be?” Brendle asked, the tension filling his voice as each word spilled from his dry, cracking lips.
A nervous smile curled her lips for a moment. It definitely wasn’t a happy smile. It was one where nervousness interrupted the words she didn’t want to speak, probably the ones about dying in vacuum, oxygen sucked from your lungs as your flesh began to ice. “Captain Elastra is willing to spare your life in return for a confession,” she said.
Surprised, Brendle eyed her, trying to figure out what the catch would be. Naval doctrine is pretty clear on matters of treason, he thought. If the captain was willing to spare his life, there must be a reason, maybe Captain Elastra didn’t believe the charges after all. He allowed himself to have a little hope. “What do you mean by spare my life? Do you mean I’ll be freed and the charges dropped?”
Lieutenant Prable stood and placed her file on the stool where she had been sitting. She stepped closer to the cell, but not too close. “Your confession, your admittance to guilt, will mean the ship will drop you on the first survivable body in this system. There’s a moon with a thin atmosphere a few days from here. If you confess, then he is willing to drop you and let the gods figure it out from there. Otherwise, you will be released from the airlock and guaranteed death as you watch the Telran leave you behind. I don’t imagine that is something you would look forward to, so I suggest you take his offer into consideration. It really is a good deal,” she finished. Her speech was well said, a little too rehearsed sounding, but life on a rock beat the hell out of death in the dark, at least until you starve to death.
To Brendle, the deal was lose-lose. “It’s the death you know and the death you don’t know,” he said. He wasn’t wrong. Like all things military related, this deal was a little too good to be true.
She wiped her hands on her pants before speaking. “Everyone on the Telran considers you a traitor. If you don’t confess, your death will be more severe because the crew will also consider you a liar. There’s no need to dishonor your family with two sins against our people. Why not take the easy death?” It was the first true thing to escape her lips. He would be forced to walk a gauntlet of punishment before succumbing to the airlock. At least with the admission of guilt he would be dropped off to fend for himself. It wasn’t an ideal outlook, but at least it was one he might have some control over. Either way, lose-lose.
Brendle inhaled deeply. “All right, please let Captain Elastra know I will confess in exchange for the deal.” The words felt like acid on his tongue. Was he giving in too quickly, a premature reaction to the unmistakable death he was about to be subject to? Everything was moving too fast for his mind to keep up, but he heard himself right, he just agreed to confess to something he was innocent of. Brendle fought the urge to vomit.
Lieutenant Prable nodded lightly. There was a sense of relief on her face and an increase of moisture around her eyes. She must have been fighting back tears the whole time she had been standing there. Apparently seeing a dead man was unsettling, Brendle thought. It’s not like his body was even growing cold yet. The thought made him uncomfortable. Maybe the internal mockery of his imminent demise wasn’t the best attitude to have while coming to terms with it.
Her voice cracked when she spoke again. “I will, and I will return later for your signature for the official declaration.” It was all she could say before turning to leave. Four words to help seal his fate.
Brendle watched as she left the brig, files in hand and the light clacking of her boots against the steel deck, looking like she was on a mission to administer justice in deep contrast with the truth everyone seemed blind to. Brendle was innocent and he had no way to prove it. It didn’t matter how many times he racked his brain, trying to find an answer to lessen the extent of his punishment, he kept coming up empty. He wished he had never sent the message home, but mostly he wished he had never joined the Greshian Navy. He could have lived a lifetime without needing all the things he thought the military had to offer. Now, a lifetime didn’t seem very long at all.
The stool lowered back into the deck as she stepped through the hatch and out of the brig. Once again he was left in isolation, the familiar loneliness of his own mind projecting the future based on new data. His imagination was in a rush to see how much longer he had to live, but his heart just wanted to pause for an eternity and pretend none of this was happening. Wanting to know how much longer he had to live burned through his mind along with thoughts of how he was going to die.
Chapter 7: Anki
The steep incline of the loading ramp leading up to the umbilical burned Anki’s calves as she carried her belongings in a single heavy bag across her back. It was the kind of burn that rewarded effort, the kind that was more challenging for the mind than the muscles would make you want to believe. She pushed back the dull ache and continued her pace. The umbilical led to a bucket transport that would bring her to the S
eratora within hours, but during that time she would be pressed against her seat, the blood threatening to escape her brain for relief in limp appendages. The suit she wore would inflate and dam the blood into her torso until the pressures alleviated. It would be damn uncomfortable, but discomfort was a prerequisite in the military. Dealing with it was a defining skill marking the kind of marine you would become.
For Anki, it was never a matter of not wanting to deploy, but as each moment flowed into the next she began to worry. What if I don’t make it back? The question of finality echoed in her mind with each step, with each thrum of her heart. She was a marine going to war. Of course she had a higher chance of dying than she did of returning to Luthia. To believe otherwise was naivety, or stupidity depending on who you asked. She kept her fears to herself as she climbed aboard the lift that would take her into upper atmosphere where the transport awaited. The lift was nothing more than a small box with a single window facing west towards the capitol of Luthia. She wished it could face Surda. Even if she couldn’t see it through low-hanging clouds, it would have at least been nice to try.
Her thumb found the ascend button for the lift. Slowly the hydraulics powered up and the slow climb towards sub-orbit began. From her perch in the umbilical she could see everything, beginning with the swath of industrial complex that was Port Carreo. The Luthia navy used the port for many things and from her elevating vantage point she could pick apart the years of expansion as the landscape and building colors changed the further out Port Carreo crawled across the landscape. Everywhere the sea touched was owned by the Luthian Navy, and even parts more inland had been appropriated for the war effort. Like cogs in a machine, everything had a place and was used for the purpose of defiance. Hardly anyone said win anymore in relation to war, at least no one who knew better. Maybe that’s why I’m so afraid now, she thought. The propaganda was finally getting to her, professing the sort of truth that poisoned patriotism by making the patriots to afraid to rise. But the propaganda was perpetuated by the Luthian Government, why would they psyche out their sailors and marines before shipping them off to fight? Nothing seemed to make any sense to her anymore.