by Amie Kaufman
“Sergeant, the specialist just hit planetside two weeks ago,” Oshiro said. “He doesn’t know the score down here. Christie made me responsible for him, so if you’ve got grief, it’s mine to wear. But you bring him up on charges, we’re just gonna be down one more techhead, and we’re already stretched thin enough to starve.”
Marcino stared at me, eight red eyes in his ATLAS glowing in the dark.
Zhōu’s laser sight poised over my chest.
Breath rasping in my lungs.
The MSG finally turned to Oshiro.
“Get him to the APC. He makes one wrong move on the way back to barracks, I’ll bury you so deep in the brig you’ll forget the color of daylight. You read me, Sergeant?”
“Yessir,” Oshiro said. “Loud and clear, sir.”
Oshiro dragged me out through the hole we’d punched in the wall. Shattered brick and mortar, the winter already creeping inside. We passed the red spattered on pink teddy bears, the stolen rations lying forgotten in the snow.
“This is ****ed up, Oshiro,” I said. “We’re supposed to be soldiers, not a goddamn execution squad. Wasting a little kid for stealing a couple of protein packs? That **** isn’t right.”
Oshiro stopped dead. Spoke to me like I was five years old.
“Welcome to Kerenza, Cherry.”
I am officially reporting:
Marcino, Ray, Master Sergeant
Ali, Kazim, Corporal
Zhōu, Yingtai, Private
Lewis, Linden, Private
for contravening Universal Engagement Protocols as outlined in the Araki Accord (2041), specifically Sections 17a i–xiii and 18d ii–vi. In addition, Master Sergeant Marcino has violated 4a i–xxvi and all of Section 5.
As I mentioned, if I am required to testify at court-martial, I will make myself available as my duties allow. I look forward to hearing from you.
Lindstrom, Rhys
Specialist, 720911(iix-s)
Assignment: Kerenza colony
RADIO TRANSMISSION: BEITECH PLANETSIDE COMMS—ATLAS CHANNEL L:0091
PARTICIPANTS:
Jake Christie, 1st Lieutenant, BeiTech Ground Forces Rhys Lindstrom, Specialist, BeiTech Ground Forces
DATE: 08/30/75
TIMESTAMP: 03:04
CHRISTIE, J: You’re wasted planetside, Cherry.
CHRISTIE, J: Honestly, you should be running the comedy circuit with this ****.
LINDSTROM, R: Hnk-ghh…
CHRISTIE, J: Well, you’re sleeping with your comms unit in, so that’s something.
LINDSTROM, R: Sir? What…
LINDSTROM, R: What time is it?
CHRISTIE, J: Zero three hundred. I interrupt your beauty sleep?
LINDSTROM, R: No. No, sir. We got a tech fault? Where do you need me?
CHRISTIE, J: Oh, any place the **** off this planet would be grand.
CHRISTIE, J: But right now I’d settle for the hell out of my squad.
LINDSTROM, R: …Sir?
CHRISTIE, J: I’m going over your AAR. Because I have nothing better to do in the middle of the goddamn night than read fairy tales.
LINDSTROM, R: Sir, yessir. Thank you for—
CHRISTIE, J: Did your mother drop you on your ****ing head when you were a baby, Lindstrom? Or did you just spend your youth snorting dust?
LINDSTROM, R: Sir, I’m not—
CHRISTIE, J: Shut the **** up. I’ll tell you when you can speak.
LINDSTROM, R: …Sir, yessir.
CHRISTIE, J: It’s almost well written, I’ll give you that. You could make a fortune writing ****ty sci-fi novels, except there’s no money in publishing. But, pray tell, am I supposed to hand this spectacular work of fiction up the chain?
LINDSTROM, R: Sir, I—
CHRISTIE, J: I said shut the **** up.
CHRISTIE, J: Christ in heaven, don’t make me have to put my ATLAS on, drag myself out into this blizzard and shuffle down to your barracks. Because when I get there, I swear to God you will wish your mother drowned your sorry *** at birth.
LINDSTROM, R: …Yessir.
CHRISTIE, J: I suppose you think you’re doing some good with this, Cherry. And I don’t have the first clue what the **** they taught you techboys up on Magellan, but let me explain how this goes if I boot this report up to command.
CHRISTIE, J: First up, Lieutenant Stephanie Tran, to whom Marcino and Co. report, gets woken up at zero four hundred and is informed that members of the 6th Platoon obeyed direct orders from Admiral Sūn but they’re having charges leveled at them by some rook with his head up his *** anyway.
CHRISTIE, J: Nothing comes of the charges, of course, because direct orders from Admiral Sūn and all, but Lieutenant Tran tells Marcino about your AAR anyway. And pretty soon word spreads throughout the unit that you’re a ****ing rat who can’t keep what happens in the field in the field. And suddenly the people who you depend on to watch your back don’t trust you anymore. And they stop watching your back.
CHRISTIE, J: Tell me what happens next, Lindstrom.
CHRISTIE, J: …You can speak now.
LINDSTROM, R: Sir, if Admiral Sūn has ordered us to execute children, then he’s issuing immora—
CHRISTIE, J: No, shut the **** up again.
CHRISTIE, J: I’m going to tell you this once.
CHRISTIE, J: It might have been the done thing to go ****ing your panties to the closest officer when someone stole your lollipop on the Magellan, but on the front line, we have something called chain of command. You report to Oshiro, she reports to me.
CHRISTIE, J: And if you’d gone to her first, you’d have saved me the trouble of dealing with this bull****.
CHRISTIE, J: You’re new here. I get that. But if I get another report from you ratting out fellow pounders for doing their goddamn jobs, I will feed you to the ****ing wolves and applaud when they **** your bones. You read me, Lindstrom?
LINDSTROM, R: …Sergeant Oshiro didn’t report the incident, sir?
CHRISTIE, J: Jesus wept. Your mother bounced you like a geeball, didn’t she?
CHRISTIE, J: You’re on enviro systems in the OC tomorrow. I’m freezing in here. Bring Oshiro with you. I want a full diagnostic of the whole rig by fifteen hundred.
CHRISTIE, J: You read me, Lindstrom?
LINDSTROM, R: …Sir, yessir.
CHRISTIE, J: Good. Christie out.
[CLICK]
LINDSTROM, R: …
LINDSTROM, R: **** me…
The snow clears on one of Asha Grant’s video journals to reveal not Grant but her miniature sidekick, Katya Kowalska. The little girl’s making faces—puffing out her cheeks, poking out her tongue, crossing her eyes—and observing the results on the screen.
A voice sounds behind her, laughing. “Stop that, silly girl.”
Grant wraps both arms around Katya’s waist, lifting her away. Setting the girl down, she presses the button to stop her datapad filming. But she misses it, only turning off the display. So the camera keeps rolling, and we get to see what happens next.
It’s dinnertime. Grant sits on the floor of her tiny storage room, cross-legged, with Katya in her lap. She peels the wrapper off a BeiTech-issued BN2618 Savory Flavored Protein Meal Supplement Bar and breaks it in half, setting one piece aside.
The other she keeps, and as the two talk, she breaks off bits and holds them up to Katya’s lips. Each time, the little girl opens her mouth like a baby bird and Asha pops in the next morsel.
Those things taste like reconstituted *** (and don’t even start me on the “Real Caramel Flavored” ones), but when you’re eight years old and short on cuddles, a pair of arms around you can help make a lot of things palatable.
Grant spends the first part of the meal recounting the plot of a Super Turbo Awesome Team movie to Katya, taking her time over all th
e dramatic twists and turns. It seems she has a weakness for Brick, given how much narrative time his character gets.
About twenty minutes in, Grant pauses to break another piece off the protein bar, and Katya takes a peek at her wrist, pushing up her sleeve so she can look at the tattoo there. “What’s that?” she asks, tracing the letters with her finger. “S for…” But it’s a complex script, and she squints at it, trailing off.
“Samaira,” Asha supplies quietly. “Here, eat this. I think this part looks delicious.”
Katya obediently chows down but speaks with her mouth full. “Samaira’s a name.”
“Yes,” Asha whispers. “Yes, it is. My little sister.”
But she says no more than that, and Katya doesn’t ask. It’s a little while before she speaks again, but when she does, it’s out of nowhere. “Asha, where’s my mommy?”
“…I’m not sure, baby girl.” Grant keeps her voice even, kisses the top of Katya’s head. “But I bet she’s trying to find you. And when we leave here, we’ll go find her.”
Katya chews another mouthful, considers that. “What about Daddy?”
“Same deal,” Grant replies.
Katya swallows, and her half of the protein bar is finished. “I’m still hungry,” she says, searching her lap for crumbs. I mean, seriously, looking for leftovers from one of those things? The kid must be starving.
Grant doesn’t hesitate, reaching for her own half and breaking off a piece to hold up to Katya’s lips.
The little girl turns her head. “Isn’t that yours?”
“I ate before,” Grant lies. “Have a little more. We have to make sure you grow up big and strong.”
Katya opens her mouth, and in another piece goes.
Grant’s visible over her shoulder, eyes closed, shadowed, face drawn. But perhaps she’s taking some measure of comfort from the physical contact too.
“Asha,” Katya says, still thoughtful. “What happens when you die?”
Grant goes still. Takes a breath. Makes herself speak. “Well, when someone dies, we bury them.” Start with the practical information, right? But she must know that won’t be enough, not for a kid living through the horrors of Kerenza. “And we talk about them,” she continues. “We remember them, so in some ways they’re always with us.”
“No,” Katya insists. “What happens? Are you just dead?”
Grant kisses the top of her head. “You mean, do you go to heaven?”
“Yes.”
What she should do here is bull**** her. Tell her, “Yes, of course, kid. I know with absolute certainty that you definitely go to heaven, and there are puppies there, too. Ice cream. All your favorite things. Heaven’s the best.”
Instead, Grant takes another deep breath. “Do you believe in God, Katya?”
“I don’t know,” the kid replies. “Should I? Is God real?”
“Well, that’s why we talk about believing,” Grant replies quietly. “We don’t know. But some people believe so, and hope so. And those people think that you do live on after you die. Just in a different way from the way you live now.”
Katya considers that. “That would be better than not doing it,” she concludes. “What do you think?”
Grant pops the last piece of protein bar into her baby bird’s mouth. Gathers herself. “I think we do live on,” she says. “I hope we do. But I don’t know, so I have to believe. Sometimes it’s easy, and sometimes it’s hard. Sometimes I wish I was better at it.”
Her eyes are bright. She’s tipping her head back to stop the tears spilling down her cheeks.
“So…” Katya’s working it out in her head. “If people we know have died, maybe we see them when we die?”
“That’s what I believe, baby girl,” Grant replies, swallowing hard. She unwraps an arm from Katya’s waist to swipe at her eyes. “But I don’t think they want us to be done living just yet. I think they’d rather we tried as hard as we can to stay alive, so let’s do that, okay?”
Katya twists in Asha’s lap to wrap both arms around her neck and press a kiss against her cheek. “Okay,” she whispers. “And Asha?”
“Yes, Katya?”
“I think you’re very good at believing.”
The static clears to show Asha Grant sobbing, her hand trembling so hard she nearly knocks the datapad off the crate it’s resting on.
“Kady…” She gulps her cousin’s name, bowing her head, shoulders shaking. Her messy black ponytail is visible, tied up with a piece of string.
Eventually, she looks up. Eyes red. Breath shuddering. “She left me her gladiator toy on my pillow, Kady. She climbed down while I was finishing work, and she left me her toy, because she knew I was upset. She was trying to comfort me. She’s trying to comfort me. This kid, Kady, this little girl…”
Grant tries to steady herself, but though she manages to keep her voice soft as she starts, it doesn’t take long to rise.
“Do you know why I came here, Kady? Why I really came here? I never told you. You never asked. But it wasn’t because I got myself stabbed.
“It was because I wasn’t there when Samaira died. My own sister, and I was missing. They told you a g-car hit her, right? And because I had to sneak back to the club to make sure I was the cool kid, and I got myself ****ing stabbed, I wasn’t there.
“I was in a ****ing hospital bed two floors above her while they tried to figure out who I was and where my parents were. And as I lay there, my little sister bled out and faded away while the doctors tried to save her, and my parents tried to find me to say goodbye, to say…”
She loses hold of herself again, burying her head in her hands, silent but for sobs for the next two minutes. When she speaks again, it’s with her head still down.
“And I wasn’t there. After she was gone and they finally figured out where I was, my parents had to come two floors up and see their other daughter in a hospital bed as well. I failed everyone.
“I wasn’t there to hold Samaira’s hand at the end. In this strange place she didn’t know, surrounded by strange people. I wasn’t there to say goodbye. I wasn’t there to walk her home from school, to tell her to look before she crossed the street. I wasn’t there and I should have been there, and I…”
She looks up, and those eyes can see forever. Haunted.
“And I couldn’t tell you when I got here. I didn’t want you to know. I still don’t. I’d never tell you this if you were going to hear me. I good as killed her. But I’m not letting Katya down. I can’t. I can’t.”
Her hands come up to try and wipe her face clean, and she sniffs, deep and inelegant, then abandons the attempt to make herself look civilized. There’s nothing civilized about where she is, after all.
I’ll never forget the way she’s looking at the camera when she speaks again.
“Kady, what if I can’t get Rhys to do it? It’s been days, and he still hasn’t given me an answer. Everything depends on it, and I don’t know whether to push him harder, or to hold my breath and wait, or…What if he doesn’t say yes?
“How do I do this?”
Ten seconds of silence pass. Twenty. Thirty. A minute.
She reaches out abruptly to turn off the datapad. She knocks it off the crate, and the walls and ceiling whirl by, packing crates and pipes and darkness.
Then she finds the switch, and the camera clicks off.
To: ADMIN, Sec1b
From: KARALIS, Joran
Incept: 09:08, 08/30/75
Subject: Re: Re: Re: FAMILY DAY
Sir,
I am writing to you on a matter of utmost urgency. I participated in Family Day yesterday (thank you again for approving my request) and visited my wife, Alinne, and daughter, Mia, in Detention Center 3. While there, I learned that both my wife and my daughter (who is only thi
rteen) have been receiving unwanted attention from one of the guards assigned to their area, a Private Liam Gorsky.
When my wife attempted to pass a complaint through official channels, she was met with punitive measures, and both she and my daughter were placed on half rations with no explanation. Private Gorsky has not been reprimanded and continues to behave in an inappropriate manner.
My wife is not a well woman. She suffers from Roland’s syndrome, a chronic anxiety disorder, and there is no longer medication in the colony to treat her symptoms. Private Gorsky’s actions are placing her under further stress, and I am concerned for her health.
I am asking permission to move my family into the miners’ barracks, where I can better look after them. This will not impede my work—a review of last month’s productivity assessment will show I am well within my quotas.
Furthermore, I am seeking a formal reprimand against Private Gorsky for his actions. This may be a time of war, but the Araki Accord clearly outlines the rules of conduct for combatants among civilian populaces.
I thank you for your consideration.
Joran Karalis
Resident ID E892Kar
Engineer
Wallace Ulyanov Consortium
“Building Better Tomorrows”
Click here to register your Go-Mail, and access our full range of features.
To: KARALIS, Joran
From: ADMIN, Sec1b
Incept: 09:13, 08/30/75
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: FAMILY DAY
Request denied.
Admin, Sector 1b
BeiTech Industries
“Tomorrow, Today”
To: ADMIN, Sec1b
From: KARALIS, Joran
Incept: 12:57, 08/30/75
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: FAMILY DAY
Sir,