Bringing Stella Home

by Joe Vasicek

  The captain and his men moved down the line, poking and prodding the prisoners one by one. At his command, the soldiers dragged them off to the front of the room, forming two groups. A pattern soon emerged—the healthy young men went off to the right, while everyone else went off to the left. It didn’t take Ben long to figure out what was going on.

  Stella, he thought to himself. I have to find Stella. He searched the room with his eyes, but she was nowhere to be found.

  The captain was a model of discipline, but Ben saw the hunger in the eyes of the younger officers. He knew what they were thinking as they stared at the female prisoners, and anger burned hot and raw in his chest. It was not hard to imagine them surrounding Stella, their eyes sweeping lustily over her naked, defenseless body—

  Stop it, he told himself. Control yourself—you’re no good to Stella if you’re dead.

  The captain arrived at Ava’s husband. Ben tensed as Ava caught her breath. The captain took half a minute to look the man over, and with a wave of his hand gestured for the soldiers to take him away—to the group on the right. Ben breathed a sigh of relief, but Ava let out a pitiful cry.

  “It’s okay!” he whispered. “It’s okay! He’s going to be all right.”

  “Lay your hands off of him!” she shrieked, her voice almost inhuman. “Christopher!” She buried her head in her hands, weeping and sobbing.

  The captain went through the row in front of them with terrible speed. In less than a minute, they were at Ben’s row, coming toward him. Will they spare me? he wondered. He hoped, for Stella’s sake, that they did.

  They came to Ava first. At a gesture, the soldiers lifted her to her feet. Without any regard to basic decency, the captain reached out and felt her with his hands, poking and prodding her as if she were cattle. Ava gasped under his touch, while at the front of the room, her husband yelled out and started running for her. He got no more than three steps before the soldiers fell on him with their batons.

  Ben’s cheeks flushed with anger, and he clenched his fists. Rage clouded his vision—rage at the indignity of this treatment, the injustice of it all. The captain was only an arm’s length away—it was all he could do to keep from lashing out at the sick bastard with his fists.

  No, he told himself. Stella—you must find Stella.

  The soldiers took Ava kicking and screaming to the group on the left. The captain came to Ben next, looking him up and down the way an officer would inspect his troops.

  Ben wasn’t paying attention to him, however. At the front of the room, Ava broke free from her captors and dashed into the arms of her husband. They had time for only one quick embrace before the soldiers pried her loose and leveled a rifle at her chest. The sound of the gunshot echoed throughout the hangar in a way that Ava’s screams had not.

  Something inside of Ben snapped.

  The captain turned to bark orders to his men. In that instant of momentary distraction, Ben lunged forward and slugged him across his face.

  The captain stumbled and nearly fell, but before Ben could strike again, the soldiers were on him. Something hard slammed into his head, sending brilliant shards of pain across his view. A blow to the stomach knocked the wind out of him, and he instinctively curled up, but the soldiers forced him to keep standing. He gasped for breath and winced as the soldier in front of him raised the baton high above his head.

  A quick order from the captain stilled his hand. The soldier backed off, allowing the captain to step forward.

  Ben lifted his head and stared into the man’s face. His skin was old and leathery, splotched with age. The silver hair of his goatee was short and stubby, his teeth chipped and yellow. His fetid breath reeked of garlic, thick and foul.

  Ben met the man’s eyes without flinching. From the front of the room, he heard another gunshot, followed by quickly-stifled screams.

  Without thinking, he spat in the man’s face.

  The thick, white mucous and bubbly saliva oozed down the captain’s cheek. The other officers gasped in surprise at this unthinkable act, but the captain himself did nothing, letting the spittle drip down into his stubby facial hair. He blinked once—only once—and stared at Ben, his expression utterly unreadable. For some reason he didn’t fully understand, Ben felt a tremor of fear.

  Moving only his hand, the captain reached up and wiped the spit away, leaving a streak of residual saliva across his cheek. Then, he smiled. Broadly. Mischievously.

  The next thing Ben knew, his world was spinning with stars and pain. He lifted his hands as he lost his balance and fell, but before he hit the ground, his vision turned to darkness.

  Chapter 4

  James woke to the low beeping of an alarm on his computer. He lifted his head at once, blinking to clear his vision. What he saw on the screen made his groggy eyes fly open.

  “Dad, would you come up here?” he said over the shipwide intercom. “I think you should see this.”

  “What is it?” came his father’s voice.

  “A transmission from home.”

  In less than a minute, Adam was on the bridge. Two days worth of stubble covered his chin and neck, and dark bags of skin ringed his sleepless eyes. In his haste, he had left his jumpsuit unbuttoned, revealing the matted chest hair underneath.

  “It’s from the Colony, alright,” James’s father said in a hoarse voice as he took his seat. “From the Office of the Patrician.” He hesitated to bring up the message on the main screen, as if afraid it would contain some terrible news.

  “Well, go on,” said James. “What are you waiting for?”

  James’s words broke the spell, and his father brought up the message. The main forward window dimmed and became a giant, theater-like screen, displaying the text of the transmission. James held his breath.

  Attention, it read. This is an emergency broadcast from Station K-3 L5b to all citizens, residents, and resident aliens within the Karduna system. Timestamp: 9.5.3011.

  The following is a message from His Honor the Patrician:

  Greetings fellow citizens and friends, wherever this transmission may find you. As all civilian news and information services have ceased functioning, we are broadcasting this update from the Colony as a public service.

  As the words scrolled by on the screen, James glanced over at his father. The expression on his face almost made him look like a stranger; helpless and distraught, completely unlike the authority figure that James knew so well. It frightened James to see his father this way, and he turned back to the main screen.

  …have taken complete control of the Karduna system. We have lost all contact with the Federation Assembly on Kardunash IV and presume the annihilation of the Kardunasian Defense Forces.

  Hameji forces have also taken control of K-3 and all surrounding settlements, demanding unconditional surrender and threatening the total annihilation of any communities that fail to comply. Considering what they have already done to K-4, I urge all of our friends and fellow citizens throughout the system to submit to the Hameji demands.

  On behalf of the people of Station K-3 L5b, I have offered the Hameji our unconditional surrender, and they have accepted. Additionally, in exchange for twenty hostages and an annual tribute, they have agreed not to install a military garrison on our station.

  Selecting the twenty hostages was the most difficult decision of my political career. We made the decision by means of a random lottery, with all healthy adult citizens and residents included in the pool. No one was excepted, including close members of my own family.

  The following individuals were selected to serve as hostages:

  As the list scrolled upward, James’s father gasped for breath and collapsed into his chair, burying his head in his hands. James looked over with a start.

  “Dad, are you okay?”

  “Jessica,” he said, his shoulders shaking as he cried silently into his hands. “Your mother—thank God they didn’t take her.”

  As he watched his father, James found his own eyes tearing
over. He blinked and turned back to the screen.

  In addition to agreeing not to leave a garrison, the Hameji have promised not to interfere with our domestic affairs. So long as we pay tribute and offer no resistance, our democratic constitution and mechanisms of self-government will be permitted to remain intact.

  The next few months will undoubtedly be the most difficult in our history. In order for our freedoms to survive these trying times, we must demonstrate fair-mindedness and equality in all our democratic duties, and stand together in united support for all final policy decisions. This is not a time for frivolous speech or petty divisiveness. I call upon all of you, my fellow citizens, to unite against terror and work diligently to uphold our sacred, inalienable rights of self-government. May we survive these dark days to pass on our sacred constitution to the rising generation, and may they live to see a brighter day because of our diligence.

  End emergency broadcast. Message will repeat in two minutes.

  The words scrolled off the screen, and the stars gradually came back into view. James’s father sat in his chair, eerily silent. Not sure what else to do, James rose to his feet and put a hand on his shoulder.

  “She’s alive,” his father said, glancing up at him. “Your mother is alive, and we have a home to return to—thank God.”

  James nodded, but his heart still felt empty. Even if his mother had survived, without Ben and Stella, they were still only half a family. Tears burned in his eyes as he thought about it—tears of sorrow, not relief.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Ben and Stella,” James said. “They’re still out there.”

  Adam rose to his feet and put an arm around his son. “I’m sorry. There’s nothing we could have done.”

  James bit his lip, tears giving way to hot anger. He pushed his father away.

  “Nothing we could have done? Is that your excuse?”

  “It’s not an excuse, Son. It’s the truth.”

  James clenched his hands into fists. “I refuse to believe that.”

  “What?”

  “I said, I refuse to believe it. Ben and Stella can’t be dead—they just can’t! They’re still alive, and I’ll prove it.”

  Adam frowned. “How? James—”

  But James was already back in his seat, hastily bringing up the ship’s automated log. He needed something he could show his father—some scrap of evidence to prove that Ben and Stella were still alive.

  “Son, please don’t do this. You’ll only hurt yourself.”

  “No, Dad—they’re still alive. I’m sure of it!”

  “Don’t misunderstand me. I miss Ben and Stella as much as you do. If I could, I would do anything to get them back. But Son—James, they’re gone.”

  “You don’t know that,” said James, spinning around in his chair. “What if they weren’t on the planet when the bombardment happened? What if they were still in orbit?”

  His father shook his head and sighed. “They were in the middle of a battle zone, on a local ferry shuttle. Unless they made it to an outbound ship in time, there’s no way they could have escaped.”

  James squeezed his fists, driving the blood from his knuckles. He didn’t know what to say, so he ignored his father and turned all his attention to the automated log, eyes scanning the record of the ship’s activity in the moments immediately before and immediately after the first moments of the invasion.

  “There is a chance,” his father continued, “that they docked with an outbound ship and escaped the fighting. It’s a small chance, but not impossible. If that’s the case, they’re probably somewhere on the Karduna-Gaia Nova starlane with the rest of the refugees. They won’t be able to return until the war is over, but at least they’ll be under the protection of the Gaian Imperial Navy.” He paused. “But James, it’s much more likely that they were killed or captured.”

  “Even if they were captured,” James muttered, “there’s got to be some way to get them back.”

  “How? The Hameji never trade prisoners. Even if they did, what do you have to trade?”

  James said nothing. His father sighed.

  “James, please listen to me. You’ll only torture yourself if you keep believing that they’re still alive. They’re gone, and there’s nothing we can do except pick up the pieces and move on with our lives. I know it’s difficult, but—”

  “There,” James said, pointing triumphantly to the screen. “That’s it.”

  “That’s what?”

  “Proof that Ben and Stella weren’t on the surface when the Hameji attacked.”

  His father frowned and peered at the screen while James triumphantly folded his arms. A grin spread across his face as his father’s eyes narrowed.

  “What is this?”

  “The network registry. See that? Stella’s wrist console accessed the bridge computer two minutes and thirty-six seconds after the announcement declaring the Hameji invasion. If the shuttle was making re-entry at that time, she wouldn’t have been able to access the network.”

  “That doesn’t prove anything,” his father said softly. “They couldn’t have—”

  “Can’t you see?” James said, unable to contain his excitement. “Ben and Stella were in orbit when the attack happened, not on the surface. They’re still alive!”

  “We don’t know that,” his father argued. “Son, I—”

  “No, Dad, they’re alive—I know it. I can feel it!”

  “And if they didn’t escape? If they were captured?”

  James drew in a long breath. “Then one way or another, I’m going to get them back.”

  * * * * *

  Stella winced with pain as the soldiers marched her down the empty corridor. Their gloved fingers dug into her bare arms, exacerbating her already painful bruises. She struggled to keep pace with them.

  Up ahead, the corridor ended in a T with another. The soldiers turned right, toward a dead end—no, a door.

  A door that could only be an airlock.

  Stella’s eyes widened, and fear shot through her like electricity. Kicking and screaming, she tried desperately to break free. She managed to kick the soldier on her left, breaking free of his grip. Before she could escape from the other, however, he grabbed her around the waist and lifted her bodily off the floor. She thrashed about with her arms and legs, but he squeezed her stomach, making it difficult for her to breathe. Somewhere ahead she heard the hissing sound of the airlock door opening. A blast of cold air hit her bare skin.

  “No!” she screamed. “Not the airlock!”

  She managed to grab hold of the edge of the door as they dragged her in, but the soldiers easily pulled her loose. Together, they dumped her unceremoniously onto the cold metal floor. Before she could scramble to her feet, they were gone. The door hissed shut behind them.

  “No!” she screamed again, pounding on the door even though she knew they wouldn’t be able to hear her. Out of sheer terror, her muscles gave out and she collapsed on the floor. The air was cold and had a stale, coppery taste to it. She took in a deep breath and stared fearfully at the opposite door, fully aware that it could open at any time and send her flying naked into the void.

  It didn’t open, however. One moment passed into another, and nothing happened.

  Slowly, fearfully, she glanced around the room. Like most airlocks, it was small and windowless—the walls, floor, and ceiling were plain steel. The floor was cold to the touch and hard against her bare skin. She hugged her chest and shivered, then noticed a pile of burlap lying about an arm’s length away from her.

  Clothes? she wondered, picking it up. To her surprise, it was a one-piece tunic.

  She hesitated for only a second before putting it on. The fabric was rough against her skin, but that hardly mattered—after standing naked for so long, any sort of clothing was a comfort. She closed her eyes and leaned against the wall, taking a few moments to calm her troubled thoughts.

  So they’re not going to kill me, she realized. If they were, why
give her clothing? No, they wanted her alive. But why?

  Ben. She had to find him—he could help her. But was he on this ship? He hadn’t been in the main hangar bay—hadn’t responded when she’d called out for him.

  A lump rose in her throat, but she forced it down. She couldn’t afford to let her emotions overwhelm her.

  Think. If they’d brought her to an airlock, they probably wanted to transfer her—send her to a new ship. Maybe the same ship as her brother? Her heart surged, but she shook her head. No, she couldn’t count on that.

  One thing was certain, though: She had to escape.

  She drew in a deep breath and stood up. Her legs were a bit shaky at first, but she soon recovered her strength.

  The only way out of this place was through the two doors on either side of the room. Stella tried the one she’d come in through, but it was locked from the outside. As for the other door, she had no desire to breathe vacuum, so she left it alone.

  They’re keeping me here, she realized—but why here in the airlock? Obviously, another ship was coming to pick her up—but where would it take her? The question gnawed at her brain, and she paced nervously across the floor. Within a short while, her feet were numb from the cold.

  Where had they taken her in the first place? Was she still in the Karduna system? If she could get to a window, she might be able to tell from the arrangement of the stars. As a little girl, she’d memorized all the home constellations and knew what they looked like when she was out of the system. As soon as she found a window, then, she had to get a good look at the stars.

  Thinking about the constellations made her think of home—of her mother and father, and James. Another lump rose in her throat, this one much harder to suppress. Were they all right? Had they survived the invasion? Or were they—