Finality

by Amy Cross

  "I'm not defenseless," I tell him. "I learned seven different martial arts at the academy."

  "I'm sure you did," he continues, "but that was always in a classroom setting, wasn't it? Have you ever tried to use them in real life? I can assure you, Crizz, that it's a whole different ballgame." He pauses. "Anyway, you don't need to defend yourself. I'm not going to hurt you, and neither is Sutter. Even if you decide to blow the whistle on this whole operation, we won't stop you." Letting go of my arms, he takes a step back. "Please, just try to ignore your conditioning and think for yourself."

  "No-one's conditioned me," I reply. "I just -"

  "The whole point of the academy is to condition you," he replies, interrupting me. "I've been through the place, remember? They drill all these ideas into your head and expect you to follow orders without question. I'm not criticizing you, Crizz. They've got a great system, and it works on everyone. Most cadets graduate with their heads so well-tuned that they spend a lifetime in active service without questioning what they've been told. If you can fight that programing, Crizz, you'll be one in a million."

  "I'm -"

  "Fortunately ," he adds, "I think you probably are one in a million. It's okay, I am too. There aren't many of us, but we slip through the net now and again."

  I want to argue with him, but the truth is, I'm not sure what to do next. Technically, I should find a way to disarm both Tom and Sutter, and then I should return to the station and file an emergency report. Supreme Command would immediately send fighter vessels here to arrest them and transport them back to Mars, where they'd be put on trial and most likely executed for treason. Meanwhile, I'd most likely receive a commendation and a promotion, which would mean being put in charge of the station for the rest of my tour of duty.

  Still, there's a part of me that wants to hold back.

  "What are you waiting for?" he asks. "Shouldn't you have headed back to the lander by now? If you leave it too long, it might start to look as if you're conspiring with the enemy. Every second counts when you're dealing with a security breach."

  "How do I know you're not terrorists?" I ask.

  "We are terrorists," he replies matter-of-factly. "From the point of view of Supreme Command, at least. Anyone who disobeys an order or even entertain independent thoughts is usually written off as a terrorist by those fascists. There are billions of people starving on sanctioned worlds, people who are resorting to eating rock and dirt to stay alive... According to Supreme Command, those people are all terrorists, even the children. Not rebels or victims or freedom fighters. They're terrorists."

  I take a deep breath. What he's saying makes a kind of sense, even though it goes against everything I've ever been taught.

  "Terror's subjective," he adds. "The Romans probably thought of early Christians as terrorists. Hitler thought the same thing about Jews. Later, tyrants like Celeb de Montemelo and Lyra Dubissian used the same word to slander their enemies. It's an emotive word, and it can be twisted to mean anything you like. I'm just trying to get food and resources to innocent people who've been unfairly hurt by Supreme Command's actions. If that makes me a terrorist, then so be it. The word doesn't change the fact that I'm doing the right thing, and it sure as hell isn't going to make me stop."

  We stand in silence for a moment.

  "I have to report you," I reply eventually. "I can't reinterpret the rules whenever I choose."

  "Then do it."

  "I don't have a choice," I continue, trying to stay calm. "Please, try to understand. We're always taught that if we stop and weigh up the options ourselves, we're harming Supreme Command. If you're really doing what you say you're doing, then the judges will be lenient. They'll understand that your motives are pure and they'll acquit you. That's how the justice system works. You'll put forward your evidence, and an independent panel of judges will make a decision without any political influence."

  "Christ," he replies, "they really sowed their lies deep into your mind."

  "No-one -"

  "Maybe I'll call it in," he continues. "I'll inform on myself, and on Sutter. Don't worry, I'll clear your name completely. It'd be good for you to watch and see just how effectively the justice system really works." Heading over to a nearby terminal, he brings up a comm-link server.

  "What are you doing?" I ask.

  "Confessing," he replies, selecting the emergency relay link to Supreme Command. "I'll tell them everything. Billions of people will never get their supplies, but at least the nasty terrorists will have been thwarted. You won't have to worry about starving children being fed, or about medicine getting to the people who need it the most." He pauses for a moment as he types some details into the system. "There," he adds. "All ready to send." With his finger hovering over the button that'll transmit the message, he turns to me. "It's okay," he says with a faint smile. "Like you said, the system is fair and justice always prevails, so there's no reason for me to be afraid, is there? I guess there's nothing left to do other than to send the message and then wait for the cavalry to get here."

  "Wait," I say, "there's -"

  "If you don't stop me," he continues, "you'll be an accomplice. Do you realize that? You won't be an innocent bystander, and if Supreme Command ever finds out what's happening, you'll have to explain why you didn't do anything. Even if you lie your ass off and somehow persuade that them you didn't know, they'll still brand you as some kind of incompetent idiot. Whatever happens, you lose something."

  "If we question our orders all the time," I reply, "we'll end up living in chaos. We have to trust that -"

  "I know," he replies with scorn, "we have to trust that Supreme Command will both define and uphold the laws on our behalf. They were teaching us the exact same crap when I went through the academy ten years ago. There's only one problem. It's not true." Stepping back from the terminal, he keeps his eyes fixed on me. "It's up to you," he adds. "The message is written. All you have to do is send it. I wish there was another way, Crizz, but you've forced our hand. You have to decide whose side you're really on."

  Chapter Eight

  Sutter

  Slamming into the side of the platform, I instantly feel several of my ribs snap. I slump to the floor, but there's no time to react. Whatever's attacking me, it's already reached me again, and I feel something grab my legs and pull me back. I try to grab onto the railing, but after a moment the pain becomes too strong and I have no choice but to let go.

  "Stop!" I shout, desperately trying to kick at my attacker.

  Before I can say anything else, I sent tumbling off the edge of the platform. I fall for a couple of meters before hitting the rock-face, which sends me tumbling back out into the void. Slamming into the ladder that leads down to the bottom of the hatch, I instinctively reach out and manage to grab one of the rungs, and finally I come to a rest just half a meter or so above the very bottom of the array. If I let go now, I'll fall for miles. The good news, at least, is that I'd probably pass out before I hit anything too hard.

  Hearing an angry rattling sound above, I look up just in time to see that the top of the latter is being violently shaken. I try to climb to safety, but the entire ladder is being slammed repeatedly against the edge of the platform, as if something is trying to get it loose. I'm not sure how well built these things are, but I'm pretty damn sure that the ladder won't withstand too much of this punishment. With the pain in my ribs getting worse, I force myself to keep climbing, even though I have no idea how I'll defend myself if I get to the platform.

  "Please!" I shout. "Whatever you want, just tell me!"

  I don't expect a reply, but after a moment I hear the faintest grunt. I pause for a moment as I realize that there can no longer be any doubt: there's something up there, and whatever it is, it's definitely not Tom or Crizz. For a moment, it occurs to me that maybe someone stowed away on Tom's cargo ship, but finally I remember that I scanned the vessel as it passed the station and there was definitely only one life-form onboard. Whatever's trying to kill
me, it must have been on the planet all along.

  "Stop!" I shout. "You have to -"

  Before I can finish, the ladder gives way, tumbling down into the darkness and sending me crashing down into the depths.

  Part Six

  Secrets

  Chapter One

  Crizz

  "The history books would have you believe that the Nebulan Incident is a mystery," Tom says. "It's not. After the Nebulan cruiser went missing, Supreme Command sent a whole squadron of search and salvage vessels out there to look for the damn thing. There was a massive communications blackout during that period, to ensure that no unauthorized information was leaked. Really, it was during this period that Supreme Command took a much tighter hold on the media. Any news about the Nebulan, or rather lack of news, had to be approved by two separate bureaus within the hierarchy. The whole thing was managed to within an inch of its life."

  "Information has to be controlled," I point out. "It's one of the first things we learn at the academy."

  He smiles sadly.

  "It's true," I continue. "You can't allow people to panic..."

  "Or to think for themselves."

  "We learned about the Nebulan Incident at the academy," I tell him. "Different viewpoints were put forward in class and we were encouraged to debate the -"

  "Context is everything," he replies, interrupting me again.

  "At least we were allowed to finish our sentences," I point out. "You keep talking over me."

  "Fair point."

  "It wasn't brushed under the carpet," I continue. "We were told about all the different theories and allow to discuss them before our trainer explained the most likely scenario."

  "The Nebulan was an A-class cruiser," he replies. "There were three hundred people onboard, as well as significant cargo payloads for several of the outer worlds. It was passing the closest arm of the cluster when it sent its final update to a nearby base command point. After that, the Nebulan was never heard from again. Officially, anyway. Wild conspiracy theories are still doing the rounds today, all these years later. Some people think the Nebulan suffered a catastrophic systems failure and Supreme Command covered it up out of sheer embarrassment. Others believe the ship was attacked by one of Amanda Cole's gangs and commandeered for their use. There are even a few lunatics who believe aliens turned up and did something to the Nebulan and its crew." He pauses for a moment. "Which version of the story do you believe, Crizz?"

  "I'm not sure," I reply. "There's no official -"

  "But which version do you believe," he says again. "Think for yourself."

  "There was no debris," I point out. "If the ship had been destroyed, there'd have been debris, and it would have been easily detectable using even the most basic search technology. At the very least, the ion engines would have been found, or an explosion would have been recorded by one of the base command teams on Ridulan-5 or Tomawk-1. A ship like the Nebulan must have had five full-sized ion engines, and those things don't just disappear without leaving something behind."

  "Fair point," he replies. "If destruction of the ship is ruled out, what are we left with?"

  I can't help feeling that he's trying to steer me to some kind of realization.

  "Piracy doesn't make much sense," I say after a moment. "If Amanda Cole's people took the ship, why haven't they used it for anything?"

  "And what about the three hundred people onboard?" he asks.

  "Too many to feed and look after," I reply. "She'd have had them all killed."

  "Most of them were innocent civilians."

  "It wouldn't matter to her. She was ruthless."

  "For the sake of argument," he continues, "let's assume that she wasn't, and that she'd never have had so many people executed. I know that's hard to believe, since you and the rest of humanity have been brainwashed to believe that Amanda Cole was a murdering thug, but just go with me on this for a moment. Assume she wouldn't have had them killed. Does that dent the theory of her involvement?"

  "You couldn't hide three hundred people," I point out.

  "So the piracy idea goes out the window," he replies. "What's left?"

  I stare at him.

  "When you've discounted the impossible," he continues, "whatever's left, however improbable, must be the truth, no matter how much you want to fight it. So what's left?"

  "There's no way -"

  "What's left?"

  I pause.

  "Why would an alien race hide from us and then steal one of our cruisers?" I ask eventually. "The idea's so crazy, it doesn't even make sense."

  "Maybe they wanted to get a better look at us up close?" he replies. "Maybe they wanted to understand our technology, our biology..."

  "But aliens don't exist," I point out.

  "That we can prove so far."

  "If they were out there," I continue, "we'd have found them by now. Even if we hadn't met them face to face, we'd have found traces of their existence. Cities, outposts... We'd have spotted them on scanners, or we'd have detected vapors from their engines or fragments of their long-range communication systems. We'd have found something."

  "Unless they're hiding from us," he counters. "What if they've taken a look at us and decided we're bad news? In some ways, I wouldn't blame them. We've basically spent the past few hundred years spreading through the galaxy, stripping planets of any assets we find useful. We're bad neighbors, Crizz, and any alien civilization would be wise to treat us with extreme caution. I doubt Supreme Command would make a very good impression during any kind of first contact incident."

  "But you don't seriously think aliens stole the Nebulan, do you?" I ask, starting to worry for his sanity. "There are no aliens, or if they exist, they're so far away, we haven't come close to making contact with them yet."

  "And that satisfies you?" he replies. "The idea that the universe is so vast and empty? Don't you think it should be teeming with life? We should have at least found some sign that they exist by now."

  Looking over at the door, I can't help but wonder where Sutter is right now. He's not going to be happy when he gets up here and finds out what's been happening, and he's definitely not going to be happy when he finds out what I've done.

  "So are you ruling out the possibility of alien involvement?" Tom asks eventually.

  "I have to," I tell him. "Aliens aren't real."

  "Then what other explanations do we have for the disappearance of the Nebulan?"

  Pausing for a moment, I realize that I don't have anything.

  "What about a black flag attack?" he asks. "What if Supreme Command destroyed the Nebulan, lied about the debris field, and used the event as propaganda? They'd have every opportunity. After all, they control the primary channels by which information is disseminated. Nothing can reach the news channels unless it's passed directly through the interior ministry, so it wouldn't be too difficult to plant a few lies in the story."

  "But they haven't used it as propaganda," I remind him. "They've never officially linked it to the Amanda Cole case -"

  "They've left the possibility open, though," he says, interrupting me. "They're smart. They know that people talk about these things. Maybe they're letting everyone make up their own minds? You've got to admit, in terms of PR, it's not a bad approach. If they rammed the idea down our throats, it might not be believable, but doing it this way..." He pauses. "It wouldn't take too many people to cover something like that up. Just send a ship to deliver a few missiles, then a few more ships to clean up the mess, and then arrange for anyone involved to have a convenient accident over the next few years."

  "They wouldn't do that," I tell him. "They wouldn't murder three hundred people."

  "They're murdering billions of people right now," he replies, "all over the quadrant. Blockades, sanctions, rations... They're directly causing mass starvation on so many planets, it's impossible to keep count."

  "No -"

  "That's why I asked you about the Nebluan," he continues. "I wanted to know what you re
ally think about Supreme Command."

  "If anyone's starving," I reply, trying to stay calm, "it's their own fault for following leaders who oppose Supreme Command's policies." I pause for a moment, and for the first time I feel as if maybe my faith is being shaken. There's a voice in the back of my mind that has started to nag at me, to make me wonder if Supreme Command can be completely trusted. "Supreme Command cares about us," I add. "They only want to improve the position of the entire human race."

  "So why not sacrifice three hundred lives in order to make a point?" he asks. "All the other options have been ruled out, so this is what we're left with."

  I open my mouth to argue with him, but no words come out. The truth is, I'm starting to see that he might be right.

  "My ship was going to deliver much-needed aid to the people who are starving on those worlds," he continues. "Food and fuel that would have fed millions. There are people who look to the skies every day and pray that I'll arrive in time to save them from starving to death. They have nothing else. I was never going to be able to save everyone, Crizz, but I would have saved a hell of a lot of them. Women, children..." He pauses. "Not now, though. When I gave you the option of sending that message, informing Supreme Command of the operation I've been running, I guess I never truly believed you'd do it. Not when it came time to push the button."

  "I had to," I reply, with tears in my eyes. "Orders are orders."

  "Still, I never thought you'd actually do it. Even when you reached toward the screen, I thought you'd pull back at the last moment. I guess I was crazy, but I truly believed you'd make the right decision. I took a huge gamble on you, and I was wrong, and now a lot of people are going to die."

  I take a deep breath, trying to stay calm.

  "It'll take a couple of weeks for them to get anyone out here, and maybe a little longer before they intercept my ship. Sutter and I will be arrested and put on trial, and you'll get a commendation for ratting us out. I hope that makes you feel better, and I hope it helps you forget about all the people who are going to die now because of your actions. Supreme Command will be very grateful to you, Crizz. By helping them to enforce the blockade, you'll have effectively killed any hope that was nurtured by Amanda Cole."