Children No More-ARC

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Children No More-ARC Page 15

by Mark L. Van Name


  I nodded at them, pushed off, and stood.

  I reached out to Alex.

  After a brief hesitation, he grabbed my hand.

  I lifted him off Han and helped him stand. I did the same with Han. "Good try," I said.

  They both nodded in acknowledgment. After a few seconds, Han said, his voice still not quite right, "We didn't have a chance."

  I nodded again and turned to look up the beach, where Benny had been resting. He had rolled down the path and was almost at the sand. Bob stood beside him.

  "Good job, Jon," Benny said. "That's enough for today."

  I shook my head and started running again. As I passed him, I forced my voice to sound as normal as possible as I said, "No. I owe another two laps."

  I didn't look back as I ran away from them. My lungs hurt from trying to get enough air while I'd been fighting. A sour taste filled my mouth, and I wished I could rinse it and get a drink. My whole body trembled, and, as the rush of violence wore off, part of me regretted scaring Alex and Han. I wanted desperately to stop, to rest, to be done with this.

  I didn't.

  I wouldn't let those feelings win. I wouldn't let Han and Alex win. I wouldn't let Benny win. I wouldn't let the weaknesses in my body or my mind win.

  I wouldn't let anything or anyone beat me.

  I wouldn't.

  I ran on.

  Chapter 29

  In the former rebel complex, planet Tumani

  "How long before Maggie's ship lands?" I asked Lobo.

  "Maybe five minutes," he said. "She contacted me and asked to meet you. She said you could pick the location. I mean no offense to her, but for your safety, I suggest you tell her to come inside me."

  Part of me wanted to leave Tumani immediately, but another part was glad Maggie had asked to see me. At the same time, past experience had taught me that she would lie to me and use me if she thought doing so would serve her cause.

  Of course, I'd done the same to her in the course of saving the boy who now lived with her and the other Children of Pinkelponker.

  "I agree," I said. "Tell her."

  She wouldn't touch down for a few more minutes, so rather than head straight to Lobo and wait there, I let my feet carry me to the corner of the complex where we'd entered less than twelve hours ago. Half a dozen people and a couple of low-end building machines were replacing the damaged section of the wall with a mixture of wood from the fallen trees and reinforced permacrete. Others carted debris and carefully removed the sections of the trunks closest to the complex; we didn't want anyone else attacking us the same way. Two men guarded the entrance. They were trying and failing to appear nonchalant while keeping their hands on their weapons.

  No boys walked near them. None appeared to be watching them, but everyone understood what was going on. I'd seen it before, prisoners and guards, and no matter how nice the prison, no one in either group is ever confused about what role he or she is playing.

  The guards watched me without moving their heads, knowing from the uniform I was still wearing whose side I was on but wondering why I was there. I nodded and mumbled, "Just curious." They nodded in return, no more trusting now that I'd spoken to them than they'd been before I opened my mouth.

  The temperature and humidity continued to rise. My clothing couldn't wick fast enough; I stayed constantly soaked in my own sweat. The dust from the permacrete hung in the air and made my eyes itch.

  I turned and headed back into the complex, toward the first barracks we'd entered. The short boy, Bony, leaned against the wall facing me. He was whispering to a thin kid with skin the color of wet brown sand. This boy was probably not much older than Bony, but he stood a full head taller. They quit talking as I approached and watched me.

  "There's a big man," Bony said, "as long as he has others to do his work."

  I stopped and stared at them. If they were adults, I'd move on and avoid trouble. If they wouldn't let me, I'd stop them before they could start anything serious. These two were children, though, boys that Lim and Gustafson and Schmidt and all the others wanted to reintegrate into society. I didn't know what to do with them.

  "Afraid of us, he is," Bony said. "Two on one too much for him, eh, Nagy?"

  "Too much," the other boy said.

  "No worries, you," Bony said. "We heard them say you were leaving, so killing you isn't worth our time." He cocked his head toward the other boy. "Not that me and Nagy couldn't do it if we wanted."

  "Sure could, Bony," Nagy said, "sure could."

  "Like a lot of others," Bony said, pride filling his voice and making it stronger.

  Nagy only nodded and tracked me with his eyes.

  "Show 'im," Bony said.

  Nagy turned his right shoulder toward me and pointed at it. A stack of at least a dozen thin scabs ran from the top of his arm down for several centimeters. "These are my solo kills," he said, his voice clear and loud. "I don't count shares." He pointed at the top one. "Started high so there's plenty of room." He faced me again.

  Bony clapped him on the other shoulder and smiled.

  Nagy never looked away from me.

  When all you have is each other and the fight, you grow tight, or you die. They understood that fact. I'd learned it. I could try to explain to them what the lesson would cost them, but to what end? They couldn't unlearn it.

  Maybe that was part of what Lim and her team would try to help.

  "Maggie's here," Lobo said over the comm.

  I raised both hands and said to the boys the only thing that seemed sure and true to me at that moment. "I'm sorry."

  Before they could respond, I headed back to Lobo.

  Maggie leaned against Lobo and watched me approach. I couldn't read her expression. I also couldn't shake the sick, sad feeling that my encounter with Bony and Nagy had brought to my stomach. I hated that I couldn't do anything for them.

  Lobo opened a side hatch when I was within a meter of his hull. I stepped inside and headed up front.

  Maggie followed me, and Lobo sealed himself behind her.

  I walked to the far corner of the pilot area and wished I could keep walking. My body vibrated with energy. I finally turned to face her. "What?" I said. I hadn't even realized I was angry until I heard my own voice.

  "I wanted to thank you," Maggie said. I could read her look well enough now: hurt, sad, maybe pitying. "Why are you always so mad?"

  The still air inside Lobo clung to me like dirt to a buried corpse. I wanted out, away from here, but I couldn't leave, not with her standing right in front of me, not with the question she'd asked hanging between us. Before I could consider my answer, without meaning to say anything, I found myself speaking. "I know you came here to pick up one boy, but by any chance have you looked around? Have you paid any attention at all?"

  "Yes," she said. "It's terrible, but why does the situation make you mad at me?"

  "I'm not." As soon as the words came out, I knew my tone said otherwise. I took two deep breaths and stared into her eyes. "I'm really not. I know it sounds like I am, but I'm not angry at you. I'm just frustrated and furious at . . . I don't know, at this place, at what those people did to these kids, at everything."

  "I can't blame you this time," she said, "but you are so often full of rage, and I don't understand why. I'm sorry you are, I really am, and I want to know. I do. Why are you always so angry?"

  I shrugged. How could I explain it to her? If she could truly comprehend the answer, if somehow the barrier that stopped her from being able to read me were to crumble in an instant and she could hold me and utterly and completely know my mind, would I even want her to understand? Would the value of that knowledge be worth the damage it would do to her?

  "It's a long story," I finally said. I shrugged again. "Don't worry about it."

  She looked at me for several seconds before nodding. "Okay." After a few more seconds, she added, "If that's what you want, okay."

  I couldn't decide if I was grateful or sad that she'd stopped p
ushing. Why did I end up so twisted inside whenever I spent time with her? Why were my feelings so complicated around her?

  None of that mattered. She was going to leave, so the best thing I could do for both of us was to simplify everything by helping her on her way.

  I shoved aside the useless feelings and forced a smile. "Did you find the boy you wanted?"

  She smiled in return, but I didn't believe hers was any more genuine than mine. "Yes," she said with a nod, "we did. He's safely on board my ship, and we're about to leave Tumani."

  "Good," I said. "I'm glad you did." I pictured Bony and Nagy again. "He's going to need a lot of help. You know that, right?"

  She nodded again. "Yes, we do, and we'll work with him for as long as it takes. He'll be safe now, and he'll have a family of people like him."

  "It won't be his family," I said. "His family is gone. And you won't be like him. You'll all have special abilities, but he'll be the only one of you who understands what he's become." I couldn't figure out an easy way to explain further what it felt like to be the one person in a crowd who'd killed before, the only man in a room full of people who couldn't help but consider killing as an option, an alien of human birth trying to pass as human. "Remember that."

  "We will, Jon. We will. Our group we won't be his family, not at first, but in time it will feel like his own." She paused and stared into space, as if looking at a place very far away. "I know how it works." She shook her head and focused on me again. "In any case, it's the best we can do. We won't give up."

  It was my turn to nod. I didn't know what more to say.

  Maggie stepped close enough to put her hand on my face, her palm cool against my cheek. I flushed and had trouble breathing. "Thank you, Jon," she looked upward, "and thank you, Lobo. I don't know if they would have succeeded without you."

  "You're welcome, Maggie," Lobo said, his voice coming from all around us.

  She smiled and focused again on me, her hand still on my cheek. I was afraid to move, sure that no matter what direction I might go, no matter what I might do, it would be wrong.

  "One of the things I love about you, Jon, is how much you want to protect children. I hope you succeed with these kids. I've thought about what you said, and though we have to take away our boy, if to help the others you ever need anything we can give—anything I can give—contact me, and I'll do my best to make it happen." She stepped back and looked up again. "Lobo, what I'm about to send you will transmit only once, and then it'll overwrite itself. Are you ready to receive?"

  "Of course," Lobo said. "I record every transmission of any type that occurs within me."

  "Why did I even ask?" she said with a genuine smile. "Of course you do." She pulled a small metal square from her right front pants pocket and held it between her thumb and forefinger. "Jon, I've given Lobo multiple drop-box addresses for every world within three jumps of here. You can use any one of them once. It'll ask you for some verification information, data you'll have from our past time together. Once it authenticates you, it will start a process that will ultimately reach me. It will then turn itself off and transmit shut-off instructions to the other comm threads. It won't work fast—too many worlds to contact—but if you give it a week, it should reach me."

  "That's very nice," I said, and I meant it, I tried to keep all the sarcasm out of my voice, "but what could I need that you could give?" I realized how that sounded but not before her expression betrayed the hurt. "I mean, I'm leaving here right after you do."

  She shook her head. "I don't need to be able to read your thoughts to understand you better than that." She stared at me for a long time, long enough that I was sure I was supposed to be doing something, though I had no idea what. She leaned forward and kissed me on the left cheek. "Goodbye, Jon."

  She turned and left.

  I watched her walk away, the second time I'd done that, but this time it took only a few steps for her to reach the edge of Lobo, turn down the hall, and disappear. I heard the side hatch open and her voice saying, "Goodbye, Lobo." A couple of seconds later, the hatch closed.

  I closed my eyes and stood in silence. First, Bony and Nagy, then Maggie—both encounters I was unprepared to handle. The two boys had left me sick with the knowledge of what they would always be fighting even if they managed to find new homes and survive to adulthood. Maggie had left me with an ability to contact her that I knew I would never use because there was no way we could ever be together.

  I stood there, frozen in place, useless, unable to help those boys or join Maggie, and the seconds passed until Lobo interrupted my thoughts.

  "Jon," he said, "isn't it time to leave?"

  CHAPTER 30

  Dump Island, planet Pinkelponker - 139 years earlier

  The cool night air tasted of the salty, tossing ocean. The patch of grass where I'd stretched out felt as soft as any bed I'd had while growing up. Everyone else slept in the cave, spread around the large room's perimeter, their bodies casting constantly shifting shadows from the small fire burning inside and to the right of the entrance. When I'd first arrived on Dump, I'd stayed with them, but lately I'd found it more comfortable to sleep under the stars. Staring into the heavens and listening to the ocean took me out of myself and pulled my mind upward, to whatever was out there, way past the only two islands I'd ever seen, beyond even the entire planet of Pinkelponker. I'd never know, but after Jennie had told me that spaceships existed and that one had carried people from a place called Earth all the way to here, I had always stared upward in awe and dreamed of other worlds.

  Benny couldn't sneak up on anyone; the sound of his cart's wheels always preceded him. I turned my head enough to make sure no one was with him and he had no weapons. I'd learned the hard way that his drills could come at any time.

  "Beautiful, isn't it?" he said when he drew even with me.

  "Yes." I whispered, not wanting to disturb the night.

  The wind off the ocean picked up speed and rustled all the grass we were not covering. The waves beat louder upon the shore, their steady rhythm the heartbeat of a sleeping world. I tried to slow my heart to the same gentle pace, but I couldn't do it. When I felt closest to the world, I thought of Jennie, because she had taught me to see the beauty around us, always available if we will but let ourselves experience it. My pulse quickened as the memory of losing her flooded into me. I couldn't think of her without feeling that pain. I knew she'd be disappointed in me, would want me to focus on all the good years we'd shared, but I couldn't do it.

  When I'd come to Dump, these memories had left me in tears. Now, my face remained stony, cold. Though at times I thought my heart might explode, I didn't show it.

  "Jon."

  I didn't want to talk, but ignoring Benny was never an option; he wouldn't give up.

  "Yeah."

  "Jon."

  His tone told me what his few words didn't: He wouldn't stop until I faced him. I rolled onto my side, propped my head on my elbow, and stared at him, our faces now level.

  When I didn't speak, he continued. "It's important that you understand something." He stared at me, clearly wanting a response, but I didn't know why. He'd finish talking eventually; he didn't need me to say anything. Finally, he said, "I'm sorry."

  "For what?"

  He waved his left flipper to take in the sky and the grass and the night. "For everything. For the hard sessions, the sneak attacks, the yelling and the fighting, all of it. For what I've made you become."

  "I agreed to do it."

  His dark brown eyes, almost black in the night, reflected the starlight like small puddles, their wet surfaces pooling over and running down his cheek. "Maybe, but you should never have been put in this position." He wiped his cheeks. "I should never have put you in it."

  "But you did." My voice emerged cooler than the deepening night. I barely recognized its sound.

  "Are you that far gone already?" he said. He stared intently at me. "Or that angry? Surely you can find more than that inside you."
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  I sat. "No," I said. I shook my head, a kind of panic rising inside me, pounding like the onrushing waves. "No." I wanted to stop talking, but I couldn't. The words wouldn't stop. I didn't know what they would be until I heard them. "You can't have this. Not this. I'll get us off Dump. I'll become as strong and as tough and as skilled as it takes. I'll save us all or die trying, and you'll train me until I can. That's our deal. That's what we do every day. That's what we'll keep doing. But now you want me to open up to you, to talk about my feelings, to pretend I'm still that kid you met here." I stood. "No. No!" I spread my arms and threw back my head. "No!" I stared at him again and shook with anger. "The next time the ship lands and the guards get out to unload some new poor prisoner, I will lead our fight against them, and we will beat them. I will get us off this island."

  I closed my eyes for a few seconds. When I opened them again, my voice was once more cold and calm and level. "That's what you trained me to do. That's what you want me to do. That's what all of you need me to do."

  I turned and walked away. "That's what you get," I said.

  I neither knew nor cared whether the wind carried my words to him or away into the night.

  Chapter 31

  In the former rebel complex, planet Tumani

  "Jon," Lobo said, "did you not hear me earlier? Isn't it time to leave?"

  It was. We'd done everything we'd come to do. Lim and Gustafson and Schmidt and the rest of their team were settling in to help the boys. Maggie was gone. It was time to go.

  "Yeah," I said, "it is."

  I didn't move. I didn't open my eyes. If I did nothing, I couldn't do the wrong thing.

  "So I should take off," Lobo said, "except that if that was what you wanted, you would have said so." After a pause of several seconds, an interval so great I could probably never understand all that he had done in that time with his vast computational resources, he said, "Which means we're not leaving."

 

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