by Trevor Wyatt
I heard it has something to do with KC’s great grandfather and mine contesting for the town chairmanship and my dad failing. It led to a revolt that in turn led to many deaths, mostly on KC’s family’s side, thus beginning a feud that lasted until this day.
“They are a pack of wolves!” my dad would always rant, even though he and KC’s father have had little or no physical altercation.
When I first heard it, I couldn’t believe it. You only heard about stuff like that in the holo-vids. It didn’t happen in reality.
But now, I have to think again, because my life was the very expression of that reality.
I don’t know why Kendra and I clicked the moment she returned with her aunt from New Sydney to come here and start her formal training in agriculture. She’d been taken away when we were only toddlers and have not come back for several years. She returned just before the war began six months ago. I remember when I first saw her, alighting from the shuttle that had brought her and a couple of new settlers down from the transport vessel. That was the happiest day of my life.
I hear a few scuffles behind me. I look over my shoulders to see many more people coming to gather around the camp fire. There are two more loose rows behind me. There are about a hundred of us at the camp fire, sitting on stones in the center of the town.
It’s the first day of the month of September, and as usual, we begin every first days with a campfire night.
It’s majorly for everyone below the age of twenty, including kids and young adults—and it’s compulsory. Not attending the camp fire night is tantamount to social suicide. It’s not however compulsory for adults, though some try to attend. Mostly the counsellors and teachers, even those in other settlements on the moon.
“Are we all in?” says the priest. He’s not an actual priest, since we on the moon do not practice any form of religion. We like to think of ourselves as free thinkers. Perhaps, our ancestors travelled a great distance from Earth, saw the vastness of space, and decided there was no God. They laid down those principles for us, which has guided our beliefs.
So, even though we call him a priest, he really isn’t. Nevertheless, we realize the functions of a priest, which is to guide and lead people to the light. And sometimes to remind us of our past that we may make the right decisions in our present for a better future. Because this man in the middle of the circle by the fire fulfils this role for us during the camp fire nights, we call him the priest.
His actual name is John…that’s it. No last name. John is a wizened old man in his late seventies. He has undergone several regenerative surgeries in his late sixties that put a few more decades in his body. He’s still old and aging, but his physiological systems are still quite intact. So, he’s not walking with a bend, like some of the old people in the town. He isn’t developing cataracts or glaucoma, like many of the oldies in the town.
He certainly has a strong voice that can reach to the very edges of the town from the center of the town on a silent sunny afternoon. It is even rumored that he is still quite sexually active, although I can’t tell that that’s true.
It’s pretty difficult to reconcile a priest (even though he really isn’t one) with sex—priests are supposed to be undefiled by the vain pleasures of this world. Priests are supposed to refrain from eating a lot and stay indoors seeking transcendence or higher truth or knowledge or whatever it is they seek.
Anyways he’s not one, so whatever.
John is standing ramrod straight, his face and hair adorned with silver hair. They are long and are stretching down to his shoulders, parallel to the general downward drawl of his facial skin. Unfortunately, John didn’t have enough money to pay for a facial reconstruction surgery to revive the youth in his face.
There is a tiny gnat beneath his left eye, which many of us think is some sort of tech that allows him to see very far. Oh, and John has the best sight in all of the moon. The man can see in clear details for hundreds and hundreds of yards, so long as there’s no obstruction. When asked, he always attributes it to the reconstructive surgery he did on his eyes, but everyone knows reconstructive surgeries don’t give you super abilities—enhancements do.
Some of us believe that he was some sort of spy for the Armada Intelligence, especially during the Schism. We know he fought in the war, we just don’t know in what capacity he fought. And his wartime experiences are something he never ever talks about.
There are still some people coming in from all directions. I take another look around. We must be over two hundred now.
It’s going to be a long night.
“Are we all in?” John asks again, his voice strong and subduing every murmured and hushed whispers around.
The giant flames dance in the smooth breeze that washes across us under the starry night. Other moons are in the sky, flooding us with a strong moonlight.
“Yes, John,” replies a young woman from behind me. At that point, I hear commotion to my right. I look down my row to see Peter making his way towards me, causing everyone to complain.
He gets to me and I shift a little so he can squeeze himself in. Instead, he just flops himself into the tiny space, jarring me a little on my side. I guess the other guy feels the pain because he curses a little and jerks Peter in the side.
Peter is about to punch the guy in the face, when I stop him. Peter glances at me, a wicked glare still on his face.
“Don’t do it,” I whisper to him.
The other guy is already in a defensive post, his hands made into fists and raised above his face to fight. It’s Brad, and he is one of us. By us I mean one of the cool guys in this settlement.
“Sorry, Brad,” I whisper to the guy. “Peter is sorry, too,”
“No, I’m not,” Peter says almost immediately. Then he adds in an icy tone, “And don’t think I’ll forget this.”
“Whatever dude,” Brad says and relaxes back in his sit.
When I feel the tension let loose in Peter’s arm, I let him go.
I look up at John to check if he’d caught the commotion.
John is looking at us trio, his eyes squinted in suspicion. Fighting is not uncommon in camp fire meetings, because every teenager is here. And when every teenager with raging hormones gather, things are bound to happen.
Tension is usually high—including romantic tension.
The tension between me and Kendra is so high that I wonder if people can sense it off of us. Sometimes I get scared when Kendra and I are close together and Kendra’s father walks by. Of course, I’ll have to dodge the man’s look or make it look like I don’t know who Kendra really is. Still, the tension can be so strong I wonder if he can sense it.
“Why are you late?” I ask Peter.
Then I notice someone settling in beside Kendra. She’s a pretty black girl with a brown blouse and dark jean pants. Her glossy lips radiate in the firelight as does the tiny little necklace on her chest, which sits against a balmy, sweaty chest.
Peter chuckles beside me. I glance back at him just in time to see him and Tiffany share a look that’s more than just friendly.
“You didn’t…” I whisper at Peter.
Peter is distracted by Tiffany and only replies me with an indiscernible mumble.
I grab his jacket and shake him until I have his full attention. Peter is huge for his age. Like me, he’s eighteen…heck, we are all eighteen. Kendra, Brad, Peter, Tiffany and I are host of other seniors. It’s like our parents decided to give birth to us at the same time. Peter, however, looks like a professional quarterback with his incredible upper build.
He’s got a lot of muscles for a guy his age, and he’s easily the strongest of us. Brad comes pretty close since Brad grew up with his dad in the Terran Armada Academy and learned one or two tricks. Brad’s dad is a First Officer aboard a war ship that’s off fighting the BFs. This is one reason Brad’s been touchy lately. He worries about his father.
Most times when I look at Brad and his mother, I thank my luck that my dad hadn’t follo
wed through with his plans to join the Armada and become a sailor. I’ll probably be having a wistful look on my face now, waiting by the slipstream terminal for a call from the Armada telling me how brave my father was or how he sacrificed his life for me and all that rubbish.
I’d rather someone else sacrificed their life for me and my dad.
A lot of our soldiers are dying out in the stars so much so that nobody sleeps comfortably at night any more. A lot of the folks on this moon have people that are currently in the border being eaten for dinner by the BFs.
We call them BFs, which stands for Blue Freaks. Because that is who they are, freaks. Freaks of the universe. Freaks of nature.
I come to, when I see that I have Peter’s attention. I drag him closer to my face and sniff his jacket. I perceive the distinctive smell of perfumery. It’s jasmine, Tiffany’s perfume.
I almost choke in disgust as I imagine what Peter and Tiffany had been up to. They came in almost at the same time. He has Tiffany’s perfume all over him. It’s obvious what the two of them did. And thinking of that and the place I told Peter about earlier this morning, I just knew he betrayed my trust. Blasted Peter!
“I told you that place in confidence, man,” I say letting go of his jacket.
“What do you mean, Jake,” he replies. “It’s not what you think.”
I sneak one more glance at Tiffany. She’s now in an impassioned conversation with Kendra, probably telling Kendra how deep Peter went and how he made her cum and all that stuff. Probably putting ideas in Kendra’s mind and thereby putting pressure on me to measure up, at least, to Peter.
How could I measure up to someone that’s several times bigger than I am?
I am frowning at Peter amidst the steady buzz of chatter around.
“Seriously, Jake,” Peter says, focusing his attention on me.
“Man, I know you went to our special spot and took Tiffany with you,” I say. “I can smell her on you and I know you don’t think of the consequences of your actions before you take them.”
Peter’s smile vanishes, and I know I’ve struck a chord. “Ouch, bro, you don’t have to be so harsh. It’s just a spot in the woods. I’m sure there are many other spots.”
His reply should infuriate me, but I am used to his insensitivity by now.
“It took me days to find that special spot, Pete,” I reply. “You know how Kendra and I decided to wait ‘til we were eighteen before we...you know…”
“Had sex?” Peter helps, with an arched eyebrow.
I feel my cheek burn so hot. I never knew it’ll be this embarrassing. I told Peter about the special spot I picked in the woods in the event that he would spur me and encourage me. I certainly didn’t tell him so he and Tiffany would go there for a romp in the hay. I’m almost sickened to my tummy.
“I don’t get why you can’t still go there,” Peter says. He’s whispering now because everyone is falling quiet as the seconds roll by.
“I can’t!” I say, my voice a little tense with exasperation. “This is the night we both lose our virginity. It has to be perfect. If we go to the same spot, we’ll just be smelling you and Tiffany all over the place.”
Peter smiles. “Not really. I told Tiffany it was your special spot after we had sex and she insisted we cleaned up the place.”
“You clean up the woods?” I ask, incredulous.
“Well, not exactly the entire woods,” he replies. “Just the place we used. I promise you won’t notice a thing. There’s nothing lying around to suggest that we were there.”
I frown and look away from him.
John is silent. He is sitting on a high stone with a flat surface so all of us can see him. He is in a meditative pose, so I know the meeting will begin in a couple of minutes.
We’re already close to silent, though there are still a few quiet whispers scattered around the gathering.
“It’s not going to be the same,” I reply without looking at Peter. “Even if Kendra doesn’t know, I do. And all I’ll be thinking about is you and Tiffany and god knows what you did.”
Peter chuckles. “I can assure you, we did a lot.”
I mildly jam my ankle in his side. “It’s not funny.”
Peter throws his right arm around my neck and pulls me in. “Hey, there’s a lot of other places you guys can go. You can head to the waterfalls. It’s going to be beautiful. You guys can have all the fun you want there.”
“It’s way too far from town.”
“All the more reason you should go,” Peter replies. “It’ll be fun. The two of you, walking through the woods, hand in hand.”
I almost smile. It does sound like a good idea. Kendra had mentioned it earlier, how she would like to spend some time at the waterfall. Her parents rarely allowed her out of the house. This night is going to be one of the nights she’ll be free to do what she likes, majorly because her parents would me meeting with delegates from other settlements in the town hall all night.
I guess I could kill two beds with one stone. We could have our special night right where she’s always dreamed of spending some time with me.
“I guess we can go to the waterfall,” I say, grudgingly accepting.
“See?” Peter says. “Told you it’s okay.”
I growl. Peter has this notion that it doesn’t matter what he does that it would always turn out great. He is the kind of guy that pretty much does whatever he wants and still ends up on the right side. It is annoying sometimes, especially when I’m trying to get him to do the right things the right way.
“The means don’t always justify the end, Peter,” I say.
“Whatever rocks your boat, Jake,” he replies. “I say live life to the fullest. You don’t know when the BFs are going to appear at the edge of your star system and come knocking for you.”
“You don’t really think they’ll stray this far, do you?” someone asks from behind us.
Peter and I turn at the same time to see who has been eavesdropping on our conversation. It’s Anthony, the lanky and nosy fellow occupying the sit directly behind me.
I scowl at him, but Peter indulges him.
“Why wouldn’t they?” Peter says.
“Why would they?” I ask, now genuinely interested. The Cold Moons of Latrellia aren’t exactly border settlements. We are well within Terran Union space. Even though we don’t have any Armada vessel protecting our system or a space station within running or protective distance, we don’t need it. The war thus far has been localized at the border. Hence, I’ve never really thought of the war as more than a distant occurrence.”
“Because their ships are ten times bigger than ours,” Peter replies with an awed expression upon his face. “And I heard that it takes at least three of our ships to bring down one of theirs and that’s not even talking about their dreadnoughts.
“It is said that when the dreadnoughts appear, death and destruction is imminent and inevitable.”
I am now trying to maintain my composure. Fear is having a field day with my mind. I am also finding it difficult to reconcile the picture of the war being painted by Peter and the one the President paints when he gives us a brief of the war effort every Saturday evening.
“President Harmon says differently,” I reply, trying not to sound terrified. “He wouldn’t lie to the whole Terran Union now, would he?”
Peter doesn’t reply. He only looks at me as though I am naive.
“He wouldn’t would he?” I press.
“Of course, he would,” someone replies.
I look over Peter to Brad who has joined our conversation.
Peter nods solemnly.
I swallow hard. “Why would he lie to us?”
“Because the cost of this war in the past six months have been catastrophic,” Brad says. “I know because I talk with my dad almost every day. If it’s not a slipstream transmission, it’s a message. But we find time to communicate every day.”
“Hey, Brad, isn’t your father working aboard a ground troop t
ransport?” Anthony asks.
Brad shakes his head. “He was, before the war. But when the war started, he was posted to Armada Intelligence because of his unique skillset. Don’t ask. He wouldn’t tell me what those are, just don’t ask.”
I am struck with awe.
“It’s bad out there,” Brad continues in his low tone. I realize that everyone around is looking at us, listening quite intently.
“Almost every day that passes by the border is receding,” Brad continues. “The Sonali have a far superior military, with far superior weapons and equipment, and far superior starships. My dad says we never should have gone to war with them.”
“Your father doesn’t know what he’s saying,” says a tall, plump girl in the row in front of us. “The war is not a luxury. It’s a necessity. It was either bow to the Sonali or stand our ground. If your dad thought it was a fool’s errand to do to war, then your dad is a coward.”
I freeze in my chair, hearing Brad’s breathing increase. He must be burning with rage now as I observe the sneer he’s flashing the girl.
“Just because your dad is dead doesn’t make him a hero, Tasha,” Brad spits.
“You son of a bitch,” Tasha says. She tries to rise up, but her friends are pulling her down. They tell her to be calm.
Peter says, “It doesn’t matter whether we should have gone to war or not. What matters is that we are at war and we are sucking at it.”
“Well, we are a defenseless colony,” I say, trying to console myself. “There are rules in warfare. I am sure the Sonali, since they are an advanced race, being space capable and all, would refrain from unnecessary destruction and carnage. I’m sure they’ll leave us alone.”
I wait for some support, but it doesn’t come, which surprises me.
“If you really believe that, Jake, then you are more foolish than I imagined,” Brad replies.
No wonder he doesn’t have any friends.
“What’s he talking about?” I ask Peter.
Everyone draws in closer to hear Peter talk. Peter hesitates at first. He’s looking across the fire. I follow his gaze. Tiffany and Kendra and the entire section on the other side are all looking at us. The priest, too, is looking at us.