“Good,” Quinn nodded. “Tomorrow you’ll start with the power crews.”
Stringing poles and power lines for the eventual city. That should be far enough away.
“Fine,” Darius agreed. Quinn left him a moment later, and after a few minutes to calm himself, Darius turned his attention to his original task of unloading the hundreds of canvas tents borne deep in the ship’s belly.
Capt Haruka Kimura
USAF
25 March, Year of Landing, midday
Camp Eight
A well worn line on the dirt floor of the Palm Palace marked the strip along which Haruka paced back and forth. Her legs throbbed and her feet complained with every step she took. Nearly an hour had passed since she first began her nervous compulsion. Colonists cycled in and out of the palace, filling the air with the buzz of life. She ignored them all, lost in her own problems.
Damn it, I know I can still be there for her. She doesn’t have to shut me out.
Maria Serrano had made it clear that she was still upset at Haruka. She had tried to apologize, but Maria would have nothing of it. Their argument had picked open a festering wound between the two women.
Damn Leight. She’s right. He should have caught Carney by now. The fact that the little bastard is still running around isn’t helping anyone, and it’s driving Maria mad.
Haruka had considered it a victory when Leight had officially handed over the duty of tending to his group of survivors. His claim was that he couldn’t effectively manage them while pursing Carney, though after the fact she realized that it wasn’t worth the struggle—either with her or the survivors—and that relinquishing his flock to the unified command of Haruka would ease everyone’s burdens.
So why hasn’t it all gone smoothly?
She spun around and shuffled in the opposite direction, glancing up briefly at Charlotte as she released her class for lunch. Stares from the children fell upon her, followed by whispers. Their eyes seemed to judge her, but she shook her head and continued on. The cuffs of her flight suit chafed on her purple-blotched wrist, so she rolled them up. There was a noticeable lull in the whispers and mutters in the gathering hall. Her eyes came up and caught those of Karina, a fifteen year old survivor of pod ten. Karina’s eyes grew wide and she quickly averted her stare.
Haruka sighed. Maybe it’s just me. Maybe everyone just thinks that I’m a monster. I know my disease isn’t pretty, but it doesn’t change a thing about me. I’m here to lead them, to protect them.
Even still, the walls seemed to close in on her, and the urge to find something to occupy her time overwhelmed her. The farther away from the rest of the village the better, as far as she was concerned. The storm curtain made an unmistakable scratching sound as she pulled it back, and her eyes took a moment to adjust to the high noon sun.
With the children pouring out of the palace, the open town square was humming with activity. Parents and caretakers portioned out meals of grilled fish, pepperines, and greens from the banks of the river. Haruka turned away from this spark of vitality, choosing instead the path down the hill. Her grumbling stomach stopped her after only a few hundred feet, and she turned back to collect a small lunch, mentally berating herself for skipping breakfast earlier.
She picked a spot along the wall of the palace where the short overhang of the roof cast a miniscule shadow, then sat with her back to the wall, partially to maximize the shadow’s coverage of her body, and partially to give her tense muscles a chance to relax. She closed her eyes as she chewed the first bite of her fish.
So many things have gone wrong. So many things can still go wrong. Luis. Maria. Carney. Leight. Even James has been rattled lately. If I can’t get this under control, how can I even think about keeping the whole village under control?
“No napping,” James chirped, forcing her alert.
He slid his rear down the wall, taking a seat next to her, a dented metal plate heaped with food balanced precariously on his left hand.
“Not napping,” she retorted.
“Not eating either, apparently.”
Haruka speared some greens from her plate, deliberately drawing them slowly to her mouth as she returned a caustic glare as she chewed.
“Bad day?” he asked, his tone flat, unreactive.
“No one’s died today. Must be a good day.”
“Setting the bar as high as ever, I see.” He paused for a moment as Haruka took another bite. “So what is it this time?”
“Maria.” She barely had time to let the name escape her lips before sinking her teeth into her pepperine, as if casual conversation and a piece of fruit could stop James from interrogating her.
“What this time?”
“Oh, the usual. Carney’s a son of a bitch. I’m an incompetent bitch. You’re all incompetent idiots. Oh, and apparently telling her not to yell at Gabi for no reason is a bad thing, too.”
James groaned and set his plate on the ground next to him, then pinched the bridge of his nose. “What did you do?”
“Huh?” She was caught off guard, and it took a moment for her to relay the scene from earlier in the day to the level of detail that he required. He looked at her intently as she retold the morning’s incident. A few more moment passed, and the corners of his mouth twitched upward, and then he burst out laughing. “What? It’s not funny!”
“No, it’s not. That’s why I’m laughing.”
“Have you gone off the deep end?” she growled.
James wiped the corners of his eyes as he regained control. “No. It’s just that in the middle of fighting with her you go and push the one button that every parent has. You might have pissed her off less if you had just smacked her.”
“Don’t tempt me. No matter what I do I can’t get through to her, and it’s frustrating the hell out of me.”
“Just let it go. She’ll come around.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Haruka muttered under her breath.
She finished eating her pepperine and picked at her fish, though the latter she barely ate as it cooled and her appetite waned. Instead she took a few minutes to watch the spectacle of the communal lunch, something that she had taken for granted. She realized in that moment that a few people from amongst the survivors took it upon themselves, with no commands or intervention, to prepare meals for everyone and make sure that the villagers were fed. They came from all walks of life.
Among them, Haruka recognized Mike Tran, who was a recent high school graduate who came to Demeter with his family. He worked alongside his mother, who had held various odd jobs on Earth to support her children. Even Charlotte lent a hand organizing the school children during their lunch breaks. There was also an ebb and flow to this caretaking position, with a half dozen or more other villagers who would work the lines two, three, or four days a week, volunteering when there was a lull in their assigned work.
Something seemed out of place to Haruka. She checked her surroundings to confirm her suspicions, and it took a minute for her to figure it out. In line, waiting for food, was a scraggly youth, dressed in tattered blue jeans and a long leather jacket that covered his sweaty, grimy tank top. His forehead seemed drenched in sweat, yet Haruka couldn’t figure out why he didn’t remove his coat.
She rose up and walked toward him. Instinct told her to go for her weapon; she unsnapped the catch on her holster and firmly placed her hand on the grip of the nine-millimeter pistol at her side.
“Captain?” James asked quizzically, scrambling to his feet.
“Hey,” she shouted at the young man. He didn’t react, so she doubled her pace. “Hey, you!”
As she was nearly on top of him, he wheeled around and reached behind him, into the concealment that the thick jacket provided. Time seemed to slow, and Haruka saw the wild fire burning within the youngster’s eyes. His beard was patchy and thin in places, but a birthmark on the man’s neck made Haruka’s heart stop cold, and for a split second she felt panic and fear burst forth, and her hand fell aw
ay from her M9.
Shit, it’s him!
Lon Carney’s arm clutched at a weapon behind him. Haruka lunged forward just in time to keep him from bringing Luis’s stolen M4 carbine to bear; its stock had been removed, allowing Carney to hide it in the bulky clothing. Though she was able to prevent him from aiming the weapon, her grip on his forearm did not keep him from discharging it. Three loud booms erupted from the rifle, and in unison the villagers screamed and bolted, scrambling for any cover they could find.
Carney brought up his left elbow, catching Haruka in the ear. Her head was ringing, and she reeled from the blow, losing her grip on Carney’s arm. He then planted a solid kick to the small of her back, sending her sprawling face first onto the ground. She knew she was defenseless against the murderer. At first she shouted a denial in her mind, as if that would stop him from killing her in cold blood. Her next thought was whether or not she would hear the fatal round being fired.
Three more cracks burst forth. More screams ensued. Haruka didn’t feel a thing. She was aware she was alive, because she could still hear the terror expressed by the children, as well as a muttered, desperate prayer coming from Charlotte. She bolted to her feet and wheeled around.
Carney and James were locked in a deadly dance, each man with his hands around the other’s neck, squeezing. Carney’s rifle had been knocked aside, presumably by Haruka’s savior. But James was losing. Though Carney was not a large man, he was still much younger and stronger than James. Haruka could tell that he had little time left before losing consciousness; his knees were starting to buckle, and his grip on Carney’s throat was shaky.
Haruka drew her pistol and flipped off the safety in one swift motion. She leveled her aim at Carney, but the erratic movements of the fighting men kept her from getting a clean shot. She circled to her left, hoping to get clear of her operations chief. She then planted her feet, lowered her aim a little, and cycled two deep breaths as she watched James slip out of consciousness and drop to the ground as his legs gave out. She forced aside the panic and anger that accompanied watching her friend collapse, Carney’s fingers still ringed tightly around his throat. The distraction that James served was all she needed as Haruka took two steps to her left and zeroed in on her mark.
Three shots rang out from the barrel of her pistol. The recoil of the pistol took her by surprise with each subsequent squeeze of the trigger, and she found flesh only with her last two shots. The first caught Carney far lower than she had anticipated, and his right knee exploded in a geyser of blood and bone fragments. The second strike took him in the thigh. He collapsed to the ground, howling in pain and clutching at his lame leg as a torrent of blood mixed with the parched and packed dirt beneath him. Haruka wasted no time in closing the gap to just ten feet, training her Beretta on Carney’s head.
“Don’t you twitch,” she barked. Haruka glanced around at the terrified villagers who were still trembling behind whatever cover they could find. “Someone get James to the doctor, now!”
A few moments of hesitation passed, but Mike and his mother eventually emerged, grabbed James under the arms, and dragged him away to safety. Carney spotted his weapon in the dirt, just beyond his reach, on the other side where Haruka couldn’t reach it. He flailed one hand toward it, but Haruka fired a warning shot into the sky before again leveling the weapon at his head.
“Last warning. Don’t move.”
“Just fucking do it,” he snarled back, his voice full of pain and hatred.
“No. You answer my questions,” she shot back sternly. “Then we’ll see about your punishment.”
Carney let out a pained grunt, then started panting. He looked down at his shattered knee, then back up at the woman who had inflicted the damage. “I’m not saying anything, bitch.”
“You will answer for the crimes you’ve committed.”
“Crimes I’ve committed? Crimes I’ve committed?” Through his pain, she could hear the indignity in his voice, as if she had the audacity to commit some sort of affront to him.
“That’s right. Murder. Rape. Assault. What you’ve been running from for the past two months.”
Haruka glanced up and saw that the villagers had now moved away from the area behind Carney, and were filtering to the safety in her periphery and behind her. She could not see them, but she was keenly aware of their presence, watching every move and listening to every word.
“No,” he spat. “I was fixing your crime. I had to leave my dad at home. I watched my sister drown right after the crash. And what the fuck did I find when they dragged my ass ashore? God damned families of illegals on the new planet.”
Haruka was stunned by his words. “What the hell did you say?”
“I thought these ships were supposed to be for us. For the real Americans. Not filled up with a bunch of Mexicans and their dirty chink bitch leader.”
She ground her teeth for a second as the momentary urge to end his racist drivel made her trigger finger itch. She took a quick breath and growled, “If you’re going to insult me, use the right term.” She waited for him to react, but he only continued to snarl and wince. “I’m not Chinese, kid. My father is Japanese, and my mother is whiter than you. Besides, you’re wrong.”
“Yeah? Prove it.”
“I don’t need to. You just didn’t care to find out. Your ignorance blinded you to what was real. Your claim is that illegal immigrants were placed on board. Not true.”
Carney’s eyes narrowed. “What about the one I beat to a pulp? Or his pretty little wife?”
There’s the confession. Disgusting, but there.
“Luis Serrano was a seventh generation Tejano. His grandfather was a Texas Ranger. Not that you’d care, since you’re not interested in facts.”
“Bullshit.”
“How would you know?” Haruka snapped back. “Did you ever take the time to talk to him? Did you ever sit by the fire and have a meal with him and his family? Of course not. Because if you had, you wouldn’t have killed him, you little prick.”
Haruka bit her tongue immediately after the insult flew from her mouth. She regretted it at once, wishing that she could take it back and show a more even demeanor. But Carney’s obstinate zeal infuriated her, as did his utter lack of empathy for the Serranos. She took a deep breath and calmed herself, then continued.
“Everyone who set foot on one of those ships was thoroughly screened. All but two of them were American citizens. Both of them crew members. Both of them died on the bridge of Raphael when it went down. I’m sorry for the loss of your sister. But your grief and your blind hatred are no excuses for what you did.”
“Save it. I’m still breathing,” he growled, his voice escalating. “You don’t have anywhere to put me. I’m going to be a thorn in your ass as long as I’m still alive, just like I have been for the last two months. So what are you going to do about that, huh? Queen Kimura? Is that what you’re going to have people calling you? Well fuck that, and fuck all of you.”
Carney rolled to his side and he lunged for his rifle. Haruka squeezed the trigger twice, ending Lon Carney’s life in full sight of the gathered throng. Her fingers went numb, and all she could fixate on were the two holes in Carney’s back, seeping with the blood of the first person she ever killed. It wasn’t until Troy removed the gun from her hands that anything else around her existed.
“J-James,” she stuttered.
“He’s alright,” Troy muttered softly as he gripped her shoulder. “Doc’s with him now.”
Haruka turned to embrace her friend, to lean on his shoulder and try to make sense of Lon Carney, and to comprehend that she had taken his life. A life that, despite wanting so badly to end for so long, she now felt guilty about taking. Then a tiny, tear filled face stared back at her from the crowd.
Oh God. She saw it. Gabi saw him die.
Gabrielle Serrano
27 March, Year of Landing, pre-dawn
Camp Eight
She stood frozen in place, trembling uncontrolla
bly. Though she tried to will her feet to go, they were as immovable as stone. Wisps of vapor drifted through the air, masking the eyes that coldly stared up from the ground. Gabi whimpered and turned her face away.
Look at him, Mija, her mother’s voice echoed from afar.
“No!”
Look!
“No!”
A gentle breeze kicked up and the vapors shrouded her. Gabi’s vision was dominated by a grayish-white blur. Chills ran from head to toe, spreading out across every inch of her skin. Her arms wrapped around her body, but they did little to cut through the ice that grew inside her.
“Mama,” she croaked.
He took your daddy away, but look at him now, her mom beckoned. He can’t hurt us now.
The wind shifted, and the browns, greens, and blues of the jungle were all around her. She fixed her gaze at a single leaf on the ground, tracing the pattern of the blue veins over and over in her mind.
Look at him.
“I don’t want to!”
LOOK AT HIM!
Even though her mother was nowhere near her, the words struck a deep fear within her. Trembling, she raised her head and looked at the crumpled body lying on its belly in the middle of the village square. Two deep red circles on his back grew little by little, wet and shiny. Her gaze was fixated in terror on the young man’s pale face as the one eye she could see slowly melted away into a red, horrific mess, writhing with worms and hideous bugs of all kinds. Gabi shrieked at the top of her lungs.
Everything went dark in an instant, but her lungs still let loose a blood curdling scream. When her lungs had nothing left to push out, she gasped in a quick breath, then coughed and choked for air.
“Gabi? What’s wrong?” Dr. Petrovsky called from the darkness.
Gabi was aware that she was sitting upright. She hunched over her knees and clutched them with her arms, sobbing. From her side, she heard a disapproving hiss.
“Are you okay, Gabi?” the doctor asked again.
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