by E. M. Peters
The first thing she registered were bodies on the rocky ground – some with their clothes singed off and many of them burnt. They didn’t move. Skylar knew immediately they were dead and felt a tight knot twist in her stomach. So many bodies.
The next thing she saw was a mass of people rushing towards her. Many of them were screaming and angry. Some stopped to circle around fallen bodies, others continued at her, leaping up the ramp with determined purpose.
Skylar held up her hands, “I don’t know what happened!” She tried to say over the noise but her words sounded muted against the collective anger of the crowd approaching her. She tried again, but it was in vain as the sea of people hit her like a violent wave. Some moved past her – they seemed to think being on the ship was the safest route. Others surrounded her and pushed her against the wall, yelling angrily.
“I stopped the ship! I stopped it!” She said over and over again. Many of the faces she did not recognize and the crushing weight of the mass was stifling.
Someone reached out and struck her, making her head bounce off the bulkhead. That was enough to incense the others to violence – some pulling at her clothes, others kicking. She was struggling against them and calling out for help when she felt a sharp pain in her upper right leg. She screamed involuntarily as the pain rocketed up her body.
Her scream was punctuated by the sound of a flare gun being fired into the air. It was close, and it startled the group that surrounded Skylar. They turned to see Alexa holding the double barreled flare gun. She lowered her aim to point it at the crowd. Luca and Javier were standing next to her, looking authoritative. They were on the other side of the ramp’s highest point. Beside them, an emergency container had been forced open – it held fog horns, hand lamps and more flare guns.
“Disperse!” Alexa said and added “Now!” when they did not immediately move. That did the trick, and everyone in the crowd scattered.
Skylar slid to the floor and clutched her leg. Her face tingled from a blow she had taken and her lip was cut open. She looked down to see that her leg had been gashed open. Something had cut through the fabric of her jumpsuit, into her skin and muscle.
Alexa was at the Captain’s side as soon as the crowd was gone. Javier and Luca chased off any onlookers and stood with their backs to the women to ensure their safety. The former medic did not waste time. She assessed the situation with remarkable speed and was wrapping her belt around Skylar’s thigh before the Captain knew what was happening.
“We need to get your bleeding under control,” Alexa explained in a calm voice. “Once we do that, you should be fine.” She assured with confidence, but the truth was, Alexa was not sure. In terms of unfortunate places to be stabbed, the upper leg was one of them. If her femoral artery had been hit, she would need surgery to survive the hour.
“Luca,” Alexa barked, going into a headspace she had thought she left behind, “I need you to put pressure on the wound,” She told him and showed him what she needed. Looking reluctant at first, Luca acknowledge the serious look in her eyes and pressed his palms firmly on the wound in an attempt to help stop the bleeding.
“Javi,” Alexa looked up at the other man. “I need a med kit from the infirmary. I need it five minutes ago.” He didn’t even delay long enough to nod. The man sprinted off, pushing people out of the way as he did so.
Alexa looked up and around. The loading bay was in chaos. People were pulling cargo boxes away from where they had been tied down and running away with them down the loading ramp. People were pushing and shoving and yelling at each other in the aftermath of the ship attempting a launch. The long term effects of not eating didn’t help – even before the chaos of the ship’s attempted departure; people were in so much desperate pain they were ready to lash out at the smallest opportunity. It had been a building powder keg for months.
She didn’t know what had happened, but she knew it was not the Captain’s doing. She and some of the others had tried to stop the crowd from rushing back onto Colony One, but, many of them still affected by seeing their fellow passengers killed by the accident, mixed with the fear of abandonment was too strong a combination to stop the onslaught of anger and confusion.
When Alexa’s attention refocused on the Captain, she realized Skylar had lost consciousness. “Shit, shit, shit,” She spoke under her breath. She wanted to be strong for Luca, who had a look of frozen worry and fright on his face, but she was overwhelmed with the very real possibility that they were about to lose their Captain.
In the distance, there was a sound of familiar humming engines. After a moment, it was obvious the sound was coming nearer to them. “The Runners?” Luca asked Alexa.
“No… they couldn’t be back so soon.” Alexa said with a frown. The buzzing sound of engines made the anxiety grip the pit of her stomach with a vice-like grip, and she scanned the interior of the ship for any sign of Javier.
Outside of the ship, four Runners were converging. The groups of people who had stayed outside and away from the madness of Colony One gave the scout ships space. The ships powered down and a sudden silence blanketed the crowds.
The doors of the Runners opened all at the same time, and a half dozen people came spilling out of each one – unrecognizable to any of Colony One’s passengers. They were not the people who left. They were outsiders, wearing headscarves to hide their faces. They rushed into the crowds, who back peddled with surprise and fear. They wielded angry looking sticks and pipes – anything that could be used to swing and inflict harm – and began to chase after defenseless passengers. It was clear that they had only one purpose in mind and one of the first outsiders to reach a Colony One passenger removed all doubt when he smashed a heavy pipe down on the passenger’s head. The unlucky man fell to the ground in a twitching heap.
From the high point of Colony One’s ramp, Luca and Alexa could see everything. They watched with their mouths slung open in abrupt shock.
“What the hell is happening?” Luca asked. Every muscle in his body tensed – he wanted to defend his colony family, but his pressure on the Captain’s wound might have been the only thing that was keeping her from certain death.
“We should close the ramp!” Someone shouted from the cargo bay. Alexa looked over to see a woman clutching some sort of bag that she has taken from the stack of supplies.
“No,” Alexa said. “We can’t leave them out there.” She pivoted where she knelt and pointed at a group of men, “You four – defend the ramp. Flare guns are there,” She pointed to a box she had gotten into earlier. “Let only those aboard who are with us.” They looked cowed for a moment, but Alexa shouted at them and they jumped into action.
Javier returned with a medical kit and a look of horror at what he had returned to. Wordlessly, Alexa snatched the kit from him and tried to split her focus on the newest crisis and saving the Captain’s life.
“Get everyone back on board,” Luca told Jaiver. “We’re not alone.”
Alexa tore open a gauze pack with her teeth and quickly worked the material under Luca’s hands. With blood smearing all over the med kit, she rifled through it to find the self-sealing bandage that she could use to plug the wound in Skylar’s leg. After a moment of not being able to find what she was looking for, she upturned the kit, dumping the entire contents on the deck in a flash of frustration. Her eyes darted through the contents, spreading it out with adrenaline fueled motions. Abruptly, she slammed her fist down on the metal deck and shouted out a curse.
“What? What is it?” Luca wanted to know. Her behavior made him push down harder on the Captain’s leg, as if it might help, or possibly slow down time.
“There’s nothing but useless junk in here!” She said through gritted teeth. “Gauze, bandages, antiseptic… That’s it.”
Luca was shaking his head in disbelief. Even he knew a standard first aid kit had more in it than that. Pain killer, at least. And on a ship like this, there should have been more than your basic field dressings. “That can’t be r
ight.”
Alexa flung the empty plastic case of the medical kit against the metal wall and sat back with her shoulders slumped. Pushing her anger aside, she refocused on the Captain. Her head lulled to the side and her mouth was slightly agape. Alexa’s chest tightened. She rocked forward and put the back of her fingers to the Captain’s cheek, then pushed two fingers into the side of her neck. “Captain,” she spoke firmly. “Captain,” she repeated as she took the woman’s chin in her hand and shook it gently.
“Is she…” Luca began to ask but felt his words lodge in his throat.
Down below, Ndale, Demetri and Lucy crouched beneath the ship, kept hidden by the lowered ramp and the great shadow the ship cast. They had taken cover as soon as they realized they were under attack.
“Should we try to help?” Demetri asked.
“Help what?” Ndale asked. He was gripping the great sack he held so tightly that his knuckles were white with the force of it. “We don’t even know what’s happening.”
Lucy leaned to the side, enough to see around the edge of the ramp, “Bad guys have masks on. Good guys don’t. We hurt the bad guys.” She suggested.
“Do you think those Runners have any weapons?” Demetri wondered.
Ndale shook his head, “They wouldn’t be hitting people with sticks if they had.”
Demetri shrugged as if to say – fair point. Lucy eyed the bag that Ndale was clutching so tightly, “What about you? Did you smuggle any weapons with you?” She wondered.
Ndale opened his mouth and made to answer but hesitated.
Demetri knew a tell when he saw one. He straightened over Ndale, as if to better contrast the height difference. “What do you have?”
“Do you have any idea how much trouble I could get in if people knew I brought weapons?”
“We’re already in trouble,” Lucy pointed out.
“Well,” Ndale considered, “We could always just… see how this plays out.”
Demetri and Lucy both fixed the merchant with powerfully scornful looks.
“Alright, alright.” He conceded. He loosened his grip on the sack and bent over to sift through it. He put his back to the pair when the leaned in to peer into the bag’s contents. After a moment, he extracted a plastic case, popped it opened and offered it to Demetri. “You take it. I’m not going out there.”
Demetri looked from it, to Ndale, and back to the case. He took the handgun that rested inside the foam liner and the two loaded magazines that were nestled beside it. “So much for a peaceful new beginning,” he said as he pushed one of the magazines into the handle of the semi-automatic weapon.
Ndale snapped the case shut and shoved it back into his bag. “I am simply following a proud tradition of my people.”
“What’s that?” Lucy asked with more than a little skepticism in her tone.
“Diversifying,” He quipped. “Besides, whoever carries the bigger stick rules the world. It was true back on Earth and I figured it’d be true here, too.”
“Or,” Demetri pulled on the gun’s slide to load it. “In this case, the bigger gun.”
Javier had managed to get several Colony One passengers back onto the ship while holding off the outsiders, but they had quickly caught onto their strategy. In the spirit of divide-and-conquer, they had formed a line between the remaining passengers and the ship and were corralling anyone left on the ground back towards the Runners.
A man beside him began to raise his flare gun but Javier lunged over, pushing his aim back to the metal ramp, “We can’t risk using the flares,” he explained through gritted teeth. “If we use them all and they find out, they’ll overrun us.”
It was an impossible situation – they couldn’t fire on them, and attempting to prevent the outsiders from closing in on the others by confronting them, they would have to risk leaving the ship to be boarded. He and the others stood anxiously halfway down the ramp and shouted at the corralled passengers to make a break for it – to get back to the ship.
But it was no use. The outsiders were closing around them, bloody clubs and pipes ready to strike. Javier watched, helplessly, and let out a guttural, pained noise as the outsiders began to rush the group.
A loud crack sounded and was so unexpected, one of the outsiders jolted in shock.
Javier squinted towards the clutch of people and realized – no, the man had not jolted. He had been stuck by something. He fell to the ground and writhed in pain. It got the attention of his group, who looked around frantically as another crack sounded and another member fell.
The outsiders began to scatter. Crack, crack, crack. The sounds came in rapid succession but only two outsiders fell this time. The rest were fleeing back to their Runners.
The passengers left on the ground immediately made a break for Colony One. As Javier made room for them to pass, he saw movement from beside the ramp out of the corner of his eye. He rushed over to the side, flare gun at the ready in case it was another attack and immediately pointed it skyward when he recognized the man below as Demetri.
Javier had to do a double take when he realized what the man was holding. Demetri offered a shy smile, then held his index finger to his lips before returning it to support his aim.
Demetri fired a quick couple of bursts at the retreating outsiders to ensure their departure as they clamored back into their Runners and sped away. When it was clear they were leaving, the man backed away, back under the ramp, leaving Javier to gape at where he used to be.
No one else seemed to notice, or care – there was only terror, pain and chaos.
Javier’s gaze moved from the side of the ramp out to the expanse beyond. Dust was swirling from the departure of the Runners and through it, bodies could be seen littering the ground – most of them unmoving. His eyes swept up the ramp and back into Colony One. They found Alexa, who was still sitting in front of the Captain. She felt his gaze and returned it with a stony expression, and finally, a slow shaking of her head.
He knew immediately – their Captain was dead.
19
Earth, Present Day
Lance Richardson did not know what day it was, or where he was. He did not know how long he had been kept in the small, lightless room. He did not know if anyone was advocating for his release, or what his fate would be at the hands of his captors. He did not know how long it had been since he had eaten.
His mind was filled with venomous thoughts towards Tom and the others at EMP who let him be taken. He thought about what he had done and felt anger burn in him like a furnace. He had done nothing but ensure the continuation of the human race. The hungrier he became, the more isolated he was, the thought became reinforced – he should be hailed as a hero, not shut away and abused like a criminal.
When they finally pulled him from the tiny room, he was nothing if not a man with conviction.
Citizens United had successfully overrun World Corp’s headquarters. The staff had been evacuated, but the mob claimed the facilities – using it as staging center. From the large network of buildings, they had the capability to transmit signals world-wide from one of the World Corp owned news stations that was on site.
In the center of the buildings was an extravagantly large courtyard with a carefully manicured grass quadrangle. In the space, the members of Citizens United had constructed a platform large enough for one, lone person. The platform was surrounded by a throng of people who stood in silence as they faced the raised structure. This is where Richardson was brought out and sat, strapped to a chair and squinting at the powerful brightness of the sun after a hood was ripped from his head. They had attached a microphone to his tattered suit and there were large screens surrounding the courtyard that projected his image from the camera that was trained on him.
“Is your name Lance Richardson?” A booming voice asked – amplified by the microphone the speaker wore. Richardson whipped his head around, looking for the man addressing him but the crowd was so dense and his vision so sensitive, he could not spot his interrogato
r.
“Of course it is,” he answered and his voice was amplified, too. His words were broadcast to every viewer in the world. Those who did not want to tune in had no choice. Taking over World Corp headquarters meant that Citizens United could manipulate the broadcast, and they were literally pumping to feed along every single broadcast channel on the viewer and every OMNI device on Earth.
“Were you responsible for the Colony Missions?” The voice asked. Richardson’s eyes began to adjust so that instead of squinting, he could look meaningfully out into the crowd. He scowled at them and their numbers.
“I was,” he said with enlarged pride. His shoulders straightened as much as they could from where his forearms were strapped to the chair.
“Why have we not heard from the Colony ships since their departure?”
Richardson’s eyes narrowed and he did not answer immediately. He had given his spiel hundreds of times – flawlessly without variation – about how communication was limited. He felt the anger and hate flare in him, fueling a sudden compulsion to lash out and hurt these people the way they had hurt him, “What does it matter?” He asked with a bite to his voice, “They’re gone, and you’re here. Do you not have more food on your plates and jobs to fill?”
“Are you admitting that these missions were designed to fail?” The voice asked with a restrained tone.
The drone filming Richardson edged closer, zooming on his face and the intensity of his eyes. Richardson starred directly into the lens and his lips pulled back as he bared his teeth in a show of aggression and anger. “I am admitting to trying to make life on Earth more bearable!”
“Are all of those people dead?” The voice asked with a measure of belligerence.
Richardson’s jaw set and he did not answer.
“How many more people were you going to send to their deaths?” The voice escalated.