Chronicles of the Stellar Corps: Sassy

by Bernard Paul Glover

  “Just a few hours, I watched you carefully, in case there were complications from the concussion grenade, or the fall. Not that there was much that I could do. All MMCs have been cancelled, effective immediately, until the Guard can get the gangs under control. That could be a very long time, seeing as no one wants to commit troops to the zone. They don’t want to engage with the gangs.

  “Eaters are the worst, but the Knockers, the Shivs and the Scalpers are close behind them for being just plain mean and ultra-violent. The fighting for control of the borough between the gangs is constant. The Eaters are so bad that other gangs have had to step up their level of violence just to keep their turf.

  “But I tell you, Sassy, I have never seen an assault like the one the Eaters mounted last night. They sent most of their fighting force. After the losses they suffered last night, their ranks are a lot smaller today than they have been for quite a while.

  “I’m guessing that they didn’t just want the supplies. It looked like they wanted both the entire vehicle and its staff. That suggests that they were planning a big offensive, and wanted their own MASH, staff included, to care for their wounded. Well, that’s not going to happen now. Between whatever happened on the MMC, and the actions of the Guardsmen once they regained the upper hand, the Eaters’ numbers have been greatly reduced. It may be a while before they are an effective force in the zone again.”

  “Why are they called ‘Eaters’?” Sarah asked.

  “For a long time it was considered to be a kind of urban myth, people said that they are actually cannibals. The gang has been around since just after the time of First Contact. They devolved from the ‘Humans Only’ group; the ones who set off the bomb. No one knows how or why, but as the protest group turned into a gang it was said that they began to kidnap children from the enclaves; for ransom, it was believed. But no ransom was ever demanded. When the children could never be found, despite the limited possibilities for places where the gang might be hiding them, it was suggested that they were eating them. The new name for them stuck.

  “Then, about twenty years ago the Guard was able to act a lot quicker than usual following a kidnapping. They found the segment of the gang that had taken a child from the Flatbush enclave. They were too late to save the little girl. What they found was a confirmation of the urban legend. The girl was just about your age. I was sure that that is what they wanted with you.”

  Sarah sat there silently, contemplating what Mandy had just told her. She didn’t want to be anyone’s dinner. After a long pause, she asked, quietly, “When can I go home?”

  The answer was not what she was hoping to hear. “I don’t know. The Bridge has been closed since the bomb, only special permits can pass. I can get you to the Bridge, but whether they would let you pass is another thing.”

  “But I live in Manhattan. I have my ID. I can prove who I am.” Sarah was getting upset. “They have to let me cross.” The ninja warrior of the night before was now a little girl a long way from home. She fought hard to keep from crying.

  “Sorry, Sassy, but they don’t. Everyday people who want to get into Manhattan try to fake their way across. By now you will already be listed as missing; being taken by Eaters means that you will be most likely be presumed dead.

  “They won’t believe that you are who you say you are. They won’t accept your ID because it will be flagged as ‘Presumed Dead’ in their system. After I rescued you from the Eaters I saw the MMC free itself. They made a beeline for the Bridge. Shortly afterward the Guard patrols pulled back to positions on all the approaches. They have sealed it off. The only other bridge from Brooklyn to the Island has been sealed since the blast.”

  Sarah was crying openly now. “Then what do I do? How do I get home?”

  “I don’t know,” Mandy answered honestly. “For now you can stay with me. This place is secure. From the outside it looks just like a pile of rubble. Unless you know where the entrances are, it’s just a pile of bricks and other crap.

  “We have all the amenities; water, power, heat and even air conditioning in summer. Since 2201 it had been the main public library in the borough. The building suffered only minimal damage, when the high rises all around collapsed on top of it.

  “The beds and other furniture I scavenged from wreckage all over. They are safe and radiation free. The shower and bath modules were gifts from the enclaves in thanks for what help and protection I can give them.”

  Sarah’s eyes went wide. “You’re a hunter?” There was great admiration in her voice. “We hear about hunters all the time. I don’t understand why the Guard are always trying to catch and arrest you guys, though.”

  “Because there is no real law here,” Mandy explained, “…except the law of the jungle. If I catch a couple of gang members trying to break into an enclave, I stop them. Of course, they don’t want to be stopped. Stopping them means using force. Often, one or more of the gang members, or gangers as we call them, will end up dead.

  “We hunters are not cops. We can’t call for backup or subdue them and haul them off to a non-existent jail. We either drive them off or neutralize the threat. Usually it is a combination of both. That’s why they want to arrest us.”

  Again, Sarah sat silently, taking in what she had been told. Finally she said, “I never thought that I could kill anyone, but then the Eaters attacked my mom. I fought back to keep her safe. Then they hurt her and I went ballistic.” She dropped her voice, “I killed a lot of Eaters last night,” she said very quietly, adding, “After last night I’m not a kid anymore. I don’t just practice ninja moves. I am a ninja.” She looked at Mandy. “If I gotta stay here for now, I want to help you.”

  She looked straight at Mandy as she spoke. The crying little girl was gone again. Mandy found herself looking into the eyes of the ninja warrior. The change surprised her and shook her a little, too.

  “It’s dangerous work, Sassy,” she told her. “I didn’t see you fight. I can’t be sure that I can rely on you to have my back. I also don’t want to be the one who introduces you to killing as a way of life.”

  “I’m not too sure about the killing part either. But I can fight. I can use a fighting staff, nunchaku and shuriken, only my nunchaku are probably still on the MMC and I shot all my shuriken.”

  Mandy smiled. “Just a sec.” She disappeared, returning a moment later with Sarah’s weapons. “When the Guardsmen regrouped, and attacked, the Eaters ran for cover leaving, the bodies behind. I recovered the first throwing stars from the bodies left at the scene. Also, the Guard don’t bring the dead gangers back to Manhattan. They dump them on the road, essentially, let the gangers take care of their own. That’s where I recovered the rest of them. The nunchaku were taken by the same guy that took you. I actually thought that they might have been his. Either way, he won’t be using them on anybody!”

  Sarah gratefully accepted the weapons from Mandy. The shuriken she replaced in her pouch. With the nunchaku in hand she stepped to a free space on the floor and executed a flawless demonstration of her prowess with the weapon.

  “I also am proficient in Kung-Fu, Kendo and Karate,” she said, adding, “But I never had to use any of it to kill someone before.”

  Mandy recognized that Sarah was expressing the altruism at times found in young people her age. While she was not rushing to push a little girl into the life of a hunter, already her mind was racing with scenarios in which Sarah could be very effective. “We’ll see how things develop,” she told Sarah, “First we’ll see if we can get you home.”

  That thought pleased Sarah. She began to feel some sense of hope.

  Hunter

  Sarah worked hard. From her first days in the zone she wanted to be effective, to help Mandy in her efforts to tame the zone, and protect both the enclaves and those who had no choice but to try and survive outside of enclave protection.

  It began with extensive training. Mandy took the skills that Sarah had learned under Sensei Nakamura and taught her zone strategies. “Hunte
rs work alone or in teams of two or three,” she taught Sarah. “You will need to use stealth and surprise; to attack from behind and from hiding. You must be ready to kill, or you will be the one who dies. We hunt the predators, but we don’t attack unless they threaten the innocent; but the word ‘threaten’ has a wide definition.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that you don’t wait until they physically attack someone. If you observe a group of Knockers following someone, you take them out. The gangs never just follow. If you wait for them to make their move their intended victim will, WILL, get hurt or killed. That goes for any of the gangs. If you see the Shivs skulking along the wall of an enclave, you act. They’re not there to look at property for sale, or check out the schools in the area. Eaters, I attack on principle. There is only one way to end their threat: Extinction.”

  Training also meant extensive practice in the kind of moves that would be most effective in their guerilla-style attack. When it came to this training, Mandy was pleased to find that it went both ways. Sarah taught her many new moves, and together they developed a host of new strategies. Six months after her arrival in the zone, twelve-year-old Sarah accompanied Mandy on her first night-time patrol.

  For the rest of the time, when she wasn’t training or patrolling, Sarah made good use of the fact that she was living in a library. Mandy once or twice commented that it was like she was still alone as Sarah spent so much time reading e-books, articles in archives and online material. She especially revelled in her new love, actual books made of paper.

  She began by sampling books at random. Then as she found more and more books for which she lacked sufficient basics, she began to construct her own study plans in various disciplines and areas of study.

  Her tastes and interests were highly eclectic, and her love for learning was, as always, passionate. If she didn’t miss her family so much, Sarah would have been in seventh heaven, living in the library.

  Repeatedly she explored various options for getting back to Manhattan. Each time there was an insurmountable obstacle. In a single instant of time the world that had been so open and free was again a high security state, at least as far as the island of Manhattan was concerned.

  The human rights and civil liberties of the residents of Brooklyn were considered null and void by Manhattan Security. If Sarah was caught trying to get home there would be no questions asked. She would be finger printed, injected with a tracer and returned to Brooklyn. As far as Manhattan Security was concerned there were no Manhattanites trapped in Brooklyn.

  Even Queens residents needed special passes, issued by and from the Island, to be allowed across the bridges from Queens. More than fifty years had passed since the bomb, and there was still a fear that someone might try something like that again. Sarah’s return home was beginning to look hopeless.

  At the same time as Sarah researched the options open to her, Mandy also made inquiries. She used her contacts in the enclaves, many of whom were more than willing to help the little heroine who had come to their aid so many times already. She had contacts in Queens as well, who looked into some way of getting her a bridge pass, without success. The conclusion was that Sarah was going to have to stay in Brooklyn until something, somehow, changed.

  If she had to be there, Sarah was determined that she was going to make a difference. Initially the pair went out at dusk and hunted through the night, protecting the enclaves. At times they encountered other hunters, singly or in groups. The others welcomed Sarah, warmly. Despite their grim avocation, she found them to be warm and often sensitive individuals. It was often the case that it was their sensitive selves that had given rise to their determination to protect the people and clean up the zone.

  One year became two and then three. Sarah and Mandy bonded to become the most effective fighting team in the zone. Then one evening something happened that expanded Sarah’s list of predators to be fought.

  Even though the last remaining bridge from Brooklyn to the island was shut tight, Manhattanites could still get passes over the bridges that ran into Queens. They could then bribe certain members of the Queens border guards to be able to pass through normally sealed border crossings into Brooklyn.

  Their prey was the children of families who often went scavenging at dusk. Many of these children were also orphan survivors, their parents having been victims of gang attacks. Life was brutal in the outer-zone.

  To survive, the children would continue to scavenge for things that they might sell on the outer-market. The outer-marketers dealt with the scavenger families in the zone, the gangs, and the hunters alike.

  Mandy hated dealing with them. “They are vultures, carrion-eaters, all of them,” she would usually say after coming back from making some deal with one or the other. But they were a necessity of life for those outside of the enclaves. Very often they could get things that weren’t available in the zone. No one knew how they managed it, but gangers and hunters alike took advantage of it.

  To survive the children of the outer-zone would scavenge about in the streets, or in the rubble of destroyed homes, to find things that they could sell. They also kept an eye out for any booty that may have been dropped by gang members fleeing from the hunters. It was on these children that the Manhattan predators would prey.

  As they always had, they would entice them into their pods with sweet promises. These days it wasn’t candy, but credits, currency to buy food or other necessities from the enclaves rather than the outer-marketers. Inevitably that was the last that anyone would see of the youngsters. So far no one had ever caught one of these predators in the act.

  Then, one evening Sarah was returning from dealing with Horton, one of the most notorious of the outer-marketers. She had traded with him for some extra shuriken. She was carefully making her way along Atlantic near the Bedford–Stuyvesant enclave, where she had left her bike and her most of her weapons, (Horton wouldn’t have let her in if she had had her nunchaku with her), when a pod pulled up beside her. A well-dressed man in his late thirties or early forties called out to her. “Hey there, little girl…”

  In the city Sarah had been taught to avoid such attempts to engage her in conversation. This time was different. She turned towards him. He continued his pitch. “You want to make some extra credits?” he asked, flashing his credit chip.

  Sarah smiled sweetly, “Sure, what do I have to do?”

  “Not much,” came the equally sweet reply, “get in and we’ll talk.” He opened the passenger-side door.

  Sarah knew that her range of movement would be limited once she got into the vehicle, but she took the risk. Feigning shyness, she slid into the passenger’s seat. “Okay,” she said, “Now what do I have to do?”

  “Anything that I tell you to do,” the man commanded roughly, drawing a stinger from inside his jacket. Sarah was ready for it. Even in the confined space of the travelpod she had a number of possible disarms available to her. She decided to use the most painful one. In an instant she had possession of his stinger and his credit chip, and he had a broken arm

  The stinger was a civilian model. Its maximum setting was “heavy stun”. She shot the man and dumped him in the back of his vehicle. Sarah then drove to one of the crossings that these predators were using to get in and out of Queens. She stripped her unconscious passenger naked, and dumped him by the access point and sped off in his pod. She knew that Horton would pay handsomely for the pod and as much as fifty percent of what was on the man’s credit chip.

  After she finished transacting business with the outer-marketer, she headed for Bedford-Stuyvesant enclave. She recovered her bike from the Security Guard at the enclave and returned home with a tidy sum in her pouch and something she never had before, a stinger.

  At first Mandy was not happy with Sarah’s report. “We’re not thieves, Sassy! We can’t become like the gangs.”

  Sarah stared down her mentor and partner. “No we’re not, but how else are these pervs going to learn that our kids, esp
ecially the outer-zone kids, are not toys for them to pick up, abuse and then discard. It’s obvious that when they go home, there’s no one who knows, or even cares, what they’ve done. They come here; do what they want; and get off scot-free.”

  The anger in Sarah’s voice told Mandy of her great passion for the innocents that she was trying to protect. It also showed her that Sarah’s time as a hunter in the zone had hardened her to the mission she had taken upon herself.

  “And another thing,” Sarah added, “For as long as it lasts we have credits that we can use in the enclave stores. We only have to deal with Horton when we need specialty items or we have a pod to sell.” When she mentioned the pod she gave Mandy a wicked grin. “Oh, we also have a new weapon,” she announced, holding up the stinger. “It’s not much good when hunting multiple targets, but when stopping an individual Shiv or Knocker, or whoever, it may be useful.”

  Mandy considered her argument. “Everything you say is true, but that still means that we are behaving like judge, jury and executioner, but for the fact that you left him alive.”

  “And that is different from when we take on a Shiv raiding party outside of an enclave how? We attack from stealth and kill if we have to, don’t we? And what about when we go after the Eaters; their raiding parties never survive if we can help it.”

  “She is really not the same little girl that I rescued from the Eaters,” Mandy thought to herself. “You have a point. But as you said earlier, this won’t last forever. These pervs have their network. Soon enough they will stop coming, and go back to looking wherever it was they used to go for their victims. Unless pervert hunting is very lucrative, we’ll eventually have to return to Horton as our regular market.”

  “In the meantime,” Sarah proclaimed, “I hunt first at twilight. We may not have rid the zone of the gangs, but we might be able to send the perverts packing!” Then as an afterthought she added, “If it gets lucrative enough we might just get a kind of ‘Robin Hood’ thing going with some of the outer-zone families and orphans.”