Stranger King

by Nadia Hutton

  Kozol swore and threw Thegn forward. The door closed behind him and Thegn banged his fist against it in a vague hope that it would open at his touch.

  “You have to go, priest,” Kozol shouted at him from the other side, “Go do what you promised me. I’ll watch your back.”

  Thegn closed his eyes, still hearing the fighting outside of the building, hearing the humans freeing their own kind.

  As he leaned against the wall with his eyes closed, he thought of Lena. He prayed she had gotten away safely. His breathing slowed as he tried to slow his ghele, tried to stop the blood from leaking out of his body. Exhaustion was taking over. He struggled to keep conscious, struggled to keep his life from slipping away.

  He stretched out his hand, opening his eyes to look at the three suns tattooed into his palm. He did not hear the Mokari sing now.

  Thegn pushed to his feet and stumbled down the hallway.

  He held his side as he made it to the communications chair. He prayed he remembered correctly how to use the transmitter, prayed that the interference would be minimal enough.

  He sat in the chair, sighing as the pressure leaked more fluid from his wound. He found the data he had collected before he was captured. Incomplete, but hopefully it would be enough. Enough to prove their sentience certainly, but not enough to convey how worthy humanity was. They were brave, they were adaptable, and in their darkest moments, capable of great sacrifice.

  There was the sound of gunfire from the corridor behind him and he knew he had run out of time. He punched in the coordinates as he heard the door open behind him.

  He turned his head and saw the captain standing behind him, gun pointing directly at his head. Thegn slowly lifted his hands from the controls.

  “You’ve gone native,” the captain accused, laughing.

  It did not help Thegn’s defense that it took him a moment to register the Mokai words. He looked up at him and said, “Let me do this.”

  “You’ve brought in a crew of wild Toolas to pillage our compound. Why should I let you use my equipment when I should shoot you on the spot?”

  “So why haven’t you?”

  The captain said, “I want to give you a chance to defend yourself. Have they corrupted you? Bribed you? I can call my people off. I can get you back home, ghelu. We have a surgeon here; we’ll get that wound looked at right now. Just whatever you’re about to do, don’t. I know you. You are a good man. I don’t want you to make a rash decision.”

  Thegn replied, “You know what’s happening here. You recognize it just as I do. You’re older than me, so you must remember what the Elchai did to us. Do you remember the chemical attacks? Do you remember what they did to us when they captured us? Do you remember what we did to those we thought had submitted? We’re at peace now, but how many of us had to die first before we gave in? How much did we lose to them? You worship a faith that almost no longer exists. How many of your kind died in that war? We hardly remember the songs we sang in worship. We hardly remember the lullabies we sang to our children. Now we’re using those exact weapons and tactics they used against us to invade another world. How can we justify that to ourselves?”

  “We have the right to expand,” the captain replied, “We have the right to create a legacy that even they can’t take from us. We have the right to survive.”

  “We don’t have the right to commit genocide,” Thegn shouted.

  “You’ll condemn your own people and let us find justice at their barbaric hands?”

  “I want to give the humans a chance to live. Don’t let us turn into the Elchai, Captain. We’re better than this. We need to learn. We need to stop this pattern. The humans do it too, it seems all sentient beings do, but we have the chance to choose, to learn from our mistakes and grow wiser.”

  “It’s too late now,” the captain said, gently.

  Thegn shook his head, “Please. Please just help me now.”

  The captain watched him for a moment, his hands trembling slightly as he pointed the weapon at Thegn. Thegn held his body taut, putting as much pressure as he could on the wound.

  The captain hesitated and said, “Get your wound looked at first. I’ll help you transmit the message myself. There’s no reason to die for it.”

  “You’re wrong,” Thegn said. He turned back to the controls and let his fingers input the commands to send his message.

  *

  Lena waited as the others ran past her, the freed people running for the hills and the promise of shelter and freedom.

  Despite her best survival instincts, she decided to go back into the compound. Near the entrance, she found Kozol. His body was slumped against the exterior door, his chest rising and falling shallowly. She kneeled beside him, pressing down on his wounds. He looked up tiredly at her and he grasped her hand tightly.

  “Daniel,” she whispered, tears falling down her face.

  “Go before they see you,” he murmured. “Tell Calvin I’m sorry. Tell him I tried. Take care of our people, Lena. I couldn’t.”

  He breathed out deeply as his pulse stopped beating under her fingers. She closed his eyes and kissed his forehead before rising, tears streaming down her face.

  Kozol was dead. Thegn had been taken or killed. Neither mattered. She wanted to be dead herself, right there and then. But she thought of Janiya. She thought of Stiar. She thought of her father.

  Without another word, she ran.

  She did not stop running until she made it back to the forest line. She barely processed the others running past her until she stopped to vomit into the ash-covered snow. Then she trudged onward, holding her stomach as she stumbled.

  Epilogue

  Three Earth years later

  Lena shivered as she walked deeper into the snow. Her cobbling skills still had not improved over the years and she could feel her socks growing wet and cold. She grumbled. It would still be a week until they slept indoors again. The next tribe had offered them hospitality and a chance to trade. It was worth this trek before the journey north.

  She thought she heard a sound and lowered her hood, glancing around for another soul, her rifle out ahead of her.

  She saw Janiya waving toward her, calling, “Come see what I’ve found!”

  Lena obliged her, putting the rifle in the holster across her back. The infant in her sling looked up at her in amusement and she tickled the child’s chin.

  She had recalled babysitting once as a teenager, but it was a gunless affair then.

  “Don’t tell your daddy,” Lena said jokingly to the infant, who cooed in response.

  It was strange how much the little girl looked like Calvin, despite there being no biological relation. The baby girl was the third child dumped in the preserve in the past few months; an appeasement attempt from the Mokai, to let the Toolas grow up in the wilds. They still did not seem to understand how easy it was for a child to perish without someone to look after it. They had not always been so lucky in finding the children in time. Each time it had broken her heart, no matter how much she thought she would get used to it.

  Lena made her way off the grass and into the wooded area nearby. Janiya was ahead of her, pushing off the top of a bunker.

  “I didn’t think there were any of these in the protected zone,” Lena commented.

  Janiya shrugged, shivering, “A few. They’ve been mostly empty so far. But this one; Lena, you need to see what’s in this one.”

  Lena climbed down after Janiya into the shelter. Janiya held out a torch ahead of them so she could better see what was in front of her.

  Lena froze. “Is that what I think it is?”

  Janiya nodded. “It’s an inter-space transmitter. I’ve been playing with it all week. I know we need to head north soon, but I just got it working today and I wanted you to see it before we left.”

  “It works?” Lena asked, eyebrows raise
d. “You’ve contacted someone else?”

  “Not exactly,” Janiya explained. “There’s a message. It was coded in Navajo first, pretty clever, really. But I managed to decode it throughout the week. I think you need to listen to it.”

  Janiya played with the dials, a strange hum entering the room. Suddenly the message played through, cracked and worn, the strange sound of electronics throwing Lena off slightly.

  In a soft voice Lena barely recognized, the message played.

  My fellow humans,

  On behalf of the united governments of the world, I have been selected to give this final message to you. My name is Adrienne Chan and until earlier this morning, I was the Prime Minister of Canada.

  Earth is under attack. We are being invaded by a force we know little about. But already we know that we cannot win. My fellow leaders and I have voted to destroy all evidence of the human colonies, in an attempt to protect those humans still unknown in the galaxy. This will be the last transmission you will hear from Earth.

  This is not a S.O.S. This is an epitaph. We will fight and we will try the hardest we can to die a free people. But we know we cannot win. And if there is a chance, a chance that somewhere out there we can live on, then we must give you the best chance we can. Our ships will be destroyed, all records, all communication. Please do not try to contact Earth; please do not try to send help. You will only be endangering yourselves. If survivors attempt to reach your colonies, you must not let them dock. They may carry a virus from which there is no recovery.

  I do not know if this is the right choice. But I know it is our best chance. You represent the best of us. The old lines don’t matter in the colonies, the old feuds, the old grudges. Remember that you are the last of us, the final gift we can give to the galaxy. Treat each other gently, for you are a treasure. For you are the last.

  Do not seek revenge. Grow, get stronger, and help our people fight another day. Mourn us. But honor us, for we will die a free people.

  After you have heard this message, it must be destroyed. Do not further transmit it over any satellite or radio. This is to protect you and our kind. All transmissions from Earth will be destroyed. This is not the time for nostalgia; it is the time for practicality.

  My fellow humans, I must go now. I do not know what will become of Earth, but I know our people will survive. They live on in you and your kin. Keep surviving. Keep fighting. And remember our home in your hearts. This is the land of our ancestors, all of our ancestors. Mourn us, but leave us to fight this last battle. It is your turn to live to fight another day. It is our turn to fight for our lives.

  Lena said quietly, “Can we transmit from here?”

  “No,” Janiya said. “With the interference, it wouldn’t even get past the walls. If we bring it north with us, we might be able to contact P-180, ask for help. We might be able to get off this planet. If they still have enough battleships, they might be able to break through the blockages, certainly destroy the fences, and kill a few––”

  Without hesitation, Lena ordered, “Destroy it.”

  “What?” Janiya challenged. “You can’t be serious. We lost, Lena. We have, what, a nature preserve? A little space for the poor endangered species to hunt their wild game while alien tourists snap pretty pictures of us and pat themselves on the back for letting us live in the wild? We lost. Our governments sold us out. We could have left this godforsaken place. We could have survived. This is appeasement, not life.”

  Lena looked down at the child strapped to her chest. “We did survive. This is our planet, Janiya. You’re right. We lost. But there are others out there. Others born free and human. I’m not risking that. We need to destroy this transmitter.”

  “You would doom the rest of us to protect strangers across the galaxy? Who knows, maybe they’ve blown themselves up or fought each other to extinction. Maybe the bastards already got them. Maybe the disease took them. But we won’t know unless we try. This could save us, Lena.”

  Lena said softly, “There are still humans on Earth. That may not seem like a victory to you. It doesn’t even seem like a victory to me. But it feels like hope. It feels like a chance. We have to give them a chance, too. Maybe one day they’ll be strong enough to fight back, maybe one day they’ll help us take back Earth. But they’re alive now and that’s better than the alternative.”

  “You agree with the government?”

  Lena said quietly, “What does it matter now? We are alive and we are not alone. This is not the day to fight back. This is the day to keep surviving. We owe that to those who didn’t make it.”

  Janiya let out a muffled scream and then calmed herself, nodding.

  “Ok, let’s destroy it, but the others… Maybe they should listen. Maybe they should know why…”

  Lena shook her head. “What good will that do? They already know. There’s no point picking at old wounds.”

  Janiya lowered her head, “I can’t do it. I know I just agreed that it needs to be destroyed, but it goes against every fiber of my being to raise the hammer.”

  Lena took the child off her front. “Here. Take her. I’ll meet you back with the others. I won’t be more than a minute or two.”

  Janiya agreed, strapping the child to her as she climbed out of the shelter. Lena took her club from her back, raising it over the transmitter as it played through its second loop.

  …the last of us, the final gift we can give to the galaxy. Treat each other gently, for you are a treasure. You are the last.

  Without another hesitation, Lena smashed the transmitter until the message stopped, pieces flying across the shelter. She stood in the wreckage, tears springing to her eyes. Her rattled crying sounded through the room. She fell to her knees in the pieces of the transmitter, screaming.

  Hearing the child cry outside, she caught herself and took a deep breath. She wiped the tears from her eyes and raised herself to her feet. She looked around the shelter for a moment and when she was calm, Lena climbed back out into the forest.

  Janiya did not look at her as she approached them again. Lena walked back to the group, waiting quietly in the field as the moon rose above them. The fire burnt softly in the center, the children being woken lovingly as they prepared to go.

  A sleepy toddler complained after being hoisted up by a parent. Lena smiled as she watched the interaction, the beating of her heart slowing. She had made the right decision. She knew that now.

  Janiya came to stand beside her. “I’m sorry.”

  “Me too,” Lena admitted.

  Janiya put her arm around her and Lena rested against her shoulder. She breathed in deeply, comforted by her presence.

  “We should head out soon,” Janiya said quietly, “We need to get safely to their camp before the sun rises. The caribou might be able to walk in this light, but I still can’t.”

  Lena looked up at the seeded clouds, “In a few more years we might be able to. The bastards need their pets to be on display all hours of the day.”

  Lena smirked at Janiya who smiled in return. Lena relaxed. They had come to an accord. Janiya gave her a small push and Lena kissed her lightly. Janiya smiled at her, taking her hand and giving it a squeeze.

  As they walked back to the rest of the group, lights flickered on in the forest above them. Lena closed her eyes, blocking the light with her hands. When she recovered, she looked up, seeing the ship overhead growing nearer as it descended.

  Lena gazed up at it with indifference and went back to her people, lifting her pack and placing it over her back. As the others packed to move, the ship grew closer. Lena waited as the others began to move out, singing as they made their way deeper into the forest, their eyes occasionally glancing back at the ship coming to hover beside them.

  Lena watched the screen open, the creatures observing them from afar as they recorded their visit, capturing images and discussing the voyage with thei
r companions. She glared at them as they hovered beside her. She vaguely understood what they said, understood they were fascinated by these wild creatures. One had only seen them in captivity. They were much more fearsome on their home world. A truly beautiful sight. One worth their investment.

  As she reached her clan, the small child returning to her arms, the ship hovered closer, trying to get a glimpse at the new life in her arms. She understood the murmur, the question of parentage, of heritage. What race of human was this, this little thing in her arms? What breed?

  She had enough then. She had already lost one child to their prying eyes and their need for research. She had given birth in the last days of summer, Janiya delivering her hybrid child into her arms. The last Mokai-human child born on Toola, the rumor was among the scientists. If it was ghelu Thegn’s child, it was immediately to be taken to the Septun to be dealt with. She had carried it for nine months. She carried it in hope, in some strange hope that all would be well. She had not wanted this child, she had not wanted…

  Maria had been a comfort, but she had seen the woman’s own hybrid child taken from her arms. Janiya had promised her otherwise, that she would defend Lena’s baby. Lena had worried Janiya would never forgive her, but it had been irrational. Janiya loved her. It was because of Janiya she had survived, had healed. But she could never adopt one of these abandoned children as her own now. She helped raise the others, she loved and cared for them, but she could not lose another.

  The lights from the ship dimmed. Lena was relieved, as she was able to see again. She looked ahead at her clan, the thirty humans who had survived. Thirty who still lived free on their home world. There were others throughout the reserve, four clans that interacted in relative peace. A tentative peace born out of necessity. But these thirty, these were her responsibility, her people. She was vanguard of a fourth of all humanity on Earth. The responsibility did not always sit well on her shoulders.