The Grapple

by Moshe Ben-Or

  “The moat was bridged. The Looters were rallying. I saw the reserve running toward us, Coach Alvarez out in front, yelling, waving a piece of rebar. But they were too far. They’d be too late.

  “I heard Remarque give the order. I saw the CA Battalion line up.

  “There was this one boy, right next to me…

  “Not a professor, not a TA, not a grad student, just a simple freshman boy. He’d been hit in the head by a piece of cannon. He was sitting on the ground, bleeding. A nurse was bandaging him. When he heard the order, he shrugged her off. Levered himself up with his musket. Got in the ranks. He was swaying...

  “Their tabs weren’t white anymore. They were gray and black, from the smoke and the soot, and the dust. Their faces were gray and black, too. Streaked with blood, sweat... Set hard. Cold, like steel.

  “They knew they were going to their deaths, but they were going anyway. They were all going together.

  “I think he was a violinist, that boy. There was a violin case next to him on the battlement. I don’t know why anyone would bring a violin...

  “Remarque gave the order to charge bayonets. I saw them come down. The blades were red with half-dried blood. Only the tips were shining. The tips of the bayonets, and Remarque’s three stripes. They were real gold, those stripes, not polymer. Real gold…

  “I measured out the fuse for the charges with my own hands. To clear the moat. I felt the blast wave. It showered me with dirt, and pieces of bodies.

  “I saw Remarque alone on the far side, out among the Looters, laying about with that club of his. He waved the handkerchief. The cannon volleyed...”

  The blond girl sobbed, shaking like a leaf.

  “It made me sick, after. There was no time to be scared when it was happening. I had too much to do. It all happened so fast. But after… I couldn’t... Just couldn’t.

  “I still dream it, sometimes; still smell it. The stench. Powder smoke. Blood. Sweat. Dust. Rotting meat. Rotting human meat...”

  The blond girl sobbed again. Tears made little rivulets down her cheeks.

  “They lived it,” said Maria. “They lived it every day, day in and day out. For thirty-two days, the fighting never stopped, not even at night. The night of the seventeenth, right before the Counterattack, there were four infiltrations. That was the quietest night of the Siege.

  “I fed them. Sharpened bayonets. Cleaned guns. Adjusted locks.

  “Before the Collapse, I believed in the nonsense. All that stuff about being able to do what they did. But it’s all a lie. We just didn’t see it. Technology shielded us. When the machines went away…

  “The strongest of us are barely as strong as the weakest of them. There were a few who could stand in the line, up on the Wall. The girls’ crew team. I remember them going up, singing the Fight Song. And the wrestlers, and the weightlifters.

  “But they were so very few. And they’d died so quickly...”

  Maria paused, wiping off a tear. She didn’t want to continue. But somehow she knew that she must. She’d never really talked about this to anyone. She’d never explained, laid it all out end to end. Not even for herself.

  “When the men came down off the Wall, they were so exhausted they could barely walk. Every extra minute of rest was precious. Every moment we could give them. I handed them back the bayonets. But I never went up there with them.

  “How many times can a man plunge a bayonet into living human flesh, before he turns into a beast? How many times can he watch living people being torn apart by grapeshot?

  “There were women among the Looters. Children. Babies. They shot babies in their mothers’ arms...

  “I saw them changing. Their eyes. The way they looked at us. Like we were things. Dead eyes. Wolf eyes.

  “During the Counterattack, they were ordered to level everything that could be leveled and burn down everything that could be burned. Kill everyone they saw. Every man, woman and child within three kilometers of the Wall. Even if they were trying to run away, or begging for mercy. They were issued dynamite, to take down buildings. And phosphorus grenades, to throw into basements.

  “I heard that order being given. No one objected.

  “I helped to pull the handcarts, behind the second wave. Engineers were dynamiting buildings all around us.

  “There was this little girl. A toddler. She couldn’t have been older than three. She crawled out of the rubble with a broken leg. I started toward her. I would’ve shared my rations. She was such a tiny little thing, she wouldn’t have eaten much...”

  Maria flicked off another tear. She had to be careful, she thought, or she’d break down, too.

  “A man shot her dead,” she continued. “Casually, like swatting a fly. His sergeant chewed him out for wasting powder. Told him that he had a bayonet. Then he yelled at me to get back to my cart.

  “The next week, they switched those four nurses in front of the Assembly, for violating the rationing regime. The ones who’d hidden a Looter child in the basement of Oliveira Hall. Only then did I begin to understand...”

  “They didn’t all change from that,” said the blond girl. “Martín wasn’t up on the Wall. Pillár wasn’t, either. Many of the worst ones weren’t. And some of the ones who were aren’t beasts.

  “I think I saw Pillár take his first girl.

  “It was late in the Siege, almost at the end. I had a message for him, from Martín. I don’t remember what it was, anymore.

  “We were all out of it. I didn’t realize what was happening. I don’t think anyone did. The smelter was hot. It was nighttime. There were flames and shadows. The hammer mill was going. The din was unbearable. Sparks were flying… It looked like a scene out of Hell.

  “All the girls were in their underwear. He was, too. They had aprons to protect them from the sparks, and long gloves. There was this one girl, she had nothing on but the apron.

  “Pillár just grabbed her by the arm, and dragged her off into the dark. I thought she’d done something wrong. When she came back, she was crying...”

  “It’s contagious,” replied Maria, “like a disease. Once someone grabbed the first girl and no one did anything...”

  “Weinberger could have stopped them,” sniffled Maria’s companion. “He could have ordered the Campus Police… Before the war, I thought he was good.”

  “Weinberger needs their skills,” replied Maria. “He wants them loyal, and happy. We’re the spoils. If they didn’t have the spoils…

  “Sanchez is always there. Always.

  “I think…” said Maria, stepping forward, “I think he tried to limit the damage. He hung Armagnier. Over this.”

  Maria’s fingers tapped the three horizontal stripes on her companion’s lapel.

  “A Senior Lecturer in Computer Science. A hero of the Siege. Over a seventeen-year-old white-tab girl owned by some freshman boy from H&SS…

  “We can’t resist a lawful Pin. But once they Pin us, they can’t take it back. They have to care for us, forever. The Dean will make them if they don’t. It’s even possible to get a Release, if there are Grounds. I think one girl did it...”

  There was a rush of footsteps down the tunnel.

  Another girl burst into the light.

  Tall. All curves. Long red hair in a bob cut. The longest possible that regulations allowed. Almost down to her shoulders. Two thick Personal Staff stripes on an emerald School of Medicine background. Red tabs with a single thin stripe. Sophomore, H&SS.

  Green eyes. Freckles. A whole lot of freckles.

  “Dolores,” she blurted, holding up her paper triangle. “I knew it wasn’t a dream!”

  “Katrina,” said the girl behind her as she stepped out of the tunnel. “I’m Katrina.”

  The hand that held the paper triangle was cafe-com-leite, like Maria’s own. Faded-looking black hair; no shine at all. Bun or ponytail, she couldn’t tell from the front. Something that pulled it all back. Brown eyes. Average in every way possible. As if she tried her best to look plai
n.

  Young. Almost too young to be in college when the bombs fell. But already there were lines at the corners of her mouth, and around her eyes.

  Her eyes were red. She cried a lot, thought Maria.

  Hungry. Thin, and a little dirty. Worn-looking, pitiful. Tired. Shadows under her eyes. Her every movement was furtive, as if she was scared of everything, down to her own shadow.

  The lapel tabs were white, without stripes. There was nothing else.

  A CA freshman. No owner. Poor thing...

  “Alice,” said the blond girl.

  “Maria.”

  “We’re four,” said Alice. “I know there’s one more. Don’t ask me how.”

  “Let’s wait a little longer,” suggested Katrina. “Maybe she’s late.”

  “Pillár raped me,” said Maria, fighting not to sob.

  She had to keep talking, she thought. If she stopped talking, she would cry. Curl up into a little ball, down on the floor, and weep forever. And never, ever stop.

  “He beat me half to death. He tore me open with his boot. I needed welds. The whole campus saw. No one cares.

  “He owns as many girls as he’s permitted, same as everyone else. There must always be six. And they all have to be useful.

  “No one liked me enough to warn me.

  “I wouldn’t sleep with anyone, so they gave me to him, when the other accounting girl killed herself.

  “He just came at me. Didn’t show me the tabs, didn’t give me a receipt, didn’t say anything. Simply went for my skirt. I startled. If he’d Pinned me first, I wouldn’t have fought. I know the rules.

  “He threw me away, after. Like trash. The School threatened to toss me out. Completely out on the street, to starve. For assaulting a Senior Lecturer.

  “I begged, on my knees. I offered the adjudicator… I’m still a virgin, in front. But he wouldn’t take me. Said that I was a bitch, and deserved to hang. I don’t know why I wasn’t thrown out...

  “There’s rumor now that I tried to resist a Pin. They mutter about me. I don’t know if Pillár had Registered me. I told the cops, I didn’t know. I told them I was wearing pantyhose. I hadn’t even shaved. I had stubble all over my legs. What girl wears pantyhose for her Plunge?

  “I think they believed me. They let me go, at the end of the day. But if he did Register me, and he starts a Proceeding…

  “They’ll hang me. They’ll hang me for sure, same as the two girls who’d hung after Armagnier.”

  “The day they came out with these,” answered Alice, tapping her lapel, “and I heard my name at the Assembly, I ran away to my room. I was in shock. I didn’t know where else to go.

  “Martín followed me. He already had the tabs in hand.

  “I knew that he’d preregistered me. That I couldn’t resist. But I shied away from him anyway, when he’d tried to pin them on.

  “I just couldn’t... Not like that. I never imagined it like that. He never even asked.

  “I was crying, but he didn’t care. He threw the tabs on the desk and told me to get on my knees.

  “He calls me his elf. His magic slut. The other day, he petitioned to have my implant yanked. The medical exam was supposed to be tomorrow.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” blurted Dolores, shaking her head. Her bangs went flying. She swatted at them.

  “Someone likes her hair this way,” thought Maria. “She doesn’t.”

  She’d been told how to wear it. What else had she been told?

  Most Pins were all right. It worked out, somehow. But they owned you. They could do whatever they wanted. Almost anything. You didn’t get a say. Sometimes...

  “I’ve lost count,” sobbed Katrina. “They just take us. Like cookies from a jar. Professors, upperclassmen… Anyone with power. Anyone at all. A freshman Engineer can take one of us, if he wants. Even a CA senior. By the book, he can’t even Pin her, but nobody cares. If we as much as say a word back, they beat us. As long as they don’t kill us or break any bones, it doesn’t matter to anyone. But if we have a weapon… If we hurt one of them, even by accident...

  “There are no CA men left. The few professors we’ve got all hide in their cottages. None of them have any power, except Duarte.

  “Duarte has lunch with the Dean all the time, but she hates us. Some girls tried going to her. They begged on their knees. Crawled and kissed her boots. She laughed...

  “They stop us in the hallways. Wait for us in the stairwells. We have nowhere to turn, nowhere to hide. The only way out is to find someone who likes you enough to keep you. There are no more open slots. They can’t Pin us. But, at least we can get out of the dorm. If he likes us enough. Or she. There are women professors, women TAs… They say that Marty Milena doesn’t even do anything to her girls. Or maybe she asks them. I’ve never been asked...

  “Campus Police are the worst. They have skeleton keys. Our dorm room doors aren’t allowed latches. The other night, one came into my room at two in the morning. Pulled all four of us out of bed and had us stand there naked while he chose. Turned and bent us. Spread things. Stuck his fingers inside and tasted. Without a word. Like we were slabs of meat.

  “I’m not meat!” she cried out, “I’m a human being!”

  “Not to them, you’re not,” answered a basso voice. “But this ain’t group therapy.”

  A heavyset, muscular man stepped out of the shadows. A campus cop. He had a first lieutenant’s pips on his epaulets.

  They’d all run right past him to get to the light, realized Maria. He’d been there the whole time.

  There was nowhere to go. All she could think of was the gun on his hip.

  The cop lifted his hand. Between his fingers was a little paper triangle.

  “Jose,” he answered their unspoken question. “Or did you think it only happens to girls? With you, it’s just out in the open.”

  Alice recovered first.

  “We’re all here, then,” she said calmly. “All five.”

  “But who...” asked Katrina. “How? Why? What’s all this for?”

  “Who and how don’t matter,” answered Jose. “We all went to the docs. We all take pills. We all keep the bottles in our rooms.

  “The how’s easy enough, and we should never ask who. You can’t tell what you don’t know.”

  “Why, then,” said Alice. “It’s the why that matters.”

  “I’ve been assigned to a new off-campus project,” volunteered Maria. “Some textile mill up in the woods near Aruanā. I’ll be the On-Site Accountant.”

  “Me too,” said Alice. “End-to-End QA/QC Manager.”

  “Inventory Manager,” said Dolores.

  “Warehouse Ops Tech,” answered Katrina.

  “PSM,” concluded Jose. “My first independent command. And now we know why we’re here.”

  “What do you mean?” frowned Katrina.

  “Artists,” thought Maria. “Slow on the uptake.”

  “Our job is to divert product,” explained Jose. “Or else precursor or intermediate items.”

  “Product,” replied Alice. “Certainly product.”

  “Product?” asked Katrina incredulously, “Clothes? Why should we risk our lives to divert clothes?”

  “Don’t know,” said Jose. “But I know it’ll hurt the bastards bad. Real bad. I’d die for that.”

  “Not ordinary clothes,” said Alice. “It’s a specialty mill. I saw the layout. They’re not putting in any Tailors at all. Final assembly is too complex for that. The product will be military ponchos. Invisibility cloaks, for the Federales.”

  “Not just for the Federales,” smiled Maria.

  “No,” answered Jose, breaking into a toothy grin, “not just for them. We’ll make sure of that.”

  “But… for whom?” stuttered Dolores. “Who else is there but the Federales and the Zin and our Ministry Security Forces?”

  “Don’t know,” shrugged Jose, “Don’t care. He’s a Real Threat outside the wire. That’s all I been told.
<
br />   “They gave me a sixty-man reinforced platoon to keep him out. Six machineguns. A full complement of Zin rifles, not government lasers. A pair of UAVs, with rockets. Sensor goggles for everyone. Secure radios. A shitload of concertina. And mines. Real, military-grade mines, not improv. Two boxes of bouncies and eight boxes of toe poppers.

  “Promised me some engineers with an earthmover and an earth block press. Told me to dig in like it’s the second coming of the Collapse. They take him real serious up in the head shed, whoever he is.

  “Enemy of my enemy’s my friend.”

  “I’m sure we’ll be contacted in due course,” concluded Alice. “Jose is right. The less we know, the better.”

  Maria’s mouth was suddenly dry.

  “They tortured Carmen Denero to death,” she thought. “And all of her friends. Ninety-eight people. Burned them and cut them to pieces. Fed them alive to the Zin.”

  Her knees were shaking again. Her stomach was a little churning ball. Any second now, she might throw up.

  “Fuck!” growled Alice. “No more pills and no more crying into our damned pillows! I’m through being a victim. They must pay!

  “I’m in!” she said, extending her hand. “Who’s with me?”

  This close, Maria could see that Alice was trembling, too. Her whole body. Shivering, tip to toe.

  “Yeah,” rumbled Jose as his massive paw covered Alice’s delicate little hand. “Motherfuckers gonna pay!”

  There was no backing out, thought Maria. Too much had already been said. If she refused now, she was dead meat. Lieutenant Jose wouldn’t even bother with his gun. He’d just break her neck, so he wouldn’t have to account for the missing ammunition. Either that, or strangle her. Alice would help hide the body, if she had to. No one would find her down here. Probably for years.

  Across from her, she could see the same realization in Katrina’s eyes.

  Katrina and Dolores were the weak links, thought Maria. They’d had it worst. They were the most damaged. But they were vital to the mission.

  She caught herself on that word.

  “Mission,” she thought. “Yes, dammit, mission!”

  This was war, and she was a soldier, whether she bloody liked it or not.