Darkside 1

by Aaron K Carter

  “Captain Thorne, I thought you were still down at basic,” Stg. Wilde says, smiling at little at the sight of me.

  “I was---I am,” I say as we walk into the DFAC together, behind the last group of scurrying cadets. They are eating like wild things, and my own stomach turns at the familiar smell of processed food. “I’m still not cleared for flight yet so I’m teaching basic for a few more months. But I thought I’d come, visit you—all here---see how things are---you know---warn you about something,” I finally spit out the last bit, looking away awkwardly. I feel stupid I never should have come here.

  “What?” she asks, laughing a little.

  “Ah---you’ve got one of my Spacemen---who tested up---in your flight, don’t you---scrawny little underfed thing that uses big words, only drinks milk, blue eyes, name’s Card?” I ask, my voice tripping. I really should not be doing this. I never should have come here this is stupid of me. just let it go. Let him go. I can’t. I already know I can’t my feet won’t carry me away.

  “Yes, he’s my flight leader, in fact, he’s quite bright,” she says, frowning at my nervousness. “one of our best, I’d say.”

  “Yes, yes, that’s the thing, definitely, he’s brilliant---but you must understand a dark cloud follows that boy. Things are going to start happening, here, strange and terrible things----he’ll never be remotely responsible, never be involved, never be implicated, but you must believe me, it’s him. a strange, evil walks with him,” I say, desperately. There I’ve said it. it’s over, I’ve warned her. I’ve done my bit for the fate of the universe. I relax a little at having finally said it.

  “What?” she almost laughs. She thinks I’m joking. I’m not.

  “Don’t get me wrong, he’s probably the best Spaceman we’ll ever have. he’ll probably save us all one day---he’s cleverer by far than the rest of them put together, I don’t deny that. We’re lucky to have him, he’s amazing his mind is a sharp and fast as one of our computers, yet he’s more powerful than a machine he can improvise, create, adjust, he’s astounding. But for such a gift, humanity must pay a terrible price, and that price is the soul of Titus Card,” I say, taking her hand then thinking better of it. my own hand is shaking.

  “James have you----”

  “I only tell you because I care about you---I care about this Space Force---and I don’t want anything to happen---please, just take care with him, how you handle him---please?” I beg.

  “You’re talking nonsense, have you been drinking?” she asks, her eyes concerned.

  “No, God no---I know I am, just remember what I’ve said,” I plead.

  “Stay a few days, if you’re concerned---but, go to your barracks now, please,” she says, kindly. She thinks I’m drunk or out of my mind. well, I feel out of my mind.

  “I’ve not been drinking, I promise you,” she doesn’t believe me, I can tell, “Let me have a word with him, please, just let me see him.”

  “I think it would be best if you went to your quarters now, you can talk to him tomorrow,” she says, still looking at me with concern. She doesn’t believe me. It’s all right. She’ll understand someday. Or not. I pray not. I pray every night I’m terribly, terribly wrong.

  “Who’s that talking to Wilde?” I ask. Titus, Logan, and a girl I know from the Academy, Tsegi, and I are sitting together. We don’t have tight dinners so we can talk, quietly.

  “My old drill instructor, Thorn,” Titus says, drinking from one of his glasses of milk. He always gets exactly three glasses of milk. Which he drinks, slowly. unless there is some sort of cookie or biscuit available he never eats anything. It’s actually very disgusting to watch after a while.

  “What would he be doing here?” Logan asks.

  “I suspect it’s to do with me, he wasn’t fond of me,” Titus says, unconcernedly.

  “Why though?” I ask Titus, he must have a reason to think it.

  “He’s probably just here on business,” Tsegi says.

  “No, he’s coming over here now, Tom helps King make his bed tonight and changes into his PT things, all right?” Titus says, hurriedly standing at attention as the Captain comes up.

  “I can dress,” Logan hisses.

  “Actually, I have empirical evidence that you can’t.”

  “Cadet Card, come with me,” Thorne says, motioning for me to follow him.

  I obey, with an emotionless, “Yes, sir.”

  He leads out of the DFAC and out onto the now-empty drill pad. The night is beginning to fall and I can still hear the clamor of clinking dishes as cadets hungrily eat while ostensibly making as little polyphloisboian as possible.

  “At ease,” he says, stopping and turning to face me. then he too goes to at ease. “How are you settling in?”

  “Sir, quite well,” I say, revealing nothing. feels guilty. He thinks I blame him for my imprisonment. I don’t. I blame him for existing.

  “Good, that’s ... ah ... good,” he says, awkwardly. “I’m sure you ‘ll do well---fit in here, with all the smart ones, eh?”

  “Yes, sir,” I say. I give him nothing else.

  Why won’t he give me anything else? What have done to him? I’m trying, just give me some emotion something real.

  “Do you like it here?” I ask.

  “Yes, sir,” he says, his eyes still straight forward like they should be but I’ve put him at ease.

  “Do you miss home, much? I’m just asking sometimes----I mean I’m not your instructor anymore---I know---it can get lonely here, you know. with nobody to talk to and you’re going to training twice as long as everyone else---inadvertently, I just wanted to make sure you were keeping well,” I say, kindly. Please. Please be a sixteen-year-old boy. Smile a little. Tell me you miss your mum. Give me a little flicker of the child I know you are.

  I give him nothing he doesn’t deserve it.

  “No, sir, I am quite well,” he says, flatly.

  “That’s good, good, I’m glad, you know, I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself I thought you would---you’re a flight leader, Wilde says, that’s fantastic, I’m glad for you,” I say, haltingly. I don’t even remember why I thought it was a good idea to come out here. I don’t remember what I thought I’d get done by talking to him. but something in me makes me want to try. Try to reach him. Try to do something to stop it. What is it? this great unforeseeable it. I can feel it. but I can’t stop it from coming yet I feel like I must try. somehow this boy is the key though I don’t know-how. if he’ll save us or condemn us or some combination of both.

  “Thank you, sir,” he says, still emotionless.

  “You’re welcome I ah----” what else to say why am I even here?

  What on Kepler is he doing? He’s acting drunk I can smell it on him. alcohol. The one time in my memory that I saw my father, he smelled like that.

  Just say it you’re all the way here you’re standing out here in the dark with him just try. “I know it can get lonely sometimes---especially for someone like you since you’re cleverer than the rest. And I want you to know that however, I may have treated you in basic---that’s what we do it’s what we do to everybody it’s not really what we think it’s---it’s just a thing it’s not us----I want you to know that I think you’re a great Spaceman. And that you’ll be a great Spaceman. But I just want you to---to try for me---don’t get so wrapped up in being a Spaceman, that you forget to be a great man as well. because you can be. I believe you can be. and I think that that’s more overwhelming---that part will be harder for you than anything else. but I wanted to tell you that I see that in you and I want you to try.”

  Really? Do you now? why is this? Because he thinks I’m clever? No. oh no. because he knows I’m clever. He knows I’m clever now he’s seen my test scores so I’m a clever little thing so now he’s being nice to me. why? Does he want my affection? Since I’m worthy of it now because I’m smart so I get to be one of the boys? Not before. Not when he walked down the line. Not when he looked at me when I lined up with all the others my r
ack perfect and my clothes perfect and I was standing so straight and neat. No. not then. I was just one of them. I was a stupid little kid like the rest of them. nobody worthy of praise nobody worthy of any attention. But now I’m clever. So now I’m interested now you want to be a father to me.

  Well, fuck that.

  My father thought the same thing. He thought I was an annoying little child. He thought I was a waste of space a waste of money. Well, now I’m not. now I’m not just one among the rest. Now they know who I am. so now I’m interesting. Now oh now I get it. now you give it to me freely. Affection. So sparsely given among men, women too though they’re trained to be kinder or are in their nature. Like Wilde, she smiled at me. like my sister she used to smile at me didn’t she? No not the men. Not until I prove I’m one of them. well fine. so be it.

  You didn’t want me to play your game before. Not when you thought I was just a boy. Then you weren’t interested in me. but now you are. Because you know half of me, in that you know I’m clever. Well, I’m different from you. I have my own game. And it’s better. And it’s more fun for me. and I really don’t care about you now, do I? Why should I? because spoke kindly to me now? You didn’t before. So I already don’t care. You lost me before you even knew what I was worth to lose. Just like my mother. she slapped me when I was little. Once she tied up my hands so I wouldn’t put them to my head as I do. because she didn’t want anyone to think I was retarded. well, I’m not. they should wait they should see that and if they don’t I don’t care. She lost me back then. I’ll never speak to her again and I don’t care. Because she didn’t care then. So I don’t know. that’s how my game is played. It’s different from their game I’ll admit. I don’t want to play though. I thought I would. It’s a little depressing really. I thought I would be like them. I thought I’d want to be like them. Thorne, Ebbel. I thought they’d see how clever I was and then I’d have fun and get to be just like them. but I’m not. I don’t. I’m still different.

  And now it just makes me sick. Him talking to me him looking at me. I’m different from you. I want to scream. I’m different from you. He’s repulsive to me now. he’s standing there waiting. Ready to let me in. but I don’t want to come in. I’ll stay out here in the cold. it’s all right I’m used to it now. I’m different from you.

  But I don’t say any of that. It’s against the rules of my game.

  “Titus?” I ask, gently, his face is twitching, ever so slightly, but he’s motionless and he doesn’t make a sound.

  “Yes, sir?” He asks.

  “All right, well, go on now---about your duties,” I say, helplessly. He’s not letting me reach him. he heard it at least. At least it was there. at least I said it. I said something I did something. “I just wanted to see, that you’re doing well.” I leave before he can give me the appropriate greeting. He’s still the same. Eyes dead to the world. He’s lost to us now.

  and we’re the ones who lost him.

  and we’ll be the ones who have to deal with what we find.

  I am relieved Thorne leaves. I take a deep breath. It took a lot not to say all of that. it took more than I expected. I sigh. I wanted to answer him that is what disturbs me. I wanted to believe what isn’t true. I wanted to break the rules. my rules are better. My rules keep me safe. My rules are true. his aren’t. they break and they hurt and people leave and people die. And fathers walk out on mothers and six hungry children and sisters lay dead and cold in alleys and nights are cold and dark. And so alone and the only thing that stays the only thing that is constant is your own mind and what’s in and that’s always mine and it’s always free and true and always that peace can be found down there somewhere within my own head.

  I straighten a little and turn to go back inside. Tom will be in there. and I didn’t finish my milk. I want to go back in. and I want to ask her if she wants to go and use the simulators tonight and watch her laugh as we stagger out legs jelly and eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep. Even if it isn’t real and won’t last it is nice. And I like it and I like her and I want it and I want her. even if it won’t last. Even if I know it won’t even happen I give in and I want it just for a second.

  “Cadet Card, you are to spend the night in the brig,” hands clamp on my shoulders. Oh well, what did I tell you? on with the game.

  I wonder why they pulled Titus out? now he isn’t coming back and Ebbel is about to march us to our barracks for the night. For some reason, I feel dread. Titus wasn’t concerned. But then, he never seems worried. Yet he seemed to know why his old MTI was there. and he’d known he wasn’t coming back. I wonder what he is hiding.

  They march me to the brig, sealing their fate. I resist a smile as they click on the cameras. I’ve spent enough time in these places to memorize the loop. You see, they can’t watch everybody locked up in here, so, it’s on a loop. Depending on how many are locked up, that’s how long the loop is. Ten seconds per cell. Six people inside? ten seconds each, there will be fifty seconds before it’s back to you. Maximum is ten people before they need another guard and another monitor. I look at which cell they select. I’m cell 8. So before the image is back to me, I have 70 seconds to get out and in.

  I need 40.

  Ebel’s fate is sealed.

  First, I must find out where I am on the loop. Second, I wait for Ebbel to check that I’m behaving. Third, I kill him. Fourth I hide the body. fifth, I sleep.

  I don’t see how my plan will fail. That’s because I don’t take into account the infinite fatuousness of humanity in general, specifically my flight mates.

  The march back to the halls is tedious at best. Without Titus’ admittedly soothing voice calling cadence, Logan falls out of step every few minutes. Since I’m still guidon bearer, I don’t actually see it, but I most certainly hear it, or rather I hear Ebbel’s reaction to it. suffice to say we are all relieved to reach our barracks. Since we are officer cadets, we are mostly left to our own devices to get ready for bed and study and in Logan’s case cry. We are allowed to write home as well if we have a home to write to. not friends at the Academy, their network is sealed. Just home. parents. If you have them. I don’t.

  “I wonder what happened to Titus?” Tsegi says as she and I get our uniforms and Logan’s ready for tomorrow. As Titus predicted, he cannot dress.

  “He didn’t seem surprised,” I say, shrugging. He’s not the sort of person to worry about. that smile...like he’s always got five different plans to get himself out of the trouble he’s still thinking up.

  “I feel bad,” Logan says, sniffling a little. “He was only helping us march, then he got us out of trouble.”

  “Maybe it’s just a flight leader meeting,” I say, crawling into my bunk. I am tired all of a sudden and the miserable bunk seems awfully inviting.

  “Is Cadet Card your flight leader?” a girl comes up to us. she is still in SBUs and the planet pin on her lapel signifies her as the Kepler flight leader.

  “Yes, ma’am,” I say, standing back up. So he’s not at a flight leader meeting. Now we know.

  “I wanted to let you know---Cadet Card was taken to the Brig,” she says, and several rows of bunks are silent.

  “He was?” I ask. I immediately imagine him there, locked in a room, trapped with his own thoughts. Rubbing his head obsessively as he does. I shudder. He’s the last person who should be locked up like that.

  “Yes---I was receiving one of my cadets who was just getting out and I saw them lead him in. I thought you’d want to know,” she says.

  “But it was us that was wrong, not him, he was protecting us, that isn’t fair,” Logan says, sadly.

  “He did talk back,” Peter says, from his top bunk. There is the general mumbling of dissent from the other cadets.

  “I don’t know what he’s done, I just wanted to let you know,” she says. I remember her now, from the Academy, her name is Liesel. Liesel Stowe.

  “Thank you,” I say, sitting back down and trying not to think about Titus in there. or that I
wish he was here. the other mutter to each other, as they get out their tablets to write messages home. I don’t bother. I don’t have a home.

  Project 10ers, like myself, fall into a couple of categories, lucky, a bit loved, and forgotten. The lucky, their parents pay for visitation rights, sure they’re kept and bred like the rest of us, but their parents one or the other, comes around and gets them out for holidays and plays with them. the bit loved, their parents are poor and needed the money, but they give a damn that they had a kid, and once we reach sixteen, we can contact them, they can leave little messages on this webpage, and we can get their information and contact them. and they are all glad to see that their kid is alive and okay. Liesel is one of those. Her parents had no money but they were both glad enough to know she was alive and well, sent her the odd present or something, wanted to come to her graduation. Tsegi, only her mother left information. She had sent pictures, begged to meet her, wanted her to meet her other daughters, sent her a newer tablet so she could write home. That sort of thing. Me? I’m one of the forgotten. Nothing on the page. No contact information is given. Give us the money, we’ll give you the genetic material to have a kid who will be a Spaceman one day. and we don’t even want to know her name. Peter’s one of the forgotten as well. our parents, they forgot we existed.

  I didn’t think that was very nice. They were still my flesh and I was them. the least they could have done was check, make sure I was all right. Not much. Get a look at me. it was there fault I was here, after all. but no, they didn’t care I existed. Nobody did.