“I ran, Telan. I had this friend, Soren, his name was. He and I... we ran. We didn’t want to be soldiers anymore, hadn’t wanted to for a long time, only I was too proud to go home. Anyway … we ran, thinking we’d make it far enough away from the camp, and they’d stop looking for us. We got caught after two days. They whipped us bloody and forced us into the S-squads after that, and I never saw him again…. When I was done with my training, they assigned me to this unit that was supposed to do clean-up. Whenever a rebellion of some kind broke out in one of the Zoriner villages, they’d send in the soldiers first, and we’d go in after that to deal with the population and gather intelligence. I did that for a few years, and I hated it at first, but there wasn’t a thing I could do about it then, and after a while, I didn’t hate it as much anymore. It just became a habit. The guys with me, they weren’t monsters or anything, they didn’t torture anyone or kill babies–the sort of thing some of the other units were notorious for–but of course, the civilians in those places still hated us and I resented them for it. I had just turned nineteen when they moved me to a different unit and these guys…. Let’s just say they weren’t decent. The guy in charge was this huge bear of a man–Koger, his name was–but everyone called him Red. He’d tattoo circles for all his kills on the one arm and all the Zoriner girls he’d raped on the other. The ones he’d rape and kill afterward he’d do in red on both sides.” Lancer took a long swallow of the drink emptying the glass, his face flushed now, and refilled it again.
He seemed steady on his feet, but Telan was worried he’d get more drunk than he wanted to, so he ran into the kitchen, without asking permission for it, poured him a tall glass of water, and set it on the table in front of him.
Lancer nodded and sat down, taking a few sips of water now, and then looked at him for a long while and shook his head. “My second week with this new unit we got called into this tiny village, a few hundred people at the most. One of their people tried to blow up a research facility, they told us. The soldiers had all the people who were old enough to talk tied up in this field. They were kneeling in the dirt of the irrigation trench when we got there…. I remember thinking it strange how quiet it was. I could hear the wheat moving, dried golden heads swaying on their skinny stalks, and I remember thinking how pretty it was, that field, the way the light hit it, making it shimmer, how peaceful, if not for all the people kneeling there. I spotted this young girl with bruises on her arm and a deep cut on her cheek. She was sitting straight somehow, not like the others, as if she wasn’t tied up and kneeling in the dirt, and she stared at me openly with so much hatred, I wanted to run. We were each supposed to interrogate a few dozen of our choosing, so I walked carefully down the line, away from her, and collected mostly the older women and a few young boys and then her. Red stopped me and grabbed the girl roughly by the neck, snarling at me that he’ll do this one himself. I knew what it meant by then, what he would do to her, and something came over me, a rage like I never felt before. I lunged at him, and he must have seen something in my face because he backed off.
“I took them to this old wooden school building and went to untie them. I don’t remember deciding to do that. I think the way that girl looked at me changed something for me. I’d never felt so shitty about myself before then…. Anyway, when I was done taking the biters off, I told them to just stay quiet and that I would let them all go in a few hours. Told them that I needed for my men to believe I interrogated them first. I don’t know if they believed me, but nobody moved, except for that girl”—Lancer let out a soft laugh, his head shaking—”she walked right up to me and slapped me across the face. I was so stunned, I didn’t know what to do, so I stood there like an idiot, staring at her, and she kept hitting me until my whole face was burning. She stopped hitting me finally, and in a voice that was surprisingly soft, she told me how our people have been beating them and killing them and worse for so long now, they weren’t going to take it anymore. That everybody in that room lost somebody, and they were done. She wanted me to go and tell my people that, tell them that they would start indiscriminately killing our kind if we don’t just bloody leave them alone. I told her that they got the wrong man for this, that I was a grunt, a nobody, so it would be pointless. I’m not sure why I did that instead of running…. One of the young boys shouted that they should kill me if I was of no use to them, that it would make for one less of us for them to fight, and then they were all shouting it, only none of them moved towards me, waiting to see what the girl would say, I think.
“I was afraid that they’d kick me to death, that they’d make me die like a bloody dog, the way they were shouting, and I didn’t want to die like that. I reached into my belt and pulled out my gun, one of the old ones we always took with us and quickly handed it to her. Everybody was silent all of a sudden, so silent I could hear my own breathing. The girl didn’t move, just watched me, and stupidly, I asked for her name. It felt right to know the name of the girl who’d put a bullet through me. She stared at me with something other than hatred for the first time and told me her name was Idris, her hand wrapped tightly around my weapon. I remember thinking how well it fit her, the name, how it felt right on her, and then thinking how stupid I was for thinking about her bloody name, given everything else that was going on, you know? I told her where the safety was and how to take it off, and that all she had to do was point and press the trigger, but she just shook her head and asked if we could talk in private. I was still convinced she’d shoot me afterward, but I didn’t think I had any kind of choice about any of it. They patted me down and took all my weapons, and I let them, Telan. I didn’t even try to fight it….
“Anyway … she took me to this small classroom with only a tiny round window and a few tables and chairs in it. The tables were shiny with new green paint, and it struck me as strange that they’d do something like that, paint these little tables when so much else was wrong with everything there. I remember the smell of that paint still…. She had me sit on one of the little kid chairs and made me look at her, pointing my gun at me the whole time, and I could tell by the way she held it that she knew how to use it. She stood just a few meters away from me and told me all the things we did to them, to all the people she knew in this village, taking her time with the telling. I could see all of it from the way she talked, could picture the people we took from them, or tortured or raped, knew their names and how they were, their families…. I was so ashamed when she was done, I couldn’t look at her. I didn’t even care about the gun, that she could shoot me, I just couldn’t look at her anymore, but I could feel somehow that she was watching me and I couldn’t bear it. I put my head down and asked her to please just end it—”
“What did she do?” he asked.
Lancer’s eyes focused on the table in front of him, his breathing heavy. He sighed deeply, and when he lifted his eyes again, there were smile crinkles in the corners, as if this next memory was a pleasant one.
“She walked over to me and I stood, thinking she’d finally shoot me, and strangely, wanting her to, keeping my head down, and I felt her soft, warm hands on my face. I jumped, not expecting it, you know, and it embarrassed the hell out of me…. But she wouldn’t let me move away from her, just kept touching me, her hands so very gentle, touching me as if I were a little kid she was trying to comfort, whispering to me in that soft voice that it was all right, and that she could tell I wasn’t like that, wasn’t a monster, only I knew I was, felt like I was.
“I stood there, unable to move a muscle, feeling utterly broken. She put her arms around me and held me for the longest time, and I was so lost and so hurt, I let her. I remember the way her hair smelled–a crisp, grassy scent, nothing flowery in it, nothing that I thought a girl would smell like–but how that, too, fit her somehow. I’d never been with anyone before, and I didn’t dare touch her. And when she finally let go of me and I could speak again she asked me to tell her about my life and I surprised myself but doing it, by telling her everything, thin
gs I never told anyone but Soren before. She didn’t say a word through it, just watched me, looking at me like she could see through me. Maybe she could even then, I don’t know. ‘We are not so different, you and I,’ she’d said to me afterward, and I knew how she meant it, you know? And how bloody wrong we all were for so long, and it made me feel even more ashamed….
“I would have done anything for her to be right about me then, would have died ten times over just for her to not ever look at me the way she did in that field, but I couldn’t even muster the courage to thank her for comforting me or tell her how bloody sorry I was for all the things we did to them; things I did to them. I’d already learned by then that I wasn’t afraid to die, but there I was, petrified of the way this slim, young girl was looking at me. I think I felt even then that she was the only person who could truly know me and it scared me worse than anything…. That was your mother,” he said so very quietly, his voice breaking.
Lancer dropped his eyes, trying to get himself under control, and his voice was back to normal when he spoke again: “I stayed with them, couldn’t go back to my unit after that, and she protected me at first, made it all right for me to stay. They had all these tunnels we didn’t know about, so we hid there for a while, and then my people stopped looking for me, until after you were born. You know the rest of it.” He stood up, almost abruptly, and put his hands behind his back.
Telan stood too, not quite knowing how to wrap his head around all of it. He could picture this woman now, could almost hear her soft voice saying those words to him, but he couldn’t picture his father being out there like that, living in the tunnels with all those people who hated him. Couldn’t picture him going into those villages and torturing people, either, or maybe, doing what that other man did to their women, and he needed to know if he had, but he was too afraid to ask.
Lancer must have sensed it because he nodded to him strangely. “Whatever it is you need to ask me, kid, just ask,” he said sharply.
And he did then, asked him if he ever did any of those things the other men did, things Red did.
Lancer blanched. “Yes, Telan. I didn’t think of them as quite human, none of us did. And in part, I could see them torching that flier, with all the people on it—” he swallowed hard—”with my parents on it, and I was angry at all of them for it. But yes, I did some of those things. I never raped anyone, if that’s what you’re asking, but I did beat them, men and women, when they wouldn’t talk, all but the kids,” he said quickly and dropped his eyes.
Telan watched him swallow what little was left in his glass and set it down with a hollow thud and slowly walk around the table to where he was, stopping just a step away.
“Are you running? I won’t blame you if you run or just pretend that I don’t exist, couldn’t blame you for that. I won’t think any less of you for it either if it matters, but I need to know,” he asked quietly and he could see the shine in his eyes and he knew it wasn’t just from all the liquor he downed.
He took a step to him and Lancer froze, shaking his head, hands out in front of him, stopping him. “No, Telan. Just tell me,” he said sharply and dropped his hands, still looking at him, waiting.
“I’m not running,” he said, watching Lancer’s face relax a little. “I’m not going anywhere and I don’t hate you. I’m glad you told me, I truly am.” He quickly stepped to him and wrapped his arms around him.
Lancer was breathing hard, and he noted that he was keeping his hands in fists at his sides, so he stepped back, looking up at his face, and he watched the few tears escape from his tightly shut eyes and the effort he was making to hide it. “Please, don’t,” he whispered miserably, feeling every kind of guilty for it.
Lancer just shook his head at him softly and grabbed him by the head, pulling him in, whispering to him how sorry he was, for everything. And telling him how his mother truly was the best person he’d ever known, and that he never did love anyone after her; never could love anybody like that. Told him, too, how he had her voice and her gentleness and wisdom about him, and how he knew he should have told him all of this a long time ago, but he was too afraid he’d lose him if he had, and he was sorry for that.
“I’m not going anywhere, I’m not, I swear to you I’m not. I always tried to picture her in my head. You too, only I couldn’t ever get it right. I think I can now. I needed to know for that,” he said. “I’d rather not call you Lancer anymore if that’s all right,” he blurted out without thinking about it.
The man flinched and stared at him with fear in his eyes. “All right,” he finally said, his voice shaky.
He took him by the arm and told him softly that he was putting him to bed, and Lancer let him take him to his room and take his shoes and socks off. He watched him take off his shirt, not turning his back to him, and awkwardly climb in, and he knew what he was hiding, all the scars on him, scars he got to keep him safe.
He pulled the blanket over him, leaned in, and kissed him, the man looking afraid and fragile when he did that. “Good night, dad,” he whispered and ran out of the room, knowing that he had to give him space with his fear and all the hurt he felt for what he made him remember, and space to maybe dream of this girl again, the girl he wished didn’t die because of him.
Selena met him at the door of Loren’s place, and without asking, threw her arms around him, holding him close in that way she had. He would tell her about Idris someday, and maybe in some small way, it would make this woman he never knew more real in the retelling. But he couldn’t do it yet, not until he could picture her as she really was.
9
The Bully
Lancer, September 8, 2244, Reston.
He couldn’t breathe right for the longest time after Telan left. The kid kissing him goodnight and calling him ‘dad’ after everything he’d just told him damn near broke him. It was too close to what Idris did that day not to hurt, but it was a nice pain, and he didn’t mind that he’d cried in front of him.
So much in this boy reminded him of her lately. The way he was with everybody, gentle and patient, but he sensed something he couldn’t explain under all that was soft in him, a certain detached seriousness, a wariness that a kid that age shouldn’t have. He stood out, the way his mother did, and as much as he tried to make himself invisible, always hiding in the shadows and corners of places, people noticed him.
Riley told him that he was rather good at all the things he was training him in, great at some of them, like shooting, but that the other boys didn’t want to spar with him. He never shied away from a fight or did anything indecent, like some boys did where they’d keep punching after Riley stopped the fight or hit a boy where they weren’t supposed to, but it was getting harder and harder for him to find volunteers for this kid and it worried him. He didn’t have any friends either except for Selena, but they were more than friends, so it didn’t really count. And the kid never smiled, not even when Riley complimented him on something he did. He’d just nod his head, looking serious, grave almost, and keep going.
He went to watch them train the day after he told him about his mother. They were sparring out in the open, so he walked silently through the woods, hoping he could spy on them unnoticed for a while. He heard them before he saw them, a dozen boys making all sorts of noise. He crouched low and made the rest of the way over well off the trail, using the trees for cover. He knew these kids, helped train them before he got sick, all but one, a big blond kid he didn’t recognize.
He was in the dirt ring now, sparring with a boy much smaller than him. Jake, his name was, he remembered, a sweet, timid sort. The big kid had a smirk on his face he didn’t like as he circled the smaller boy. He moved like he knew what he was doing too, looking for an opening, Jake watching him warily and he could tell that he was afraid. The big kid lunged and jabbed Jake hard in the ribs. Jake doubled over and the big kid was on him, punching him in the stomach and on his face. Jake sprawled out in the grass, winded, gasping for air, the big boy standing over him
with his fist still raised. He was surprised Riley didn’t stop the fight and he noticed for the first time that he didn’t see Riley anywhere.
He was about to run out there and give this big bully a lesson he’d never forget when he saw Telan rush at the kid and ram his head into his chest. The boy staggered back a few steps, looking stunned, and then screamed at Telan that he’d kill him. Telan stood stock still, breathing hard, staring at the boy. Jake got up off the grass grunting, his hand pressed against his side, and he tried to get between them, but Telan shook his head, whispering something he couldn’t hear. Jake nodded just once and went to where the other boys were, watching them in silence now.
He wanted so desperately to go out there and save his son from what he knew would happen next, but he knew Telan would never forgive him for it if he had. He could see the rage on the big kid’s face, full-on rage, the kind he’d seen too many times not to know how to read.
The boy walked ever so slowly to Telan and stopped right in front of him. He was at least a head taller and quite a bit heavier. Lancer scooted closer to the edge of the ring and held his breath.
“So … you want to die, half-breed? Or do you want to run to mommy now? Go ahead, runt, run,” the kid said in a voice full of quiet, controlled menace, something he wasn’t accustomed to from someone so young.
Telan shook his head not saying a word, his face surprisingly calm, and in a flash, the boy was on him, punching him over and over again until Telan was on his knees.
The boy stepped back, grinning in that deliberate way he’d seen men who enjoy beating up on boys do.
Telan stood up, and Lancer could tell he was in pain by how he did that.
“Haven’t had enough?” the big boy snapped, sounding annoyed for the first time. He saw his shoulder move ever so slightly and then his right hand shot out at Telan’s face, only he ducked, the big kid teetering to the side, off-balance.
Alliance: The Complete Series (A Dystopian YA Box Set Books 1-5): Dystopian Sci Fi Thriller Page 82
