Imperial Edge

by Celinda Labrousse

  The fort wasn’t really a fort. It wasn’t much of anything. At some point in its life dad had used it as a hunting bluff back when he was a boy and the farm had been plagued with wild ors. But the ors heard had long since moved on. The bluff was a tree house when her eldest brother lived with them. He would use it to get away from all the chaos, as he liked to call it. One fateful afternoon the supports had given out and the whole thing toppled to the ground. Now it was a fort. Michael had spent considerable time constructing it. Gathering random sticks and stones to shore up the sides and make it whole. It kind of grew from there into a sprawling mess of things that provided little cover, but hours of entertainment.

  Branches tore at her hair and scraped her face. If the people that had killed her family were still here, they would have heard her and set up a trap. She didn’t care. She just needed to find someone, anyone, alive. Her sides heaved from all the running she’d been doing as she looked over the remains of what had once been the fort.

  It was a pile of smoking ash. The outline of a child blasted out of existence lay against an oak to her right. The curled up body of either her sister or her niece lay at her feet. The head was missing. There was no blood. Not even the smell of cooked meat remained. The only signs of death were the blast marks and the bodies.

  She struggled into what was left of the fort, desperate for a survivor. The embers still smoked, kept alive by the summer heat. The heat cut into her boots. Black smudges covered her hands, her face, her clothes as she searched for the remaining two children. She found them huddled together. Shot to pieces by blaster fire. The ruin around them their only protection.

  Miranda dropped to her knees. Uncontrollable sobs wracked her body. The ash burning holes in her dress. The pain was a small shadow to the ache that penetrated her every limb.

  That’s when she heard it. The soft crunch of feet on a wooded floor.

  She continued to cry, but it was much more controlled. All her fear senses were screaming ‘predator!’ at her. They had taken her family away. They would not take her without a fight. She stood up, grabbing the nearest thing she could use for a weapon.

  Dust swirled around her, landing on the edges of the air to her right. It clung to something that looked to Miranda like nothing at all. She swung. The smoldering tree branch struck gold.

  The soldier was taken off guard. She hit him square in the head. If he hadn’t been wearing his helmet she might have even knocked him out. She shouldn’t have been able to see him. But somehow she had. His suit flickered for a minute, the controls in the helmet fighting to stay intact. Then the camo unit zapped out, revealing the Ironside in all his glory.

  Miranda had read about them in school. Watched the holograms talk through all their impressive armor in agonizing detail. Colony families like hers were protected by the Ironsides. They were the backbone of the planetary troops that kept the rebels at bay. Their suits had two modes. Camo mode, which practically made them invisible; the armor actively blended the scenery around the suit into the reflection of the armor on the eyes. The second was marching whites like she was looking at now.

  Miranda stepped back into a batting pose. Legs bent at the knees, arms ready to swing the branch again. Their helmets were crazy expensive and she’d just damaged his. He would be out for her blood. A reclaimed helmet could buy a farm. Not that anyone she’d known was ever close enough to a battle to reclaim one. Still, it was the dream of every farm boy she’d ever known to get to see an Ironside. A helmet reclaim was like chasing the terraformed planet at the end of the galaxy. It happened, only enough to make people dream about it.

  The Ironside raised his hands in surrender.

  “I’m not here to hurt you,” he said. It came out garbled. His language filter device must have been damaged when she’d hit him. Those helmets were meant to take a mortal blast from a phase canon and keep moving. She must have hit it just right.

  Miranda heard a click to her left and sung around. She saw nothing, but the hair on the back of her neck stood up. Someone was there. Another Ironside. She just couldn’t see him.

  “It’s ok, Miss,” said the one she’d hit. “Just put down the stick and everything will be ok.”

  Miranda did as she was told. She was no match for two Ironsides. Not even if she’d had a phase weapon on her. This was an Imperial farm. There were no phase weapons for miles. The closest thing they had was a laser pistol Dad used to use to kill ors. She hadn’t thought to grab it when she’d went running after the kids. Now was a bit late.

  As soon as the stick touched the ground the first Ironside popped off his helmet with a click.

  “All clear,” the soldier called. Three other Ironsides stepped out into view. They seemed to melt in the air as if appearing out of the afternoon mist.

  “Rebels were spotted landing around here yesterday,” the Ironside said.

  “No,” Miranda said, shaking her head. “There was a fire suppression craft heading south. But that was yesterday.”

  “Sir, bodies are at least a day old,” one of the other Ironsides said.

  A day old. Miranda let that knowledge sink in. If she hadn’t gone after Oscar. If she hadn’t gotten lost in the ravine. Would she be just another one of the bodies they were cleaning up?

  “Miss, you said south?” asked her Ironside. He had black hair and blue green eyes that made his tan face look nice. Not as menacing as the cold white masks the helmet made of the others. He was the only one without his helmet on. They must really like it in those things, she thought.

  “Miss.” He bent low enough that they were eye to eye. She hadn’t answered him. Was he worried for her? An Ironside that cared about a poor farm girl. That was the start of galactic romance novels her older sister liked to read before she went off and got married.

  “Yes, south. Over the farm. Dad talked about fire coming. Pulled in my brother to help. We needed to save the farm.”

  The Ironside nodded.

  “Who did this?” Miranda asked.

  “Rebels.”

  “Why?” she asked.

  He shrugged.

  “Who knows why rebels do anything.”

  All the rage and fear that the shock of finding her family that way had held in check came tumbling out of her.

  “If you knew they were here why didn’t you protect my family?” she screamed as she pounded the one soildier’s uniform.

  “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he said into her ear he held her in a hug, letting her pound his back with empty fists until the rage and grief left her a hollow shell that crumpled to the forest floor.

  “Time to move out,” one of the others said.

  “Is this yours?” Another soldier held up Oscar by his antenna.

  “Oscar!” Miranda cried. The presence of the little pest renewed her strength. She snatched the droid out of the air and cradled him to her chest.

  “I caught him trying to penetrate our defense perimeter,” the soldier reported to the Ironside that had let her pound him. He looked silvery white, too, when the camo function was off. Like a mirror without an edge. It was hard to focus on any one of them.

  “Time to move,” her Ironside said. He let her go and slipped back in with the other troops, putting his helmet back on.

  “He could report you, you know,” said another Ironside. “Hitting a member of the military is a capital offense.” Miranda's eyes widened. Were they really going to report her?

  “Then I would have to explain to the entire command how I let a nothing of a girl land multiple strikes,” he told the other Ironside. His helmet moved up and down, scanning her from top to bottom. “You're not worth it,”

  Miranda’s cheeks turned fiery hot. She didn know if she wanted to hide or hit the man for real this time. She gripped Oscar instead and watch the Ironsides blend back into the trees as they switched the camo graphics back onto their suits until only her Ironside remained.

  “There’s a transport unit back at the farm house. If you hurry you mi
ght be able to hitch a ride with them into town.”

  She looked at the bodies of her family.

  “Cleanup crew’s been called. The new farm tenants have already been assigned.”

  “They’ll bury them?” she asked, knowing that he wouldn’t have an answer. Not really.

  “The bodies will be gone before nightfall. Best to get the ride. This isn’t your home anymore,” he said. He turned and blended into the forest with the rest of his unit.

  Chapter 5

  ‘This wasn’t her home anymore,’ he said. Those words penetrated her mind like a steel rod, blocking out all other thoughts. Her parents’ and brothers’ bodies weren’t even in the ground and the land that had housed them, the land that sustained them, that sustained the empire, wasn’t theirs any longer. It was already assigned to someone else. The new owners would take occupation within a month, or lose it themselves. That was the emperor's way. Replace and fill when gaps presented themselves. Focus on the living and not the dead. Why honor what could not hold onto life?

  It was these thoughts that bounced around in her brain on the walk back to the farmhouse. The house that was no longer her home. Someone else would call it home. Someone on an imperial waiting list. A married couple who got bumped to the top because her family had been bumped off by rebels. It was these thoughts that rolled around on the back of her tongue as she packed her few positions into Oscar’s cargo space. A doll that her sister had made for her when the one they shared tore. Her second dress, the one she wore to church and socials. It was buttery yellow and a little short in the ankles, but it was better than nothing. The quilt her mother had sewn for her. There was nothing else in the house that was hers. Everything else was shared. Everything else would become their property.

  Even her mother’s wedding ring would become property of the state. The price of cleanup and reassignment.

  “Miss?” one of the cleanup crews asked as she came down the stairs. Miranda looked up at him. “We’re all done. You need to get on the transport if you want a ride into town.” It was less of a statement and more of an order. She couldn’t stay here. If the new family were onworlders, then they could be here in less than a day. Ready to bring the rest of the harvest in and stop the fire from taking the house. Until then, the barn and animals would remain in suspended animation.

  There was nothing for her here. Not even to hand the keys over. She took one last look at the house and her life, then she stepped into the transport van. It sped off as quick as the Ironsides had called it, taking her away from the only life she’d ever known.

  “So when will we be arriving in town?” she asked. The back of the van consisted of two long benches filled to the brim with random equipment. Test tubes, laser guns, jugs of chemicals and other things that Miranda couldn’t place. In between all of it sat two officers. To squeeze her in she had to move a black bag full of tools onto her lap. Otherwise she would have been standing.

  The bag was heavy. The weight of it cut off the circulation to her legs. She imagined that the thing was filled with lead weights. The kind her brothers used to use when fishing. She knew the town was far in a hover cart, but as the light from the split window across the top of the van faded to black she was beginning to wonder how far it was really.

  Neither of the men stirred. One snorted in his sleep. The other had a headset.

  “I have to pee,” she confessed. Unlike the soldiers, she wasn’t outfitted with a depository extermination unit. Neither of the men responded. She would just have to hold it.

  At some point the movement of the van must have lulled her to sleep because daylight streamed through the window. She rubbed her eyes.

  “We’re here,” said the first soldier. The other one nodded and opened the door. The urge to pee was way too high. All she cared about was getting to a restroom as fast as her legs could carry her. She bolted from the van, leaving her untalkative travel companions in her dust.

  In front of her was the largest building she’d ever seen. It rose into the sky, blotting out the sun. A tower of glass and metal shaped into a spiral, it gleamed like the diamond in her sister’s wedding ring, only much much bigger.

  She stopped on the steps and staired. She definitely wasn’t in the lowlands anymore. They’d taken her all the way to the closest thing Oreilly 13 had to a capital. Her mother had talked about the ocean city before. ‘Too many people,’ she’d said. Too many buildings. Too much of everything. But not details like this. Miranda didn’t know what to think. She closed her mouth and walked on. Her legs cramped up as she climbed the stairs to the entrance, but her bladder pushed her to the top. She wouldn’t be the country bumpkin that peed all over the building stairs.

  She forced herself to enter. It felt like being swallowed whole. This was a mechanical whale and she was but one of many victims it claimed. Inside she spotted a help desk.

  “Please. Restroom,” she asked the droid behind a screening desk. It was a large, ornate, carved stone and wood thing that jutted out at odd angles, cutting off people’s views around it. He pointed a metal hand to the left. She hobbled down the hallway. Doors marked with different offices and names both of people and what they did inclosed her on every side. Then thankfully she saw the restroom. She shuffled in.

  After relieving herself she made her way back to the main desk.

  “Where would I find information about reassimilation?” she asked. The machine behind the desk looked up from his input projection. His nametag read Derik.

  “Down the hall and to the right.” Derik looked back down. Miranda squared her shoulders, turned on her heels, and headed back down the hall she’d just run down.

  “You’ll need an appointment,” Derik shouted after her. She turned back to the desk.

  “How do I get one of those?” she asked. He turned his projections around so she could read it.

  “Type your name here,” he pointed to a block on a form. Miranda entered her name. He turned the projection back around, typed in a few other things and then they waited.

  “They will see you now.”

  Miranda sighed and turned back towards the hallway.

  “Third door on the right,” he said as an afterthought. She shot a smile back at him and walked back down the hallway for what she hoped was the last time.

  Behind the third door on the right was a small waiting room. A large projection screen. The door clicked closed behind her, leaving no trace that it had ever been.

  “Please put your hand on the pedestal,” chimed a friendly female voice. Miranda looked around for the pedestal. A solid metal thing that came up to her waist appeared to rise up from the middle of the floor. Flat on top, it was circular in the way a cylinder is round on the sides, but flat on the bottom. Aside from the pedestal, there were three chairs each in a corner of the room, making a kind of semi circle out of the small space. They were white with tall backs and oversized cushions. Each one had the same throw pillow in the same light blue print. It sat center between the three chairs.

  As she looked around she lost track of which way she’d come in. With no doors and no windows there was no way to remember. This scared some part of her, but she pushed it deep inside. Disappearing walls. Building stretching to the sky. People that sat at a desk and told you where to go. No wonder her mother didn’t say much about this place. It was so removed from their simple life on the farm that it made talking about it hard.

  “Please put your hand on the pedestal,” the voice chimed again, breaking into her rising panic. Its friendly female tone hit her with sweet sugar on her ears. Miranda surmised that it must be a recording. No person could keep that cheerful a tone the second time they had to give instructions like ‘put your hand on the pedestal’. Miranda moved to obey, then hesitated. She was unsure if following the instructions of a faceless sweet voice was the right thing to do.

  “Please put your hand on the pedestal,” it chimed again.

  Oscar beeped by her side.

  “Ok, ok, I’m put
ting my hand on the pedestal,” she said. She placed her right palm straight down on the pedestal. There was a light glow emanating from the top. It circled her hand for what felt like minutes. Miranda tried to pull away, but her hand was stuck. ‘Like flypaper,’ she thought.

  “Thank you,” said the female voice. The lights stopped and Miranda got her hand back. There was nothing like this in her education classes. Maybe pedestals and doorless rooms were a capital thing that most farm girls like her would never be allowed to witness. She should consider herself fortunate and not scared out of her whits.

  “Miranda Farmer. Daughter of Micah and Mary Farmer. M district of the colonial planet Oreilly 13. Please have a seat.” Miranda glared at the chairs. If she followed the voice’s instructions this time, would she remain trapped to the seat of her choice?

  “Miranda Farmer. Daughter of Micah and Mary Farmer. M district of the colonial planet Oreilly 13. Please have a seat.”

  Miranda sat. Oscar stayed glued to her leg. She tried to stand and found that thankfully she could.

  “Miranda Farmer. Daughter of Micah and Mary Farmer. M district of the colonial planet Oreilly 13. Please have a seat.”

  She sat again. The voice was boss, Miranda decided.

  A pair of lights appeared on either side of the walls. They started at the top and moved down the walls until they disappeared at the bottom. The movement was slow at first. Then it started to gain speed. Miranda felt as if she was being pressed by a giant hand down into her chair. She gripped the arms of the chair, her nails digging in for dear life.

  “Please God, save me!” she cried. Something went ‘ding.’ Everything stopped. The lights rested at the top of the room again, the pressure she’d been feeling instantly lifted. She took a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.

  A part of the wall became a door and slid away to reveal another room.

  “Miranda Farmer. Daughter of Micah and Mary Farmer. M district of the colonial planet Oreilly 13. Please exit. Thank you for choosing Riolu Transportation for your booking needs. Have a great day.”