by S. A. Tholin
"Besides the basic package, it's up to each soldier which augments to get. Most get the retinal implants. They translate signals and data into optics - basically, creating a visual user interface."
"And turn your eyes silver."
Lucklaw scoffed. "That's a cosmetic function, part of the basic package. Officially, it's to signal to others that you're busy, but really, it's so that your commanding officer can chew you out if he catches you playing around without permission. Easy to mod out, but not worth the world of pain if you're caught."
"So what do you see, exactly?"
"Depends on the set-up. The standard is just a basic text overlay, but I've got graphic immersion augments capable of interpreting the data any number of ways. Most people can't handle the full VR experience, though. Take the rest of the team, for example - even when they're only using the basic HUD, they still prefer to project it to their visors or external computers."
"I think I understand why. Too much information?"
"Yeah. The human mind isn't cut out to handle it - not just mentally, but physically. The strain raises your blood pressure, and if it's bad enough, it can actually make you sick. I can see you, I can see the Ever Onward's systems and my own, and I'm also watching through the drone's cameras and the commander's visual augments. I'm talking to you while listening to the team channel, as well as the RebEarth channel. No joke, it's making me dizzy - and I'm used to this sort of set up. Shit, when I was in high school, I'd bypass the school firewalls to multi-box raid parties and watch movies, all while paying attention in class. My mind is used to stretching."
"It sounds exhausting."
"Sure, but it's better than the alternative. I get real itchy if I haven't got at least two or three things running. Don't know how some people manage without. The commander, for instance. It's not like I'm spying, but the network's right there and during downtime, I sometimes take a peek at the activity logs. Hopewell's just like me - we even play the same games. Rhys - stars, trust me, you do not want to see his browsing history. But the commander? Sometimes he's not doing anything. Like, the line's completely dead. What the hell's that all about?"
"It's called thinking. Daydreaming. Just letting your mind wander can be a pretty great way to pass time."
"Sure, you keep telling yourself that, but believe me, you don't know what you're missing."
"Neither do you, kid." Duncan nodded towards the computer monitors. "She's onto you."
Lucklaw swore, then went silent, hands twitching nervously.
"Nothing like multi-boxing computer games, is it? Out here, you've got the wind in your back, the static on your skin, and twenty RebEarth men who'll figure out something's wrong any second. The next bullet coming this way will be coming for you."
"Duncan!" Joy hissed, incredulous at the man's behaviour. He'd never been exactly stable, but this was beyond unpleasant. It was suicidal.
"Shut up," Lucklaw said, opening his visor to wipe sweat from his face. "Both of you. Just..." He trailed off as his eyes went silvery blank.
"She's an arc ship," Duncan said. "Old, but as clever as they come. Piggy-backing on my chip? She sniffed that out faster than a bloodhound; just took her a minute to decide what to do about it. Excision, I imagine, like you do to any tumour. And now that she's got your scent, she's not letting you back in."
"Don't listen to him. You've got this, Lucklaw."
"I have to. I told the commander -" The young corporal winced, hunching his shoulders. A drop of blood welled from one of his nostrils.
"Lucklaw!" She took his hand, held it tight, and his eyes flickered from silver to anxious blue. "Take it easy. You've got a hundred years on this ship. I know you can do it."
"Of course." Some of his confidence returned, but when he touched his nose and saw the blood, his lips twitched, and she knew he was afraid. "If I had a couple of hours, but we don't. The RebEarthers -"
"You could drop the block on my h-chip. Let me open the system for you." Duncan sounded calm, almost disinterested, but a tremor of eagerness ran underneath the still surface.
Lucklaw opened his visor to wipe the blood from his nose. "All right. Get up and get over here. No sudden movements. And stay in the light."
"Are you sure about this, Lucklaw? What if he warns the RebEarthers somehow?"
"I'll only drop the block for a few seconds. And if you try anything, don't think I'll hesitate to shoot you. You hear me, Duncan?"
"I hear you," Duncan mumbled as he fell to his knees before the computer. His fingers swept across the screen, bringing up the virtual keyboard.
A few seconds passed, and then more than a few seconds. When it got to about a minute, Joy couldn't stand being quiet anymore. "Is it working?"
"Yeah. Starting the transfer now; you're about to be promoted to chief of security. It should..." Lucklaw trailed off, tilting his head slightly. His eyes were bright as silver pennies. "What? What is that..."
"Lucklaw?"
Groaning, Lucklaw stumbled backwards, hands pressed to his eyes. Over by the computers, Duncan leaned back, smiling.
"Are you all right?" Joy knelt by the corporal. Blood dripped from his nose, and she placed her hand on his cheek, skin against skin to anchor him to the physical, to draw his overworked mind back to the real world.
"Better than he'll be when I've got this shit out of my system. A data dump; more than I was prepared for, but not more than I can handle."
"A good distraction, though, don't you think?" Duncan said.
Lucklaw's eyes opened wide, and he reached for his sidearm. He pulled it from his holster and dropped it as a jolt went through his body. He stiffened and fell backwards, twitching in the dust. Dark blood poured from his nose, and when he opened his mouth, a bubble of spittle grew and grew until it popped.
Duncan casually brushed dust from his hands and began to type again.
"Duncan!" Joy turned Lucklaw's head sideways, afraid that he might choke. The corporal was unresponsive, all colour drained from his face. His legs kicked chaotic patterns in the dust. "Stop this! You're hurting him."
"Hurting him?" Duncan stood and walked over to them. He plucked Lucklaw's sidearm from the ground, weighing it in his hands. "I doubt that. Not yet, at any rate." He aimed the gun at the corporal's unprotected face, and Joy instinctively leaned over Lucklaw, shielding him with her body.
"How does it feel to be beaten by a primitive relic, you arrogant little shit? If you'd paid attention in history class, you might've known that Hierochloe was a biomedical company, and if you were half so clever as you think you are, you might've figured out what the 'h' in h-chip stands for. Now, the system you're running, yeah, it's more sophisticated and it might have the Primaterre logo plastered all over it, but its skeleton is based on Hierochloe software. A century's worth of devs and admins have left their marks, all right, but for all the flesh and muscle they've added to the code, its bones are old. And guess who helped create those bones? Guess who slaved away for years knitting them together?" Duncan smiled unpleasantly. "When I slipped spyware into the components I made for Joy, I didn't really expect it to net anything useful. They'll find it, I figured, no matter how well I disguised it. But you didn't, and when you built your beacon I was with you every step of the way. Well, as often as the atmosphere allowed data to be sent through to Nexus, that is. I sniffed out as much as I could about your systems, and once I recognised my own baby in there, I built a battering ram. Reckoned it might come in handy in case the Ever Onward didn't pan out."
In Joy's arms, Lucklaw made a strange wheezing sound. His fingers dug through dust, clawing at glass. She held him tight and looked up at Duncan.
"You don't need to do this. They're going to help us. They're good people."
"Wake up, Joy. Let me tell you a story. It's about the Feehans, both of whom I think you've met. Gaia's buried over there. Don't know what became of her brother Gaius, but I think you know, and by the look on your face, I'm going to guess it was nasty. Do you know why the
y were here? Did your Primo friends tell you that?"
"They're criminals. Terrorists."
"In the end, maybe, but none of us start out the way we end, do we? So listen, Joy, and then we'll see if you'll still be cradling the sore loser."
24. Joy
The Feehans, Duncan said, had been born on Hypatia. A nice world, by all accounts, as rich in resources as it was in natural beauty. But what had made Hypatia so wealthy also attracted the envy of others, and for the duration of the colony's five-hundred-year history, the Hypatians had struggled to keep what was theirs.
"And for five hundred years they managed, until one day Primaterre ships showed up in orbit and declared via planet-wide transmission that Hypatia was henceforth part of their territory. Now, Gaius and Gaia - not their birth names, but monikers adopted after they found faith - they were only children. Too young to understand, but old enough to feel the fear. Their parents were optimistic, initially, because other planets had flourished after annexation, and what difference does it really make who's in charge? One government is much like any other, right?"
Duncan paused to glance at the monitors. Somehow, he'd linked them to Cassimer's body cam. The feed showed white corridors, interspersed with glimpses of Rhys, but all Joy could really tell was that they were heading deeper into the Ever Onward - deeper and farther in the wrong direction.
"Unfortunately for the Feehans and the rest of Hypatia's eight million strong population, the Primaterre didn't have annexation in mind. Hypatia wasn't to be subsumed into the Protectorate, but to become Primaterre land. For that to happen, the planet had to be purged."
"Purged?"
"The first year, they strongly encouraged the population to leave. Some did, but most stayed. Home is home, after all. The Feehans, they could trace their family line back to the arc ship that built the Cascade in their system. After generations of men and women who had given Hypatia their all, the world was more than home to the Feehans - it was part of their DNA. Gaia never talked about it much, but Gaius told me about his family's bakery, about the flat-spined cacti that bloomed white once every five summers, and how crisp the air was when the north-easterly gale blew in over the salt flats. He said he sometimes wakes from dreams and the smell is so strong that he could swear he was back on Hypatia. That ever happen to you?"
Every breath she took was a reminder of Mars, the pain in her chest a gift from the red planet. Mars was comfortable familiarity, the backdrop of all her memories, but while its dust was in her lungs and in her dreams, it was not in her blood. She shook her head.
"Me either. How could it, when all I ever did was shuttle between apartment and office, never stopping to feel the earth between my fingers? I envy the Feehans their home; their connection, and I understand why they couldn't give it up." He sighed, looking over at Gaia's shallow grave.
"The second year, the Primaterre ships landed. Evacuation orders were transmitted to each sector of the colony. There were planets in Protectorate space willing to take the displaced in, the Primaterre said, to make them citizens and give them new lives. Most of the government officials left then, and society started to break down. There were riots, looting, killing in the streets. The Primaterre could've done something, could've tried to put out the fires, but they just stood back and watched. Suppose they thought their job would be made easier if Hypatia imploded.
"The Feehans stayed put, even after their oldest son was killed by bandits. But then the Primaterre purge entered its third year and soldiers were dispatched to escort people onto evacuation ships. When the soldiers knocked on the Feehans' neighbour's door and he refused to comply, he and his entire family were gunned down. Gaius told me he saw it happen through the shutters on his bedroom window, a glimpse of muzzle flashes and blood, before his mother picked him up and the family fled into the city. They spent the next year of their lives on the run, hunted like criminals, barely surviving. Then the purge entered its fourth year, and that's when things really got bad."
"Duncan," she pleaded. Lucklaw's breathing was ragged and irregular, coating his lips in yellow froth. She tried to clear his air passage, but if Duncan didn't stop soon, she was afraid the corporal might die. She didn't want that, no, not at all, and she stroked his face, wiped blood from his nose and whispered to him to come back to her. "I don't want to hear this."
"Sorry Joy, but I think you need to. The Primaterre forces withdrew. Gaius and Gaia were happy to see the grey ships go, but their parents knew better. They took their children into the underground and made them wear gas masks. Gaius didn't like the masks - they reminded him of the faces of the monsters he imagined living under his bed, but when he tried to remove his mask, his father gave him a beating so severe he could barely walk the next day. Gaius was only seven, and at first, he couldn't understand why his father had treated him so cruelly. But then people started dying. The Primaterre had unleashed a virus on Hypatia, so deadly that there was no cure - only prevention."
Just like they had done on Earth - but the people of Earth had been possessed. The virus had been a kindness, a mercy... hadn't it? Doubt made her heart skip a beat.
"Still the remaining people of Hypatia - now assisted by RebEarth forces - wouldn't let go, and that's when the soldiers returned. Giants in metal armour, Gaius said, falling from the skies in swarms."
Ten seconds of falling through smoke, my visor spattered with plasma from evaporating enemy fire, electricity flaring as the active protection field diverted missiles, falling towards what looked like an open volcano.
Cassimer's words echoed in her mind. Had he been one of the cataphracts on Hypatia? Considering Gaius Feehan's age, the purge must've taken place maybe fifteen years ago, when Cassimer himself had been barely more than a boy. One boy, falling through fire and smoke, to kill another boy.
"Gaius's father had intended to join the resistance, but then his wife fell pregnant. Maybe it was the beauty of such a miracle in the middle of a war zone that made Mr Feehan reconsider his stance, or maybe it was the fact that every time his wife removed her gasmask to throw up, she risked viral infection. Gaius never found out, and it doesn't really matter. What matters is that Mr Feehan led his family through the blazing ruins of the city to a Primaterre landing zone, waving a white flag. I think he must've realised that he would never survive it, sacrificing himself for his family - but the Primaterre forces opened fire on sight, indiscriminately and mercilessly.
"Gaius and Gaia ran, hand in hand, through fire and destruction. They would've died there, but for the RebEarth forces arriving on the scene. They killed the Primaterre and took the children in. Saved them and showed them the way. Told them that one day, they might have revenge for Hypatia. That one day, they might win her back."
Duncan scuffed the dusty ground with his boot. "And now here they lie, so very far from home."
"Anybody can tell a story, Duncan. All I know is that these men, these Primaterre soldiers, have treated me more kindly than anyone else on Cato. More kindly than you, Duncan."
"They keep you in chains out of kindness?"
"It's for my own safety, to stop demons -"
"Ah, and there we go. Demons. Come on, Joy. I know how you like to entertain silly notions about ghosts and goblins but I also know that's all it is: entertainment. Seasoning to spice up a dull life. What else did you have going for you, really? A brother, who was increasingly busy with his own much more interesting life. A tiny apartment on the wrong side of town and a dead-end career. If it weren't for your condition, I expect you'd have filled that apartment from floor to ceiling with cats. Anything to keep from staring your bleak future in the eye, am I right?"
"Fuck you, Duncan."
"And I thought you were a nice girl." Duncan tapped the keyboard and his manacles whirred open. "Much better. Now then, before his suit's defences get him back on his feet, if you would step away from the poor outwitted fool, Joy..."
"Put the gun down, Duncan. It's not too late for you."
"Nor for you
. There's still a seat on the RebEarth ship reserved in your name."
"Shoot this man and you'll never see that ship. The commander will kill you -"
"No, he won't. The idiot you're protecting left his systems not only wide-open, but linked to his teammates. I had a little look-see at all the fun functions, but haven't decided what to do yet. What do you think, Joy? An overdose of sedatives? Or maybe stimulants, to make their hearts burst before they even know something's wrong."
"I think you should put the gun down and surrender. We can still go home, all of us. You, me, Voirrey - and all the sleepers."
"You still don't get it. You're not a Primaterre citizen, Joy, which makes you worth less than the dirt we stand on. They will never help you, will never let you set foot on a Primaterre ship, let alone in Primaterre space. They'll use you and chain you and if you are lucky, they'll just abandon you on Cato."
Lucklaw's breath was stronger and more regular now, but his eyes were blank and unseeing. Letting him go would be the easiest thing in the world, but good or evil, right or wrong, it didn't matter who the Primaterre or RebEarth were. She knew who she was.
"I won't let you kill him."
"You'd sacrifice my life for the life of a stranger?"
"Nobody needs to die." There was the taste of a lie in those words, because she had no idea how Cassimer would react. Would he be the calm and collected commander ready to see reason, or would he be the commander who cut off heads?
"You think they'll take mercy on me?" He rolled back his left sleeve. A phoenix, in brutal cubist ink, spread its plumage from wrist to elbow. "I'm committed, Joy. Committed and condemned." He laughed, but tears glistened in the corners of his eyes.
"Duncan..." She stood, careful to place herself between him and Lucklaw, and held her hands out. Sympathetic, understanding, compassionate.
He drew a ragged breath, stepping closer, his free hand moving to brush hair from her face. She let him touch her, let him run oily fingers down her cheek, and then she grabbed the gun, wrenching it from his hand.
