In Evil Times

by Melinda Snodgrass

  “Citizens, League processing centers have been completed and we are ready to welcome you into the galactic family. Trade will soon be flowing, bringing with it microbes from distant worlds. In an effort to protect you everyone is required to be immunized. At this time you will also be issued your League IDs, which entitle you to medical care, housing and a basic income. Also government subsidies for families with children. Therefore all citizens will report to the nearest processing center beginning at 0800 on Thursday morning. Transport will be provided for those who lack the means and for any individuals needing assistance. We’re so happy to be welcoming you into our galactic family.”

  She finished the recording and it was sent to the troops who now controlled all means of communication on the planet.

  Boho had been listening and he gave her a hug after she set aside the headphone. “Beautifully done, my love.”

  “I know we have to trick them, but I wish we didn’t.” She sighed. “This is one group of people who aren’t going to love their empress.”

  20

  CONFISCATION

  Mercedes wanted a briefing on how the seizure would take place. Boho accompanied her when they returned to the planet since she no longer needed to hide the fact she was married. Mercedes had seen Amastris and wanted to see more of the planet so they chose a processing center near the smaller city of Pygela. It was also closer to the planet’s single ocean.

  The couple were met by Placement Administrator Marquez who oversaw the doctors, nurses, psychologists and female childcare experts who had arrived with the transport ships. He was an officious bureaucrat with a tappad under one arm, and despite the early hour—it was still pre-dawn—his grey suit was perfectly pressed.

  “Highness.” His bow was elegantly executed. “Consort.” A less deep bow to Boho, but still appropriately obsequious. “We are ready.”

  “Please take me through the process, administrator,” Mercedes asked.

  He bustled to a desk with an elaborate computer array manned by two data-entry techs. A pair of guards flanked the large desk. “The colonists will stop here first. Have their names, ages, sexes—well I guess that’s not actually necessary in this case, is it?” He tittered. “Really, whoever heard of anything so unnatural? Almost as bad as the Cara’ot. Anyway their information will be recorded and after that they’ll be issued ScoopRings, but they’ll only be able to download not upload. We want them to be able to dip into the web, entice the teenagers, but we don’t want the adults to be able to whine and complain.”

  “Our citizens know the assimilation policy,” Mercedes said.

  “True, but there’s a power to seeing a weeping woman talking about her stolen child. Makes policy seem very real. No sense upsetting our populace with sob stories.”

  “The sausage theory,” Boho offered.

  “Beg pardon, my lord?”

  “People like sausage, but they wouldn’t want to see it made.”

  “Oh yes.” Marquez laughed. “Quite so. Very droll.”

  “Could we continue?” Mercedes broke in.

  “Uh, yes, of course. Women without children or who have children over the age of ten will be directed to the right where they’ll receive their immunizations and be chipped.” He bustled over and touched the door as if they might not understand left and right. “After that they will be held for an orientation so there won’t be an opportunity to witness the confiscation.”

  “And how will that take place?” Mercedes asked.

  “Women with children aged ten and under will be directed to the left.” He minced to the other side of the room and touched that door. “They will also be immunized and chipped, but also administered a sedative to render both parties unconscious. The children will be transferred to the care of a nanny, taken to a shuttle and brought to a transport. The women will be kept unconscious until all the children have been removed.”

  “Won’t there be violence when they wake up and realize what’s happened?” Boho asked.

  “Oh yes, but that’s why we have the troops on hand and the children beyond their reach. There are always, regrettably, some deaths during a confiscation.”

  “Of just the adults, correct?” Mercedes asked. Her stomach felt a bit hollow and she was suddenly that five-year-old with her mommy telling her goodbye. What would it have been like if she hadn’t been able to have that moment? Would it have been better or worse?

  “Occasionally we lose a child, but that’s why we have such comprehensive teams in place to prevent just such a tragedy. These children are precious and we take our duties very seriously.”

  “I’m sure you do, Citizen Marquez. How long before the operation will be complete?”

  “Based on our initial census we hope to have this completed in nine hours.”

  “Long time to be held for an orientation,” Boho remarked.

  “There’s a lot of history for them to be shown, not to mention cultural and social mores. We’ll keep them busy, well fed and lightly drugged.”

  “Thank you, Administrator. You seem to have this nicely in hand,” Mercedes said formally. “My husband and I are going to take a hike and look at the surrounding area. I expect sunrise will be quite beautiful.”

  “It is indeed, Highness. The way the light shatters into colors on the glaciers is quite spectacular.”

  * * *

  Wrapped in a parka Mercedes stood on a snow-covered hill and surveyed the landscape. It was both bleak and breathtaking. In three directions jagged snow and glacier-covered peaks stretched to the cloud-streaked sky. A grey-green ocean seemed to be trying to tear away the rocky beach with a massive boom and splash followed by a sibilant hiss as the water withdrew, grumbling in frustration. The waves formed foam-capped peaks rising like liquid mountains. Any walk there would be treacherous given the ice-rimed stones. In the far distance Mercedes could make out the shape of an iceberg on a majestic journey to nowhere. The cold air bit at the membranes of her nostrils and carried the scent of brine.

  Boho walked down to join her. He had climbed higher on a glacier to have a better view of the processing center. “Women and kiddies are starting to gather. Staff are going up and down the line with hot drinks and donuts. The construction team did a good job. No way they’re going to be able to see the kids being taken out the back.” He beat his gloved hands together and blew on them. “Brrrr, what a frozen hell. I have no idea how the League will monetize this place.”

  “Ski resorts?” Mercedes suggested.

  Boho studied the distant mountains. “Extreme mountain climbing? And maybe the scans will reveal something worth Reals.” He slipped a gloved hand around her waist and pulled her close. “I know Kartirci called you in for a private meeting. What was that about?”

  “He counseled me not to come down for this. Said it would only upset me.”

  “Why would he think that?”

  “Maybe because he knows my mother was sent away when I was really young. But I think it’s because I’m a woman and he believes anything that involves crying babies will upset me.”

  “So you did it to prove you won’t be bothered?”

  “No, I did it because in a way this is being done on my authority since I’m my father’s heir. I should witness the process at least once.”

  “We know how it turns out. We get loyal League citizens.”

  “And leave behind how many resentful people?”

  “Not enough to matter in the grand scheme of things. Settlers will arrive and some of these crazy women are going to decide that maybe a little man meat wouldn’t be so bad.” Boho waggled his eyebrows and leered.

  Mercedes chuckled and punched him lightly on the shoulder. “You men all love your baloney ponies, don’t you?”

  “Señora Cullen! I am shocked! Shocked that you would say such a thing!”

  “Would you prefer tallywhacker? Cock rocket? Trouser snake? Giggle stick?” She had been struggling to hold back laughter and finally succumbed.

  Boho was also l
aughing. He grabbed her in a tight embrace. “Giggle stick? There isn’t a man alive who’d use that phrase.”

  “Not everything’s about you males,” Mercedes said demurely and lowered her lashes.

  “God, I love you.” His lips were cold but his mouth warm. After the kiss he looked down toward the lines of shuttles. “Shall we go back up?”

  “We’re going to be in a tin can for months after this. Let’s take a hike, spend a little more time with ground beneath our feet and sky overhead,” Mercedes said.

  “I like this plan.”

  The glacier made for smooth if slick walking. Boho spotted tracks in the snow off to the side and went to investigate. Mercedes followed. It was definitely a paw print, but it seemed to have multiple toes that were abnormally long and based on the track it had six legs.

  “Wonder what the rest of the critter looks like?” Boho mused.

  “It’s probably white given this planet and evolutionary biology,” Mercedes said.

  “Might be something interesting to hunt.” Boho started following the prints. “It looks like it was casting around. Suggests it’s a predator.”

  They climbed higher. Mercedes’ breath was a white banner before her face, but exertion had her sweating. She opened her parka halfway. Boho was ahead of her and she enjoyed the sight of the muscles in his butt bunching beneath his trousers. He stopped so abruptly that she ran into him.

  “Wha—”

  He pressed a finger against his lips and pointed at a particularly large snowdrift at the base of a black basalt cliff. Mercedes studied the area. The animal prints crossed and recrossed the area then moved away farther up the mountain. Then she saw it. A small pipe poking up out of the snow. It was barely visible. Boho snapped open the holster guard and drew his service pistol. Mercedes followed suit. Despite the cold there were trickles of sweat in his sideburns. With hand gestures he sent her off to the left, and he went right.

  Mercedes cautiously climbed the large drift and as she breasted the top she realized that a trail had been dug between the cliff wall and the drift. She moved slowly to the pipe and held her hand over it. Warm air was flowing from it. She tried to walk down the other side, but ended up dislodging snow and sliding down. Boho was still climbing down the drift when she hit the bottom. She slid into the rock, and threw up her free hand. The rough stone cut through the material of her glove and scraped her palm. She bit back a cry of pain.

  A sound from behind her had her scrambling to her feet and trying to turn. A sudden weight slammed into her back and sent Mercedes back into the cliff. This time with her face. Training took over and she got her shoulder under her attacker’s arm and flung her off. She attempted a spinning kick, but discovered that snow underfoot and heavy boots made capoeira anything but easy. As she managed a glancing blow to the woman’s knee Mercedes resolved to find some way to make her training sessions more challenging.

  Boho was halfway down the drift; his gun was shifting as he tried to get a bead on the woman. “Don’t shoot!” Mercedes screamed. You might hit me was the rest of that sentence, but she didn’t say it. Mercifully Boho holstered his gun, slid down the hill and wrapped his arms around the woman to hold her still. Mercedes grabbed up her pistol from where she had dropped it, and pressed the barrel against the woman’s forehead. All the fight went out of her.

  Panting, Mercedes looked and spotted the small makeshift door set into the snow bank. She yanked it open as the captive gave a low moan of despair. Mercedes bent down and peered inside, where a younger woman huddled in a nest of blankets. She clutched a toddler against her. The little girl—who looked to be about two—was crying. Her white-blonde hair was a flyaway halo, and she wore a little romper suit with kittens embroidered on it. As Mercedes’ face appeared in the doorway the quiet whimpers became sobbing screams.

  Mercedes crawled inside. It was tall enough that she was able to stand up once she was through the door. The small space smelled of sweat, food, stale milk and feces emanating from a bucket set on the far side of the room. A space heater powered by a generator warmed the igloo. A pot was simmering on a two-burner hot plate.

  Mercedes held out a hand. “It’s all right, we’re not going to hurt you. But what are you doing here?” she called over the wails of the child.

  “Waiting for you to be gone!” the young woman spat.

  “That’s not going to happen,” Boho called from the doorway. “You’re a League world now. Colonial administrators have arrived. A governor is on his way.” Boho forced his captive inside. His nose wrinkled at the mélange of smells. “You were supposed to report for processing.”

  “We get an order from a bunch of fascists to report to processing centers and bring our children. How stupid do you think we are?” The older woman’s eyes were burning with hate. “I know my history. The last time that happened people were loaded onto trains, sent to concentration camps and gassed.”

  Mercedes tried to figure out what in heaven’s name the woman was talking about. She had a vague memory of some sort of mass deportation of people from her history class but couldn’t recall any details. “We’re not like that. You’re not going to be moved off world. This is your home. We understand that, but you can’t stay up here. It isn’t safe.”

  “Will you guarantee our safety?” the younger woman quavered.

  Mercedes stared at the toddler whose sobs had subsided and who was now sucking on her thumb. She was a pretty little thing, and with her unusual coloring Mercedes suspected she would be fostered with a family very quickly. Blondes were rare in the League.

  “You won’t be hurt,” she said.

  Boho released the older woman, who ran to her partner and their daughter and enfolded them in her arms. Boho jerked his head toward the door. Mercedes followed him outside. He leaned in close and whispered, “We can’t take them back. From up here they’ll be able to see everything that’s happening and by now some of these kids will be getting carried to the shuttles.”

  “We could just leave them,” Mercedes said feeling queasy.

  “And when they come down and find out they’re the only couple left with a young kid? Their friends and neighbors will hate and resent them, and once it’s discovered by colonial services the kid will be grabbed, potentially leading to a riot.”

  “There’s going to be a riot when those women down there wake up,” Mercedes argued.

  “And think how much worse the next one will be when they’re defending this little girl. The last young child on the planet.”

  “So what do you suggest?”

  “Restrain the women. Take the kid. Send troops up to free the women after the operation is complete.”

  “Restrain them with what?”

  “There are blankets in there. Tear them, tie them up.”

  “They’re not just going to stand there while we do that.”

  “We’ve got guns.”

  “I’m not going to shoot them.”

  “They don’t know that.”

  Her back was to the door so the only warning she had was Boho’s eyes widening with alarm. He grabbed her around the waist and flung them both to the side. There was the roar of gunfire that echoed off the mountainside and the wind of a bullet passing perilously close to them as they tumbled to the ground. Boho rolled off her, drawing his pistol as he did, and fired at the older woman. From their position on the ground the bullet went up through her chin and the top of her head erupted in a spray of blood and brains. She collapsed, the rifle falling from her hands. The younger woman knelt in the doorway screaming.

  Boho scrambled to his feet, grabbed the young woman by the hair, and pulled her outside. He punched her hard in the face. She tried to ward him off, crying out in pain and fear, but he kept punching her. Her nose broke, blood streaking her face. Boho’s expression was murderous. Mercedes grabbed his arm before another blow could fall.

  “Boho! Stop! That’s enough!” The woman was laying partially across her lover’s body, the older woman’s blo
od caking her hair.

  “We’re fucked now,” Boho said. “They would have heard those gunshots down at the base.”

  “We’ll think of something. I have to get the child.”

  Mercedes went back inside the cave. The toddler was standing on the makeshift bed. She clutched a teddy bear and she was knuckling her eyes. Her upper lip was covered with snot.

  “Hey, sweetie,” Mercedes said softly. Using a blanket she wiped the child’s upper lip, and dried her eyes. “What’s Teddy’s name?”

  “Pumpkin.” Between the accent and the baby lisp it took her a moment to figure out what the little girl had said.

  “Would you and Pumpkin like some hot chocolate?” The child looked confused and Mercedes realized that chocolate probably wasn’t one of the crops grown on this subsistence world. “A cookie,” she quickly amended.

  The little girl nodded. Mercedes picked her up. “What’s your name? My name’s Mercedes.”

  “Dino… mak… e.” That was how it sounded to Mercedes.

  “What a pretty name,” she said even as she thought, What a terrible name for a child. “Dino. Do you like dinosaurs?” she asked as she pulled the child’s face down against her shoulder. It was tough getting through the low door while still keeping the child’s eyes covered, but she managed.

  “Go,” Boho said. “I’ll catch up.”

  Mercedes switched to Español. “Don’t leave the mother out here. She’ll freeze.”

  “Serve the bitch right.”

  “They were trying to protect their family. You’d do the same if someone tried to take our child…” Her voice trailed away.

  For an instant she was gripped with doubt. She shook it off. Early on the League had tried assimilations without taking the children, but had found that the practice had led to generation after generation learning hate at their parents’ knee. By removing the youngest children and overwhelming the local population with League settlers they’d managed to wipe out resistance within two generations. It was sound, if painful, policy, Mercedes thought as she headed down the mountain toward the processing center.