by Terry Mixon
Grace didn’t mind that. It was all part of the journey of becoming comfortable with one another. It also illuminated the seemingly intentional holes in the girl’s education.
Just like she’d never been exposed to the concept of philosophy, Andrea’s understanding of history as it pertained to the Empire, or even the Singularity, was skewed. The girl had never questioned how it came to be that so many people served the ruling caste or how there was no mobility between the various strata in her society.
It was simply just how things were done. Just as expulsion from the crèche and death were the price of failure for her and her line sibs.
Concealing her anger at that had been impossible, so she hadn’t tried. Andrea already knew how furious the crèche and Keeper had made Na, and that was good enough for Grace, too. She’d explain why killing little girls was evil after they had a bit more of a connection and had built some trust.
What had happened—and was no doubt still happening to other children in the various crèches inside the Singularity—appalled and infuriated her, but Andrea didn’t even know how to process a world where her upbringing didn’t reflect reality.
The girl had asked Na if she was going to kill her because she’d thought she’d asked the wrong question. It made Grace want to drop a few F-bombs herself. And to kill the people responsible, though she’d likely never have the chance.
Na would almost certainly stay in the Corps, but Anders was right about Grace’s career being over, one way or the other. She’d never have a chance to strike at the people who’d done this.
It made her see red every time the girl explained how the crèche system worked. She’d read her share of dystopian novels over the years, and if anything, the crèche was worse.
Talk about being under pressure. Andrea had to perform every single day, because failure meant expulsion and execution. The girl had seen dozens of her line sibs—girls exactly like her—taken away never to return.
She was terrified of making a mistake, and that engendered a level of caution in everything she did. It was going to take time and patience to change how Andrea saw the world.
Bold action wasn’t the girl’s strong point and might never be.
It was also going to take them time to adjust to just how different their worldviews really were. Grace had understood that everybody viewed the universe around them through the prism of their own experiences. That was brought home now by just how differently Andrea saw everything.
People, in particular, were a wonder to the girl. She’d only ever met those who were genetically identical to her. Grace couldn’t imagine living around hundreds of other girls, all exactly the same age, that looked precisely like she did.
Grace had grown up wishing for a sister but not a dorm full of identical twins. That was just plain creepy.
The idea of all of those little girls being forced to behave exactly like one another sickened her. Individuality in the crèche wasn’t just frowned upon, it was crushed. The Andrea Line believed in hardline conformity, at least during the formative years.
Oddly, Grace had a lot of familiarity with that type of training, because it was how the Imperial Marines trained their recruits. They brought them in from whatever world they came from, whatever society in which they’d been raised, and then broke their individuality.
They remade each and every recruit into the same mold. Each got the same training, ate the same foods, and behaved in the same manner. Any hint of resistance was met with overwhelming verbal force.
There was nothing quite like having a group of drill instructors swarm you, screaming at you because you’d done something wrong. That type of example certainly made an impression on the recruits. No one wanted to draw that kind of attention to themselves, so they complied and were molded.
It was only once the recruits had finished their basic training that they were allowed to begin displaying individuality again. The Corps had built a new foundation upon which the marine would then grow.
It never failed to amaze her how much the world had changed after she’d gone through basic training. In actuality, the world hadn’t changed: she had. Even now, many years later, she still saw the world as a marine and could hardly remember who she’d been before she’d joined the Corps.
It was as if Andrea had been born into a sadistic form of basic training, a brutal existence where not only were you yelled at, you might have your throat slit.
Of course, Grace had no idea how wayward children in the crèche were euthanized, and—thankfully—neither did Andrea. Probably something coldly clinical, since that seemed to fit the personality for this Keeper.
The very idea that human beings were discarded because they couldn’t conform or excel enraged Grace. She understood exactly why Fei was so angry, because she was too.
Sadly, there was absolutely nothing that either one of them could do about it. The Singularity might be smaller than the Empire, but a war between the two would result in uncounted deaths on both sides.
No, all she could do was make a difference for one person: Andrea.
When she finally excused herself, Grace worried that the girl wasn’t going to be able to adjust to what amounted to solitary confinement and instructed the marines on guard to check in with her every once in a while, just to make sure that she was doing okay. She’d do the same before she went to bed.
Grace went back to her quarters and spent the time required to get herself into the mental headspace she’d need for the ceremony to come. Saying goodbye to fallen friends never came easily, and it shouldn’t. Every loss should be a tragedy. If it ever became routine or casual, she’d have lost her humanity.
This wasn’t the first time that she’d had to preside over a service like this and far from the only time she’d participated in one. She knew what to do. Tonight had to be a celebration of Anne Marie’s life.
Since they were on this particular mission, none of them had uniforms, so they’d wear their skinsuits. Now that the raid had taken place, unless they came across a situation where they had to pretend to be regular crew, they’d go ahead and wear them. That would make getting into armor quicker.
When she arrived at the container with the airlock, she found all her people gathered and ready. Joining them were Jay Anders and Alan Kyle. Also present was Kayden Harmon. She wasn’t sure why the man was there, but she didn’t find it objectionable.
An empty equipment crate would be jettisoned to represent Anne Marie’s casket. That would help them all find closure.
She walked up to a small lectern that somebody had put together in front of the makeshift casket and faced her people. She could see sorrow and anger on their faces. She knew that her face would mirror those same emotions if she allowed it to.
That was what grief was: rage at the universe for taking someone that you cared about. She wouldn’t feed their anger today. There wouldn’t be any patriotic speeches calling for bloody retribution. Today, they would remember their departed friend.
“When I first met Anne Marie, it was a little bit uncomfortable,” Grace said without preamble. “I’d just been appointed to command the platoon and was taking an unofficial tour of the barracks.
“She and I actually bumped into one another at the entrance to the head, and she almost spilled a bucket of soapy water all over me. She was taking extra care to make sure that our area was prepared for inspection, even though I had no intention of doing one.
“Anne Marie just wanted to go the extra kilometer to make sure that everything was perfect. That’s the kind of person she was. She’d literally give someone the shirt off of her back if they needed it. She was selfless, brave, and I will miss her.”
Grace paused to let that sink in. “I don’t want us to be thinking about how the Singularity took her from us, though. Today isn’t about them, it’s about her. What I’d like each of you to do is to share a memory of our friend so that we can all grieve for what we’ve lost.”
She walked to the back of
the room to stand beside Anders and Kyle as each of her marines came forward and told a story. Some of them were funny, some of them were gut-wrenchingly sad. All of them were personal and reflected their profound loss.
Grace shed her tears unabashedly. This wasn’t the time to suppress her emotions. Marines didn’t hide their grief for the loss of a friend.
The last marine to speak was Na. She told a story about how she’d set up a birthday surprise for a friend, but the gift had failed to arrive on time. Anne Marie had somehow, miraculously, found a replacement gift, and the party went off without a hitch.
It was only later that Na had discovered the gift had actually been one of Anne Marie’s prized possessions. She’d given it away so that someone else could get pleasure from it.
Na didn’t cry when she told her story. Her face was instead flat with controlled anger. Everyone could see that she still wanted to see someone bleed for this.
She was far from alone in that.
Grace was about to go back to the lectern and close the ceremony when Kayden stepped forward to replace Na. The move shocked her. Hell, every single one of the reasons there could be for him to do this was wrong for this crowd.
She started forward to cut him off, but Anders blocked her with his arm. “Let him speak. You need to hear what he has to say. You all do.”
Uncertain that she agreed, she backed down and waited. Na was right there. She wouldn’t allow things to get out of hand. Hopefully.
Kayden placed his hands on the lectern and looked out over the marines. “I know that many of you don’t want to hear what I have to say because I’m from the Singularity, but you need to. I hate the rulers of the Singularity even more than you do, so please open your hearts to my words.
“I ask you not to lay blame for this on the regular people inside the Singularity. They’re slaves in everything but name. Reserve your rage for the ruling caste and their willing lackeys. I know that goes against the rules Lieutenant Tolliver laid out, but it had to be said.
“With that out of the way, I need to acknowledge that Anne Marie Scott gave her life for me. I didn’t know her. I’d never even spoken to her, but she selflessly sacrificed her life so that I might live.
“Oh, I’m sure she didn’t do it for me. She gave her life for you, her friends and comrades, and that’s as it should be. One shouldn’t squander one’s life for a stranger, yet to my utter incomprehension, that’s what she did.
“Even more confounding to me, she traded her life for that of a member of the ruling caste of the Singularity.”
His hands tightened on the lectern, and his expression hardened. “You can’t begin to understand how much I loathe each and every one of those people. The things that they’ve done to our society, to our people, are unimaginable. I’ve been inside the Empire, so I know just how bad we have it, even though many of our people don’t understand what they’re missing.
“But Anne Marie Scott’s sacrifice has made me reconsider some core truths that I’ve held for all my life. If she could sacrifice herself for someone that she didn’t know, for someone that might one day have grown up to be one of the cold bastards that rule over untold trillions of people, then perhaps I’m being too hard.
“I told Lieutenant Tolliver during the retreat to the ship that she should leave the child behind to be killed. That the girl was going to grow up to be a monster.
“When she didn’t, I became angry, but now that I’ve had time to reflect on Anne Marie Scott’s sacrifice, I realized that I was just as locked into the caste of my birth as the girl was in hers before we found her.
“If people are the sum of their experiences, then it’s never really too late to change. Or perhaps it might be better said that one’s life can be changed for the better if those around them are willing to give them a chance so long as they’re willing to try.
“Anne Marie Scott’s sacrifice demands something equivalent from me. A life for a life. Isn’t that how it used to be on old Terra? If someone saved your life, you owed them one in return.
“Sadly, since I can’t save Anne Marie’s life, I must pay it forward, as the saying goes. I’ll speak with Lieutenant Tolliver when we’re done here and offer my services with the girl. Perhaps I can help shape her into someone that might one day redeem Anne Marie’s sacrifice.
“I ask you to look inside yourselves and find the courage and strength to help me. Together, perhaps we can make a difference for this one child. Will you help me? For Anne Marie?”
Na stepped forward without hesitation. “Changing this girl’s future will be a powerful blow against the Singularity. I pledge myself to this task, and you have my full support, heart and soul.”
Almost as one, the rest of the marines stepped forward and pledged their support as well, their expressions hardening with resolve.
Grace wept.
She’d expected grudging cooperation from her people but now knew that they’d watch over the girl as if she were their personal charge. In effect, they’d be her godparents, uncles, and aunts.
It took Grace a moment to realize that Kayden had stepped away from the lectern before she got herself moving to take his place. She took a deep breath and wiped the tears from her face.
“I also pledge myself,” she said quietly. “You’ve probably heard that I’ve claimed the girl as my booty to keep her from falling into the hands of Imperial Intelligence and anyone else that just wants to use her. I wanted to salvage a life for her, but I wasn’t sure how to do it.
“With your help, I believe that we can do it together. Let’s make the redemption of this child Anne Marie’s legacy. Let’s make her a person that Anne Marie would be proud of.
“Not for the child’s sake—even though it will be—but for Anne Marie’s, so that her death means more than saving any single one of us. Perhaps Andrea can do something in the future that will save many more marines than we could ever dream possible.
“Thank you for your support and for coming to listen to your comrades’ memories of Anne Marie. We’re all going to miss her, but now we know how to honor her. Now, let us inter her into the deep where she can rest in peace, her work and pain finally done.”
Six of the marines stepped forward and grabbed the crate by the rails, hoisting it and marching step by step into the airlock. They set it down and retreated to the ranks.
“Attention on deck!” Na shouted. “Present… arms!”
They all saluted, their right fists to their chest as the interior hatch slid closed. The airlock was already programmed to open without bleeding off the atmosphere. Moments later, the outer hatch opened at maximum speed, and the crate went flying into the eternal darkness of space.
They all held their salutes until the outer hatch once more slid closed.
Grace dropped her salute and turned to face her marines. “Double alcohol rations are authorized, but don’t forget that we’re still in enemy space. Dismissed.”
The marines filed out of the compartment in small groups, talking amongst themselves. Anders and Kyle nodded toward her and followed them out. That left her alone with Kayden Harmon.
“I had no idea that you were going to say that, much less that you’d feel that way,” she said as she walked up to him. “I’m not certain what to say.”
“I didn’t do it for you or the child,” he said quietly. “I really didn’t even do it for Anne Marie Scott. I did it for myself.
“Hate is something that festers inside you, that eats at who you are to the point where you lose yourself. Hope is the opposite of hate. By dedicating myself to helping this child, I regain a little bit of my soul.
“That doesn’t mean that this will be easy. I might understand the girl better than you, but I’m going to come into this with preconceptions developed over a lifetime in the Singularity. I know what kind of person she’d have become if we hadn’t intervened, but I don’t really understand who she might be now that we’ve broken the cycle.”
“None of us do,” Grace
said. “We can’t imagine who someone else is going to become based on what we’ve experienced in our own lives. We can provide her with examples of the kind of person she could aspire to be, and we just have to hope that she can exceed our expectations.
“I’ll accept your help, but we’re all going to have to be careful that our preconceptions don’t get in the way of helping her. We’re also going to have to fight against Andrea’s own preconceptions.”
“If the leaders of the Andrea Line knew that we were calling her that, they’d be outraged,” he said with a chuckle. “I heartily approve. I’ll need to speak to her.”
Grace nodded. “You do, but she’s had a very rough day. Rougher than ours. She needs sleep and a little time to adjust. We can meet for breakfast.
“I’d also ask you to be patient with her. She’s a curious child, but she’s got some landmines that her education and indoctrination have laid for her. I don’t think you understand how rough she’s had it.”
The man nodded slowly. “Perhaps not. The two of us should have dinner so that you can explain the challenges we’re going to face. I need to be prepared so that I can provide support for both you and the girl.”
She smiled at him even as her eyes narrowed. “I think you just want to have dinner with me.”
“Of course I do,” he said with a grin. “What kind of ladies’ man would I be if I didn’t use our exigent circumstances to get such a beautiful woman all to myself?”
She laughed and shook her head. “You really are horrible. Come on. Let’s go have that dinner, but remember to keep your hands to yourself.”
“I’ll be the perfect gentleman,” he said with a slight bow. “Tonight, in any case. In the future, who knows?”
“We’ll see. Since you’re buying, I demand the good stuff.”
He laughed. “Have you met our cook? Raymond is a delightful man, but one mustn’t set their expectations too high. To make up for the inevitable disappointment, I’ll bring a bottle of something I’ve been saving for a special occasion.”
