Jesse’s tenure has become the stuff of legend among both the guards and fellow workers. To some, the very fact that he refuses to die is itself seen as an act of defiance. He has worked the easiest and the harshest shifts throughout the refinery, operating heavy machinery, carrying material, and melding the hot metals, all in temperatures near 100 degrees. The work has tormented his body, weakening him greatly, but he has persevered. Marcus worries about him constantly, but he’s fairly sure the reason he’s still on his feet is that he is the only worker with a child at the mining facility. Every evening as he walks to Barrack 47, he knows that he will be spending time with Marcus. Not a day goes by when he doesn’t manage to put on a smile before walking through the doors and to their shared bunk bed. It’s usually a twenty- to thirty-minute walk between the barracks and the plant, depending on how grueling the day has been.
Arriving home at 7:00 PM, Marcus and Jesse have developed a consistent routine of cleaning up in the showers and then heading over to the cafeteria hall for dinner at 7:30. They always sit at the same section of one of the long tables next to other members of crew #1949. Conversation is usually reserved to the events of the day and the occasional random thought. After about thirty minutes, they leave to go back to their barracks, before most of the others have left. Back “home,” they crack on with schoolwork.
Without any of his textbooks, it is quite difficult for Marcus’s dad to teach him. This challenge is further compounded by the lack of paper and pencils, so they use a stick to write on the dirt floor. Jesse tries to recall the syllabuses and lesson schedule from his years as a college professor, and they do the best they can continuing to develop Marcus’s knowledge of mathematics and science. Each night they try to work for about three hours, until between 11:00 and 11:30 PM. Most of the men in the barracks don’t understand why Jesse bothers teaching Marcus these things, which will never get used.
Jesse, though, sees knowledge as the only way out of this mine, one way or another. The vast majority of the time they spend on math and science, but Jesse tries to spend a bit of time reminding Marcus of history and their values, generally at the beginning of the night’s lesson when most of the other workers were still eating dinner. They discuss how the factory guards prey on the hopelessness of the situation, how once free, strong men have their spirits broken by long-term enslavement. Jesse ensures that Marcus understands the corrosiveness of totalitarian rule so that he instinctively hates it. He reminds Marcus of his mother frequently. If she was willing to sacrifice her life, they should be able to sacrifice several years of their lives if necessary.
One distraction from their lessons has often been the arrival of newly captured men to their barracks. With Nayan’s population almost entirely subdued by now, most new workers come from other planets. They provide new information about the developments of the galaxy. Aside from these tidbits, the only information that the workers can glean is from the weekly thirty-minute news brief, which is little more than a propaganda session, reporting Frozos’s exploits, both real and imagined. Admittedly, some of the stories shared by the newly enslaved are also probably imagined or exaggerated, but it can be refreshing to hear these stories. Unfortunately, the news is rarely explicitly positive. Frozos remains clearly in control of the League of Planets. His military’s size and power continue to grow, aided by the raptium supplies from Nayan’s mine, and the planet count has steadily increased by nearly one hundred during the three Earth years Marcus and Jesse have been enslaved.
That said, there are signs that resistance and rebellion continue to fester. The size and strength of this resistance as well as where it operates from are unknown, and estimates have ranged from tens of thousands of fighters to tens of millions. In reality, the truth likely lies somewhere in the middle. There are likely a few hundred thousand fighters who are supported by the helping hand of millions of merchants who let some supplies go missing, leak the location of supertanker transporters, or provide shelter just as Marcus’s parents once had.
Cobbling together what he has heard from all the various stories over the years, Jesse is convinced that the resistance to Frozos is real, and this fact is enough to inspire some hope in Marcus and among the workers, though it does fade the longer workers spend in the facility. But it seems like the rebels avoid direct military conflict with the bulk of Frozos’s forces, likely in recognition that they lack the numbers or equipment to challenge his military supremacy. Instead, they pick off the stray destroyer group or pilfer supplies to disrupt life in the League, create discontent, and slowly but steadily build their own military readiness.
This is a sound strategy, but it also is a patient one. It could take years to sow enough discontent or build enough firepower to challenge Frozos, whose own military power is also steadily on the rise. This patience is in keeping with the one consistent tidbit in all the rebel stories, that the leader of the movement is indeed the former ruler of that aquatic planet that held out like none other, Aquine. Jesse has yet to come across one who has seen him in person, but references to this “King Hammerhead” are ever-present and intertwined with the mystique of the resistance. This figure, given his name, is of great inspiration to Marcus who imagines what he must look like and asks newcomers for any and all stories they know of him. Jesse is certain some of these stories are invented, but he is happy for hope to be preserved in Marcus’s spirit.
There is no proof that King Hammerhead is alive or a myth. However, Jesse does remember as a student many years ago studying the aquatic worlds, which largely were a mystery to the known universe. In particular, he remembers reading that the lifespan among these species is exceptionally long. Indeed, some were said to live nearly 250 Nayan years (about 300 to 400 Earth years), if not longer. The perspective of a life that long could explain why the resistance’s strategy is defined by its apparent patience. What seems patient to a man with a lifespan of eighty to one hundred years would seem totally normal to that of a being who lives four times as long. Jesse isn’t certain that King Hammerhead exists, but he does believe that someone like him is running a rebellion effort.
And so it was for three years in the mine. Marcus and Jesse worked long nights studying and hard days at work to satiate the demands of the guards. Finally, these efforts are set to pay off, or so Marcus and Jesse hope. Each year, the League runs a “test” at all of its labor camps. The test is open to all individuals from fourteen to twenty-five who have received approval from the supervisory officer that they have the physical strength, loyalty, and mental discipline to serve in Frozos’s army. It is through this program that the officer who captured Jesse and Marcus three years ago graduated. The contents of the test are unknown but it said to focus on critical reasoning. Applicants have two hours to complete it in the morning, and those that are accepted know by the day’s end. Most of the graduates, after training, work as guards in a mine, though some do go to the frontlines. The acceptance rate is about 5 percent. Marcus’s dad noticed that the workers who report on others tend to “pass the test,” which has led him to believe the test is really a sham—a tool to create hope among workers and to keep young ones loyal during years they would otherwise be most restless.
Marcus had received approval from the guard overseeing crew #1949 to take the test, thanks to lobbying by Cornelius. Test day is a holiday for all workers, complete with better meals, and often visits by higher-ups in the League. This year, an up-and-comer, Vice Admiral Tyrone Tiberius, is attending ceremonies at the Nayan mine.
Marcus is sitting at the long table in the cafeteria, alongside all the other test-takers. He hasn’t written with a pencil in years; he hopes he remembers how. His father had given him clear advice—the goal is not to do well on the test; the best he could do by doing well would be a life as a low-level guard, a cog in Frozos’s machine of death. Jesse has told Marcus that his only chance to get off this planet and achieve true success is to show-off his actual genius in the sciences. The game p
lan is simple: answer every question that pertains to Frozos’s rule, if there are any, by responding the way a loyal soldier would. Ignore the other questions, and instead write down every complex mathematical proof and scientific formula he could think of. Show off his knowledge base.
At 10:00 AM, a guard in the front yells, “Begin.” The several hundred applicants seated at every other seat to avoid cheating open the booklet and begin. Marcus takes a cursory look through the ten-page booklet, scanning for questions that would test loyalty. He sees none—most are straight forward math and reading comprehension questions that he could do in under thirty minutes. Contrary to his father’s advice, he answers all the questions. That leave him ninety minutes to start writing out every proof and formula he can, touching on everything from physics to engineering and linear algebra. Some of the applicants near Marcus notice that he is writing furiously, far more than they are, leading many looking back through their tests to see if they missed something. Confused but satisfied that they answered the questions, the other applicants hand in their test well ahead of the two-hour mark while Marcus continues writing until the guard calls time with just a handful of people still working—most of whom probably won’t be passing.
Marcus drops his pencil, closes his booklet, and hands it to a guard, walking nearby to collect tests. He heads back to the barracks by himself. It’s a beautiful day outside, and most workers are hanging outside the barracks. As he nears Barrack 47, he passes his crewmates, lounging on the grass. They cheer and hoot, asking how it went. Marcus shrugs his shoulders and offers up, “Pretty well, I think. Fingers crossed!”
Returning home, Marcus walks inside to see his father pacing back and forth by their bunk, the footprints all over the dirt floor betray the fact that he has been doing this for much of the past two hours.
“Hi Dad!”
Jesse looks up from his pacing; he was so deep in thought that he didn’t even notice Marcus walk in. Smiling, he asks, “Well, how did it go?”
“Pretty good. The questions were super basic. I answered them all in less than twenty-five minutes, and like you said, put down as much of what I know as possible.”
“Fine, fine. I’m sure it went well. Let’s go outside and enjoy the rest of the day. No use just sitting here and worrying!” Before they walk out, Jesse gives Marcus a big, long hug and says, “I love you very much, Marcus. Your mother would be so very proud of you, and so am I.”
“I know, Dad. I love you, too.”
“Promise me, Marcus, you’ll never forget all you learned here. Never be consumed by hatred or revenge; be inspired by love.”
“I promise, Dad.”
“Good,” Jesse says as he puts his arm around Marcus’s shoulders, and they walk outside together. “Remember, don’t let them embitter you or drive you to hate. Let them hate. Act out of love, and they can never beat you.”
Marcus brushes a tear from his face, trying to hide it from Jesse. He feels a pit in his stomach as he processes this fatherly advice, sensing their time together is near its end.
After about two hours, a guard rushes over to where Marcus, his father, and many of the residents of Barrack 47 are lounging. “NJ273? Your attendance has been requested.”
Marcus gets up to follow the guard, with a smile and a nod from his dad, while the group cheers and congratulates him. They all assume he must have passed and been drafted into the army. Why else would he be called in for a meeting? Marcus silently walks alongside the guard. They walk past the barracks and the cafeteria hall to the officers’ headquarters, a large brick building he has not entered since the day he and his father were captured. They then proceed upstairs and into the office of the head soldier of the mine.
“This is NJ273 sir,” the guard says before walking out and closing the door behind him.
Sitting in the chair is Vice Admiral Tiberius. He has the same reptilian face and fast-moving yellow eyes, though he is perhaps twenty-five pounds lighter than he will be when laying siege to Earth. “Sit down, Marcus, I believe it is, if these records are right? I don’t deal in worker numbers.”
“Yes, that’s right, sir,” Marcus says politely as he takes a seat.
“Tell me, do you know who I am?”
“I believe you are Vice Admiral Tyrone Tiberius, one of the top commanders in the League of Planets’s space fleet.”
“Yes. I carry a lot of weight, and my endorsement or criticism can permanently alter a career path, which brings me to your test,” Tiberius says.
“Yes, sir. I can explain,” Marcus interjects nervously.
“No need, son. Let me talk my piece first. The grader was dumbfounded by the scribbles but smartly passed the test on. These are extraordinarily complex proofs. I take it you didn’t take this test because you want to be a mine guard some day?”
“No, sir. Updates we hear about Supreme General Frozos’s conquests are so exciting to me, and I want to participate in them.”
“Good. So I take it you have always studied the sciences. Reports from your file indicate you spend nights working with your father on these problems?”
“Yes. He is an academic. I appreciate his knowledge and what he has taught me, but like many academics, he doesn’t appreciate the reality of daily life.” It pains Marcus to say this, but he has run through a conversation like this with his father many times to ensure he passes the loyalty test. He must lie and do so convincingly.
“Why do you say that?”
“He has spent his life in a classroom. I’ve spent mine here. I’ve seen that some are happier being ruled, just working and being fed. Power is meant to be held by those willing to wield it. The Supreme General and yourself seem like people who understand this. That’s why I want to learn from you.”
“And learn you shall. But first, I need evidence that you actually understand what you wrote down rather than mindlessly memorized the material. So solve this problem. It shouldn’t take more than a minute or two and is simpler than much of what you wrote.” Tiberius pushes over a piece of paper with a pencil.
Marcus looks over the problem—a physics problem about gravitational forces and planetary rotations in a multi-solar universe. He immediately smiles. These problems had long been a nuisance for him, but he remembers clearly that his final test in the cave before being captured was on this very topic. He can’t help but believe that his mother’s helping hand has played a role in turning destiny in his favor. Having subsequently done countless problems like this with his father, he bangs out the problem in less than a minute, calmly pushing the paper back to Tiberius.
Tiberius reviews it against another paper. “Well, you couldn’t have bluffed your way through that one. I’ve called you here because you have different skills than most of our recruits from these mines, and you seem to have the ambition to match it. We are running a special program for young folks like yourself. You’ll be dealing with long-term missions that are critical to the League. Interested?”
“Very much, sir,” Marcus replies.
“I should tell you that the punishment should you fail training will be very harsh. Great rewards always come with serious risk. You understand what I’m saying?”
“I do. And I will take great risk to give me a future off of this planet.”
“Good. The officer outside will take you to my personal ship right away; this assignment is of the utmost secrecy.”
Marcus hesitates, realizing this means he won’t say goodbye to his father, leading Tiberius to spell it out bluntly.
“Your assignment will be extremely secret. Don’t worry, I will make sure your father and coworkers know you passed the test and are getting a strong assignment. You won’t be able to say goodbye to them yourself, but based on what you said about them, I assume that’s fine?”
Marcus keeps his composure and says, “Yes, of course sir. Thank you for this tremendous opportunity.”
With that, he gets up, Tiberius leads him to the door and tells the guard to bring Marcus to his ship. Marcus, holding back tears, realizes that the final question was the true loyalty test. He also now understands why his father hugged him so dearly. He only wishes he had hugged him back for even just one more second. The realization that he will never see his father again comes over him as he walks aboard Tiberius’s ship, though he can’t show sadness without risking that he would expose where his true loyalties lie.
Three days later, with Tiberius’s backing, he is on Planet Killjorn, where he will spend the next three years of his life. About two months later, word is passed to him that his father has died. He was killed in an accident from falling nayanite. He pushed another worker out of the way, and the debris crushed him. Marcus knows he was only told this as one final test, and so again, he is forced to hide all outward emotions. In the days that followed, he comes to understand why his father had outlived any other worker on that job: he had a reason to live. Jesse was motivated by giving his son a better life at any and all cost, persevering under conditions that would have killed any ordinary person.
As Marcus grows older, he appreciates that his father sacrificed as much to protect him as his mother. While his mother sacrificed her life to save him, his father endured a living hell to save him. More than anything, he wants to avenge their deaths, but he constantly reminds himself of his father’s plea: be inspired by love, not consumed by hate. That is the only way to truly beat the League and to honor the legacy of his parents.
Chapter 25
Jersey City
June 2, 2029
Robert Wilson stands up from his chair and puts the paper of his childhood back onto his desk. His confidence in himself remains unsteady, but his determination to push forward has been renewed. He will honor the legacies of his father and mother, no matter the personal cost. There is a knock at his side-door from the command center.
Robert Wilson and the Invasion from Within Page 22
