Croix raised his eyebrows in shock. “Was it? It saddens me so to hear you say that, my friend. The way I remember it, those brave boys were the only thing between us and chaos. You should be thanking them, not accusing them. They saved the day.”
“The way you saved the day when that First talked to me?” Lucas said.
Croix rolled his eyes. That again? For hell’s sake, won’t he ever let go? Fine, the man was an envoy. So we made an enemy. Big deal. We’re strong and they’re weak and that’s that!
When he spoke, however, his voice was sweet like dripping honey. “Another unfortunate incident. I’m sorry you feel that way, friend. I see you still refuse to thank me for saving your life. That’s OK, a leader must be ready to face ungratefulness daily.” He sighed deeply, enjoying the sight of Lucas turning red.
“Leader?” he rasped. “I don’t remember voting for you!”
“Surely you agree that desperate times require desperate measures?” Croix asked, his voice the very voice of reason itself.
“The times are only desperate, because you made them so!”
“I see… Well, let’s agree to disagree.” He turned his attention to an e-lib on his desk and tapped it. “Is there anything else?” he asked without looking at them.
“Yes! Why did you take away our books?”
Lucas’ outburst took Croix by surprise. He had never been one for books, and the survivors’ attachment to them had amazed him. He shook one accusing finger at Lucas. “We have to preserve our civilisation. How can we do that without any e-libs?”
“What are you talking about? One kid breaking an e-lib is just an accident – not an excuse to withhold knowledge from people,” Lucas shouted.
“An e-lib broken today. Another tomorrow. How few should be left before you consent to placing them into safe keeping? A hundred? A dozen? Just one?”
“But we still have hundreds of them! What you’re saying makes no sense! How are we going to educate our children? How can we progress as a civilisation?”
Croix felt the blood rush to his head. This idiot has no idea what we’re up against! “Progress? You want progress? It’s all we can do to survive. Wake up, Lucas! We are stranded in the middle of nowhere on a hostile planet, surrounded by enemies. Making it out of here alive will be hard enough, without worrying about progress.”
“The First are not our enemies! They never attacked anyone. Not once! And the planet’s been great. We can eat almost anything on it, there are no dangerous predators, no diseases… What are you so afraid of?”
Croix drummed his fingers on the desk and stared outside. “There are more things on this planet than you know,” he said in a low, soft voice. “Many more dangers than you realise. Anyway, to answer your question, we’ll set up copying facilities. That way the e-libs will be safe, but knowledge will be preserved. Can’t you see I’m just trying to ensure our survival?”
“How? By sending us straight back to the Dark Ages?”
"I’m doing nothing of the sort!” Croix thumped his fist on the desk, sending a rock paperweight to crash against the floor, but Lucas was unfazed.
“Yes, you are! You are talking about scribes copying ancient documents. That’s exactly like the Dark Ages!”
“We have printing presses now,” said Croix, a sudden smile playing on his lips.
“Do we? I’ve never seen them! Who set them up? Why don’t you show them to us?”
Croix leaned forward. “All in good time, my friend. All in good time. Now, if there’s nothing else…”
Joe coughed to clear his throat, then spoke for the first time since walking into the office. “Actually, there is. Lucas, Barrett and Walker are conspiring against you. I heard them with my own ears,” he said with a calm voice.
Lucas jerked to his feet, sending his chair to crash against the floor. “What are you talking about? I agreed with you that we needed to talk to Croix!”
“And Barrett and Walker discussed forming an army, didn’t they? At your home, I believe? Surely that makes you responsible…”
Croix sank back into his chair to watch Lucas, struggling to hide his amusement.
Lucas glared at Joe, speechless. “Why are you doing this, Joe?”
“He’s right, Lucas. Our survival comes first. I tried to tell you all, but you wouldn’t listen. You’ve all had such easy lives, back on Earth. Me, I was a farmer. A good year was a year when we didn’t go hungry. A bad year, though… I’ve been hungrier than all of you put together. And you know what? I don’t care for it. Putting food on people’s plates and keeping them safe: these are the only things that matter. All else is irrelevant. I’m sorry you can’t see that.”
“What about knowledge? Freedom?”
Joe crossed his arms and looked away. “Pretty words, nothing more. Try eating freedom next time you’re hungry. Then we’ll talk.”
“That’s not true,” Lucas cried out, leaning forward, his face inches from Joe’s. “Freedom’s sacred! It’s the one thing worth fighting for. Worth dying for!”
Time to end this. “Now, now, there’ll be plenty of time for all that,” Croix said, getting up. He walked calmly to the door and opened it. Two Armbands strode into the room.
Lucas took a step back, as if trying to hide behind the desk. “What are you doing?”
“Lucas Rivera, you are under arrest for conspiring against the lawful government of Pearseus,” Croix said. “Take him.” He gave the Armbands a nod as they placed one hand each on Lucas’ shoulders.
“This is wrong! Joe, what’s wrong with you? Don’t let them do this!”
Slamming handcuffs on him, they dragged him through the long corridor that led to the holding cells, his shouts fading in the distance.
“I’m sorry, Lucas,” Joe murmured. “I really am. But I won’t go hungry again. Not for you. Not for anyone.”
Joe
Cyrus glared at his father with furious, wide eyes. “How could you, Dad?” he shouted.
Joe shook his head. Cyrus was a good kid, but had no idea how life really worked. “You don’t understand. I did it for you. Everything’s gonna be alright now.”
Azam, Joe’s wife, stayed silent, knitting quietly in a corner.
“But it’s wrong! You taught me to tell right from wrong, remember? And I’m telling you: This. Is. Wrong.”
Joe felt the blood rush to his head, but before he could reply, Azam interrupted them.
“Cyrus, don’t talk to your father that way.” Cyrus threw them both a burning look before storming out, slamming the door behind him.
Joe clenched his jaw, looking at the quivering frame. “Can you believe him?”
“He’s right, you know,” she said, without interrupting her knitting.
“Don’t tell me you’re taking his side now?”
“I’m taking no sides, dear. But he’s right. Croix has finally lost it. He never had all his marbles, but since Kibwe’s death, he’s gone off the deep end. Did you at least ask him what he’ll do with Lucas?”
“I’m sure nothing bad will happen to him,” he rasped, sliding his hands into his pockets. He coughed to clear his throat . “He’ll probably be released in a couple of days.”
She sighed. “Let’s hope so.” Putting her knitting needles down, she walked to him and drew her arms around him. “You should have let them stop Croix instead of encouraging him. I’m afraid this won’t end well.”
Before he had a chance to reply, they heard shouts coming from outside. Exchanging a frightened look, they ran out. A group of Armbands trudged in the thick mud, hauling Walker. Heavy chains covered his wrists. An angry throng of onlookers had gathered to yell at them, ignoring the downpour. Joe stared at the sight in confusion. A loud bang startled him and sent people to run away, while Richard screamed at his captors. An Armband, a terrified boy with a gun, gaped on as two others punched Richard, again and again, until he collapsed in their arms. They dragged him away from the muddy street and the fleeing people returned. Joe noticed th
em lifting someone from a puddle and approached.
“Well, I hope you’re happy, attacking the officers like that –” he started, then his breath caught as he noticed it was Cyrus they were carrying.
“He tried to stop them from arresting Richard,” someone said.
The boy turned to look at his father and tried to speak, then spat blood. Joe’s face turned white and his legs buckled. He dropped to his knees, splashing mud around. Azam screamed behind him and hurtled to her son.
For a long time after they had all left, Joe stayed on the street, staring at the mud with unseeing eyes while the rain soaked him to the bone. Reaching an abrupt decision, he bolted to his feet and rushed towards the hospital.
Croix
The curses of the mob under his window, combined with the whispers in his head, made Croix’s head pound. He scowled and slinked to the window to curse at the stone-throwing protesters, the dull thuds of rocks reverberating in his head as they hit the wood. A stone broke the window to roll next to him, spraying him with broken glass. Screaming obscenities, he crawled behind his desk. An Armband ran into the room.
“Are you alright, sir?”
“Who the hell are you?”
“Ensign Tang, sir.”
“Why aren’t you attacking them, Ensign Tang?”
“Sir?” The young man’s eyes opened wide.
“Attack them! Shoot them! Kill them all!” Croix screamed, a vein throbbing on his forehead.
Tang blinked. “We can’t kill them all, sir!”
Croix stood up to peer out of the window. At least half the survivors had gathered in the plaza. He was surprised to see Joe among them, shouting like the others.
I’ve told you so many times; you should trust no-one! the whisper in his head scolded him.
“I don’t!” Croix cried out.
“Don’t what, sir?” asked the boy.
Croix reached into a drawer to dig inside, pulling out a gun and a slim dagger. He handed Tang the dagger, keeping the gun for himself. “Follow me,” he ordered.
They ran towards the cell where they held Lucas. Croix slammed the door against the wall.
“You bastard! How did you do it?” he asked.
Lucas cringed, holding his hands up to shield his eyes from the blinding light rushing in to the dark cell through the open door. His handcuffs had not been removed since his arrest, and dried blood and pus soiled his wrists. Bruises covered his unshaven face, making him look gaunt and dirty.
“Do what?” he rasped, wetting his lips with his tongue.
“How did you turn them against me?” Croix yelled.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Lucas croaked.
“Get up. Up!”
Croix yanked him up by the handcuffs and Lucas screamed in pain as the metal dug into his flesh. Dragging him outside, Croix ignoring the Armband who stood frozen, fidgeting with his dagger, his conflicting thoughts evident on his young face. Lucas was like a father to the community; they had even erected him a statue.
“You’re responsible for keeping the peace,” Croix reminded him, noticing his discomfort. “You obey me and me alone, remember?”
He marched off and Tang hurried after them, a confused look still on his face.
Croix slammed the balcony door open and stepped outside. The crowd howled as they saw him and crashed against the building, like a wave made of flesh. Croix heaved Lucas in front of him and an eerie silence replaced the commotion.
“Is this what you want?” he asked them mockingly.
Barrett stepped out from the crowd. “It’s over, Croix. Let him go.”
“Let him go? He’s guilty of treason.” He pointed an accusing finger towards the crowd. “You’re all guilty of treason! You should all hang!” Spittle ran from the corners of his mouth, and Barrett gaped at him from below with an almost compassionate look in her eyes.
“Don’t do this, Croix. It’s not too late.”
“Is that pity I hear in your voice?” Rage swallowed him at the insult. “How dare you feel sorry for me! You’re the one that caused all this! Traitors, all of you!” His face twitched with fury.
“We’re coming in. Just Richard, Joe and me, just to talk,” she shouted to be heard over the commotion.
“What’s there to discuss? You all want me dead, don’t you think I know that? You’ve wanted that from the beginning. They were right, they’d warned me about you. All of you!”
“Who’s they?” she asked, confused. “No-one wants to hurt you, Gerard. Just let Lucas go and we’ll figure it out.”
He had almost forgotten about Lucas. He stared at his hand holding on to the handcuffs as if it belonged to someone else.
“Release him? He’s behind all this!” The whispers in his head agreed, urging him on. His other hand held on to the gun. He raised it with trembling fingers and pressed it against Lucas’ head. Lucas closed his eyes.
“Please…” he begged.
Croix’s trigger finger twitched and Lucas’ head exploded. Croix heard the howling from the crowd and saw its movement, first backwards, as if to avoid the blood; then forward, like a pack of wolves ready to cut him to pieces. Warm droplets sprayed him, dripping softly onto the crowd below like swirling scarlet raindrops, baptizing them in Lucas’ blood. A giggle rose to his mouth, and he brought his hand to his mouth to drown it.
A sharp pain in his back made him spin around and drop to his knees, releasing the gun. It thunked on the floor as Tang let go of the dagger stuck under their leader’s left shoulder blade. Croix’s blood rushed to leave his body through the open wound, every pump of the heart sending more of it to intermingle with Lucas’ own blood spattering on the balcony floor.
For the first time in a long time, Croix felt no pain, heard no whispers. It was so quiet and peaceful that he smiled in gratitude at Tang as he collapsed on the floor.
His brow creased at a tall, dark shadow with bright red eyes and elongated features hovering behind the boy. For a moment Croix found himself back in the dark forest, running away from the misty monsters chasing him. One of them caught up with him and raised a smoky finger. It morphed into a sharp dagger to stab him in the chest. Panic engulfed him, the metallic taste of blood filled his mouth and he screamed his last breath.
Barrett
Cursed with both a heavy sense of responsibility and a nervous disposition, Jennifer Barrett found it hard to stop her mind from racing. Whenever that happened, she could lay on her bed for hours mulling the events of the day before falling into an uneasy sleep. Tonight was no exception. If anything, sleep proved even more elusive than usual. Every time she closed her eyes, the image of Lucas pleading for his life sent a sob to cling in her throat. She had heard many tales of bravery in which the hero invariably faces death with dignity, or even contempt. Somehow this made it easier. Lucas, however, had begged for his life, and mercy had been denied to him. The surprise and despair on his face could not leave her mind. She cried herself to sleep.
She woke up in the middle of the night, wondering if she was still dreaming. And yet, the grey-haired man wearing a wool robe and a silver amulet felt as real as her sorrow. His presence startled her out of her sleep. Strangely enough, she felt no need to cry for help, although his eerie calmness and unemotional expression, much like a scientist studying his exhibit, unnerved her.
“Who are you?” she stammered.
“Just a friend.” He cocked his head, studying her with deep eyes, eyes older than time itself. “Dreadful business today, simply dreadful,” he muttered, sounding reassuring, yet distant.
“What are you doing in my room?”
He frowned at the question, as if it made no sense. “I’m waiting for you to wake up so we can discuss your verdict. Have you decided yet?”
“No.” She sighed and sank back into her bed.
He nodded in sympathy. “On one hand, these are your people, your children. How can anyone stay mad at children for long? On the other hand, justice must be served. Love and justi
ce, a fine balance indeed.”
He bobbed his head and pressed his lips, reminding her of an old law professor she had, a lifetime ago. She closed her eyes and rested her head, certain she was dreaming, but when she opened her eyelids, the old man was examining her with mild curiosity.
“What do you want?” she moaned.
“Merely to suggest a way that best serves balance. It’s what we do, you know.”
“Is it? Who are you, anyway?”
He made a dismissive motion with his hand and straightened a non-existing crease on his sleeve. “Not important. What’s important is –”
“I’m sorry, I need more than that.”
He was clearly not used to being interrupted, but she was a High Court Justice, not a little girl to be cowed into submission. When she refused to drop her glare, he relented with a soft sigh. “Very well, let’s just say we’re the natives.”
Her brow furrowed. “You don’t look like a First.”
Amusement followed bemusement in his face and he chuckled. “No, I’m not a First.” He pursed his lips; it was obvious she would not get anything more out of him.
“And your name?”
“Just call me Pratin,” he said, a thin smile crawling on his lips.
“Very well then. Now, why is this case so important?”
His eyebrows drew closer, somehow making his face look like a rubber mask. “Why? Because your decision will cause innumerable ripples. Right now, you’re the most important person on the planet. Generations will be affected by your decision.”
She turned her head away, her eyes suddenly wet. “What’s to decide? The madman’s dead.”
“Ah yes. An eye for an eye, isn’t that the expression? Indeed. Croix found swift justice in the hands of Ensign Tang. Surely Tang must be pardoned, then. Yet, half your people helped Croix. Don’t they bear any responsibility? What’ll happen next time someone decides to turn boys into tyrants?”
She shook her head. “That won’t happen”.
Pearseus Bundle: The Complete Pearseus Sci-fi/Fantasy Series Page 114
