by Richard Fox
In the morning horizon, a great inverted pyramid hung over Phoenix. It spun ever so slowly, the sun’s rays cutting against its sharp, miles-long angles.
A moan of despair rose from the refugees.
“Earth has been liberated,” Hoffman continued. “Your world that you came from was liberated. And now the Synod, in their wisdom, has chosen to relocate all freed humans back to Earth. The Synod offers you food, housing, medical care, and real work to support yourself. All you must do is accept a small burden.”
He took a small wire device off his belt. Small jewels glittered in the sun’s rays.
“This is your harness. It goes on painlessly. This will tie you in to the city’s emergency network so that you will be safe. Accept the harness, obey the Commissars, and you will be cared for and protected.”
He dropped the harness to his side.
“Fight, you are not the only ones that will be punished. Those you’re assigned to work with will face sanction. Your family…will face sanction. You will make this choice before me in the next few minutes. Safety and security…or death. Choose wisely.”
****
“You can go fuck yourself,” an older woman snarled at Hoffman. Her head jutted forward and a glob of spit hit Hoffman’s uniform tunic. She smirked then looked at the pair of guards flanking him.
They were inside a converted cargo container, just big enough for a small table for Hoffman to sit behind. There were two doors to Hoffman’s right, one red and one green.
“Red.” Hoffman tapped a button on a screen built into the table and one of the guards lumbered forward, grabbed the woman by the arm, dragged her to the red door and shoved her through.
Hoffman heard her scream for a few moments, then go suddenly silent.
“Next.” Hoffman dabbed a tissue at his tunic as a refugee family shuffled in from the other side of the container. The father’s clothes were two sizes too big, and his face looked deflated. This was a man that used to enjoy his food but had gone without for the last few months. The mother wore an extra coat and had a visible baby bump. She had one toddler on her hip and led a little girl by the hand.
“The Wilsons.” Hoffman swiped through a form. “Welcome home.” He paused at the medical scan of the wife. One box pulsed red.
“Ask him,” the little girl said, tugging at the mother’s hand.
“Hush!” The woman gave Hoffman a furtive look.
“Three children gets your family a bonus to your calorie ration and a spice allotment that goes a long way to making meals better,” Hoffman said. “Have you made your decision?”
“What happens if we say no?” the father asked.
“Michael,” his wife hissed.
“What I promised hasn’t changed.” Hoffman leaned back. “You refuse the harness and refuse to work, then the best you can hope for is exile. I don’t know what you’ve heard, but I will tell you the ground truth. All exiles are dropped many hundreds of miles from any city under control of the Synod. They give you nothing. Survival is on your own. Then the Synod will release soldiers and…other things…to hunt for anyone in the wild. If you find a group of others? If they don’t kill you immediately, the larger your group, the higher the chance that you’ll be harvested by the Synod.”
“He’d do it,” the wife whispered.
“You…have another child?” Hoffman asked and the family went stiff. “Shows up on your bio scan. Pelvic bone.”
“A boy,” Michael Wilson said. “Fifteen. We were separated when they—when they took us from our settlement on Bern. Is there any way you can…can see if he’s somewhere in your system? There weren’t that many with us during the passage.”
Hoffman paused, letting them stew on the decision he’d made as soon as they’d asked. The Commissariat monitored everything, and it helped to keep up appearances. He tapped a finger on one side of the screen, then pulled down a menu and initiated a DNA trace.
“Let’s chat a bit,” Hoffman said, tapping in a command. “Accept the harness and you must work. Whatever the Synod requires. Fail to meet quotas and it won’t be you that’s exiled.” He kept eye contact with the father and then glanced from the little girl back to her father. “You will have the option to be exiled as well,” Hoffman said to him.
“People abandon their children?” the mother asked.
“Mommy, what?” the girl asked.
“And you may be required to foster other children,” Hoffman said. “With a calorie allotment increase, of course.”
“Does it hurt?” the girl asked. “The soul thief?”
“Carra!” The mother turned to one side and pulled the girl behind her.
Hoffman unzipped his tunic at the shoulder and pulled it open. He tilted his head back and showed the harness embedded around the base of his neck. He stood and turned around, showing the wires up and down the back of his neck.
“I never feel it,” Hoffman said. “It stings for a moment when it’s first attached, but that’s it. The harness will preserve your spirit in case you’re in a tragic accident. It’s very kind of the Synod to do this for us.”
The screen on his desk beeped.
“Ah, we’re in luck.” Hoffman swiped up and a holo appeared over the desk. Drone footage showed refugees squatting in a dusty pen. A teenage boy paced back and forth along the fence line.
“Eric!” the mother shouted and the little girl squealed with delight.
“Let me speak to him please,” Michael pleaded. “He’s headstrong. Very religious. If he thinks we’re dead, then he’ll choose to be exiled. Let me reason with him, I’m begging you.”
“I can’t.” Hoffman cut the feed. “I don’t have that access to the security drones. But I can get Eric through this station and I will tell him you all are alive. That’s the best I can do. Now, are you choosing exile or the harness?”
“He won’t believe you,” the mother said. “He…he has certain beliefs about you and your kind.”
“Here, show him this.” The father dug into his pants and pulled out a thick golden ring. On one side was a crest of a Terran Union military academy; on the other was an embossed shield and a motto. “My name’s inside. He’ll listen if you show him that.”
“Tell him he’s my Armor.” The girl peeked over the edge of the table. “He’ll know it’s me too.”
Hoffman leaned toward her and put a finger over his lips. “Don’t talk about Armor, little one,” Hoffman said, then leaned back. “Running out of time. What’s your choice?”
“The h-harness,” Michael said. “We’ll take the harness.”
Hoffman reached onto the desk and took the ring.
“Green door. If your son sees reason, I’ll pass this off to him and get him in the same resettlement block as you all. It’ll be up to you to find him.” Hoffman pointed to the appropriate door and the family shuffled out.
He held up the ring and examined it under the lights. A Naval Academy class ring, one made of gold and more than a few precious stones.
“Sure hope that kid sees reason.” He put the ring in his pocket, then opened a line to Mankowitz in selection station nine. He owed Hoffman a favor.
****
Hoffman shrugged off his uniform top and tossed it in the garbage. No amount of soap was going to get the mess out of the sleeves. His apartment was small, with a single bed and miniscule kitchen. He went to the fridge and pulled out an unlabeled bottle of beer and screwed the top off before he sank into a lumpy couch.
His knees ached, as did his back. The line between the pain being caused by age or old war wounds got fuzzier as the days went on.
He took a slate out of his pocket and ordered a new set of uniforms—unlimited requisition points for those in his position—and looked hard at a video app. Everything he could watch was heavily censored, but sometimes he’d find a classic that still had some of the original dialogue.
The cushion vibrated beneath him and he froze. He waited for the sensation to return, then he ripped open the s
titching on one side and dug out a plastic case just big enough to hold a toothbrush.
He opened the video app on his slate, set the volume to max, then pushed one end of the case against his skull behind an ear.
“Saint alpha, you secure?” a modulated voice asked. The words came through bone vibration direct to his ear, making it harder for any listening devices to pick up both sides of their conversation.
“Saint alpha, clear,” Hoffman said. His heart began pounding in his chest and he felt sweat break out across his body.
“We’ve got ourselves a silver bullet, old man,” Masha said. “You seen anything come across your screens?”
“If I did, I’d be the one activating the cell, wouldn’t I? Don’t play the ‘I’ve got a secret’ game. Get to the point.”
“You’ve never been any fun. You know that? You wouldn’t believe what I’ve had to go through to get this information. What’s the worst you have to deal with? A little pee-pee poo-poo thrown at you?”
“Today, I had to spend half an hour convincing an idiot teenager that his family was alive and he had to take the harness and be with them at the expense of his immortal soul. You think that was fun? Did you call just to make me regret all those times I had a chance to kill you and didn’t?”
“I appreciate poor Strike Marine marksmanship, don’t worry about that. Now back to our silver bullet…it’s a Hale. From Terra Nova.”
Hoffman’s brows shot up. “That’s impossible.”
“There’s a Geist pyramid ship hanging over Phoenix and we’re working together like bosom buddies. Let’s not be too strict on what’s impossible. Elias—‘Ely’ in all Commissar records; those bastards really know how to hold a grudge—Hale is at Memorial Hospital under guard. There’s some Qa’Resh tech involved, but I don’t have all the details.”
“Getting him…getting him out of the hospital really is impossible—unless he brought a battalion of Armor with him from Terra Nova. The Geist have the city center locked down cold.”
“Which is why we need to wait until they move him. None of the Synod are in Phoenix—believe me. Whenever they move, void traffic control gets tangled for hours. The kid’s got a piece of a Qa’Resh probe in his head. This is a key piece of technology, Hoffman. Do I have to paint the picture for you?”
“Wait…how do you know all this from up at the Crucible? Tell me you didn’t, Masha.”
“The implant is in play.”
“Goddamn you, that’s our only ace in the hole and you’re using it on a kid?” Hoffman sprang to his feet and mashed one palm against his face as a migraine came on.
“The implant activated himself. Guess he’s not as shut off as we thought. We need to get Ely Hale off Earth, Hoffman. Operation Trap Door is in effect.”
“How am I supposed to sell this to my team? Because we’ve got one shot at this and then the Crusade is done on Earth, Masha. You understand that, don’t you? My cell hasn’t been sleeping this long just to get some kid off world. No matter whose kid it is.”
“Did you think this was a democracy, knuckle dragger? The implant knows the situation better than anyone and it’s his call. Get your people ready.”
“We’re burned after this, Masha. The chances that any of us will get out alive aren’t great.”
“It’s a suicide-ish mission. Always has been. I’ll signal you when there’s a transfer order on the target. For the Lady, Hoffman.”
“For us all.” The line clicked dead and Hoffman sat back on his couch.
“I hate spies,” he said and picked up his beer from the floor, drinking it as fast as he could.
Chapter 6
“My son can tell you more once he’s been treated. Hale. Out.” The hologram of Ken Hale snapped off.
Ely moved his hand over the slate with the projector, then let his hand fall by his side. He looked at a half-eaten meal on a tray, then over to the window where Phoenix’s illuminated skyline stood against the dark of night.
He went to the window and leaned his hands against the sill. His head hung low and he bumped his forehead against the glass gently.
“Are you up early or late?”
Ely sprang away from the window and whirled around. Shannon was in the doorway, a smile on her face.
“I think I’m still on Terra Nova time,” Ely said. “And I’ve had a lot to think about. So I think I’m up late, technically.”
“Time skips are rare but not completely unknown to us. There was the thirty-year jump of the Saturn Colonial Mission, but that was with every single human that survived the Xaros invasion, so it wasn’t too much of a shift. Then there was the Breitenfeld and your parents after the mission to a deep-void site.” She stepped inside and the door shut behind her. She glanced at his tray as she walked toward him. “Food not to your liking?”
“No appetite, sorry.”
“You’ve been through a lot.” She clasped her hands in front of her. “You had a home in Terra Nova, and now here you are.”
“Admiral Valdar,” Ely said, his eyes shining. “Can I see him? He’s my godfather, but more of a grandpa. I’m sure he half expected to never see me again after we left for Terra Nova, but he’s the closest thing I’ve got to family out here.”
“Admiral Valdar is…unavailable,” Shannon said. “A lot has happened since you left, Ely. Would you like to learn more?”
“Unavailable? What does that even mean? He was on some sort of a mission to find Dotari lost in deep space when we left. Isn’t he back yet?”
“How about you and I go for a walk?” Shannon raised a hand and traced a symbol in the air. A chest rose up out of the floor, along with a thick curtain on a rod next to it. “Change clothes. A hospital smock’s no good for being out and about, yes?”
“Um…sure.” Ely moved behind the curtain for some privacy and rummaged through the chest. “It’s all monochrome tunics and slacks.”
“Fashion trends move ever on, Mr. Hale,” Shannon said. “Why waste time and mental energy managing a wardrobe? Wearing what’s simple and practical is an upgrade.”
“Least it’s all my size.” Ely stepped out from around the curtain in a simple dark-gray outfit and stuffed his feet into a pair of worn boots. “Maybe you can explain why that window’s fake?”
Shannon cocked her head slightly to one side.
“There’ve been a couple power spikes. I spotted error lines in the HD matrix when they happened. Photo-realistic hologram, pretty neat,” he said, touching his chest where the dog tags had bunched up. He smoothed them out.
“Colonial tech used on less desirable worlds,” Shannon said. “You might live on a Mars analog, but at least you can look out to a Hawaiian beach over breakfast—some motivation to keep at those terraforming efforts, not that that’s relative anymore. So we used the tech to give every patient the best view. Better than a beige wall, don’t you think?”
“Sure, not too bad.” Ely tested the fit on his boots. “So where we going?”
“The heart of Phoenix,” she said and smiled. “Curfew’s still in effect, so we’ll have the streets all to ourselves. Don’t worry; so long as you’re with me, there won’t be any problems.”
Ely followed her out into the hallway. The pair of guards stayed at their post. The hospital was dead silent all around them, and each of the rooms they passed was dark and not lit from within.
“Slow day?” Ely put his hands to the glass of a room and tried to peer inside.
“This hospital is for VIPs only,” Shannon said. “More privacy for those that need it.”
“What is it you do, exactly?” Ely asked as they got into a lift.
“I’m with the Commissariat. Internal security. That sort of thing. We may need to get you an ID soon. No reason to keep you in the hospital if you’re able to be out and about.”
“Do I need an ID? Figure I can just walk up to anyone and say ‘Hi, I’m Elieee. I’m E-lieeee sss. What the hell? What can’t I say my name?”
“Just a little bit o
f conditioning.” Shannon tapped the side of her head. “Things have changed since you left, Ely. Some things aren’t allowed anymore.”
“I can’t say my name?”
“You’ll understand in a little bit. Perhaps a coffee before we leave?”
“No, I’m awake as it is. Eee-luh. Eee-sss. That is so weird. Can you change it back?”
“No need, Ely. There won’t be any need for that.”
The lift doors opened to a bare hallway. There was a shuffling sound. Ely stepped out and saw a man in dark blue coveralls walking toward him. The man’s head was down and he dragged two bags of garbage on the floor beside him. A silver filigree wound around his neck and up his jaw.
“Oh, excuse me,” Ely put his back to the wall as the man shuffled by without any indication he knew Ely was there. The man’s eyes were pure silver.
“Don’t mind him,” Shannon took Ely by the elbow and led him through a short hallway. “Automation systems have changed somewhat.”
“Was that like a doughboy or something?” Ely asked.
“Those abominations? Never.” She raised a hand to a double glass door and there was a heavy click as locks disengaged. The doors opened and painfully dry air blew over Ely. He put a hand over his nose and mouth.
“Uh…sinuses weren’t ready,” he said.
A slight smile crossed Shannon’s face. Identical skyscrapers stretched to the horizon behind her, and running lights of drones and aircraft winked in the night.
“You’re a spacer. You’ll have to get used to being dirtside again. Didn’t your parents carry you from planet to planet while Ken Hale was in charge of the Pathfinder Corps?” she asked. “Follow me.”
“Jerry and I did see a bunch of places when we were kids. Then Dad got tapped for the Terra Nova mission and we spent a lot more time in Phoenix while he was getting all that—wait a minute.” He turned around and walked backwards, then pointed to a cluster of buildings in the distance. “What happened to Peace Tree Gardens? I used to live there. It was like…ninety stories tall.”
