The Mission_A New Earth Novella

by MJ McGriff

I gritted my teeth and put the gun down. This wasn’t about my ego. This was about saving the lives of the people left both in my sector and in Sector B. It was about the mission to make New Earth a much better place. We had to live to fight another day. I didn’t want everyone to die out before we even got a chance to do better. I had to lock my emotions away again.

  I had to be hard. Not feel a thing. I didn’t say a word as I helped Oliver up those steps into the tower house. None of my facial muscles twitched as I listened to him explain to them the terms of their departure. I didn’t hesitate as I gave them the code to unlock Verona’s cell. My mouth was silent as I stood outside and listened to them send a message on their comm ear pieces calling their people to the guardhouse. Oliver stayed at my side the whole time. They came out of the black smoke like insects, scurrying away toward the eastern wall into the forest. Verona was the last to emerge from the guardhouse, her hands not even restrained. She stopped, a few yards of grass between her and me. A man stood beside her, his sidearm holstered.

  My fingers went to the trigger of the gun I still held at my side.

  She never took her eyes off me. My focus was on her reaching for his sidearm.

  It never made it out of the holster.

  I raised my gun and shot her where I’d intended to in the first place.

  Right between her eyes.

  She crumpled to the ground. Those around her raised their guns and pointed them at me. Oliver jumped in front of me, putting his hands up. “She was going to shoot me!” Oliver said. “India was just protecting me.”

  No, I wasn’t. I was protecting myself. I didn’t say a word.

  “Why would she do that?” the man who was standing beside her cried.

  “Because she doesn’t believe in our true cause,” Oliver said. “She doesn’t believe we can achieve what we want without further bloodshed.”

  No one seemed to be buying it.

  “If we all die here we all lose,” Oliver continued. “Let us go to fight another day. Please.”

  I turned around and saw at least twenty uniformed officers running toward us, guns in hands. I jumped in front of them, waving my hands at them to stop. “Stop! Don’t shoot!”

  The one leading them was Clarke. “Get out of the way, Wilson,” he said, his gun trained on Oliver standing behind me.

  “No. The only way we can put an end to this is to let them go.” The words pierced my throat as I said it.

  “What?”

  “We won’t be doing anyone any favors by all dying here,” I explained. “I know this goes against everything we stand for, but we’re in no position for another firefight.”

  I turned to Oliver. “Leave now.”

  “Thank you for keeping your word,” he said.

  “After today I won’t have a say in what happens, so if you make plans to come back, I can’t guarantee anything.”

  He nodded, and I walked back to my fellow officers.

  Everyone slowly lowered their guns.

  The sun began to rise as Oliver and his people left our sector, taking Verona’s lifeless body with them.

  Chapter 15

  Gray skies loomed over the Memorial Service held a week later. Everyone gathered in front of what remained of the main building—a blackened shell of what used to be the main lobby. Wreaths of purple and pink flowers lay across the ground in front of it. Just a few months ago there were close to eight hundred people living in Sector A. Now we were down to six hundred. Despite the cooler air and low humidity, I felt like I was suffocating in my blue dress uniform, standing in the front row, waiting for my father to speak at the podium. Clarke found him in time, injured near the perimeter wall. While he was alive he wasn’t up for this. He wasn’t ready to speak to the citizens of Sector A and B, who were pale with fear being there. Flo was one of them, squeezing my hand so tight it almost hurt.

  I wasn’t afraid. Nor was I sad.

  I was determined, like my father.

  He emerged from the right side of the crowd, his uniform impeccable. He barely limped, though still used a cane to walk up to the podium. We locked eyes, neither one of us giving in to the gravity of what had happened a few days ago. He needed to be strong. I was going to help him do that. He nodded at me and turned to the crowd.

  “We gather here today to remember the lives of the beautiful souls we lost. There’s nothing I can do or say that can take away the pain we all feel this day. I can never replace President Michael Reynolds, who gave his life to protect us and the future our forefathers envisioned for us. What I can say to all of you here is it’s up to us to continue his legacy. To protect the dream he and every president before us had done. We are a strong and resilient people. We’ve endured decades in space. We braved an unknown planet and created a life here. When our children and their children look back on this sad and tumultuous time, they’ll see how much we’ve overcome. Because we will rebuild. We will restore the life we’ve come to know and love while leaving room to make it that much better. That will be my mission as your acting president from this day and long after I’m replaced in the Score Elections.”

  My dad made his closing remarks and when he left the podium the crowd dispersed. Flo and I followed, walking in front of the memorial, past the security officers guarding it, and away from judging eyes. When we were alone Flo stopped me.

  “You gotta talk about it, India.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about.” I turned to walk away, but she jumped in front of me.

  “You are falling apart.”

  “I’m fine—”

  “Bullshit. You don’t sleep. You barely eat. You won’t even see your dad.”

  I looked up at the sky, the clouds getting darker. It was going to rain soon. “We should get back to transports before it rains.”

  “India.”

  “Florence!”

  She jumped. I’d never called her by her full first name before.

  “Drop it,” I said in a softer tone. “Please.”

  By the time we made it to the Quad, large droplets of rain fell from the sky. It was a matter of time before the sky opened up into a full-on rainfall. Dozens of ground vehicles, from trucks to canvas covered two-seaters lined up around the old Fourth Gen hangout place. They were waiting to take everyone back to Sector B. That was our home now.

  Other mourners had the same idea, piling into the vehicles. I started to climb into the back of a truck already occupied with a few civilians when someone tapped me on my shoulder. It was Clarke, one of the few security officers who didn’t hate my guts.

  “The president sent me to get you.”

  “Tell him I’ll see him when we get back,” I said.

  Clarke gave me a slight smile. “He told me not to take no for an answer.”

  I left Flo there and followed Clarke to the second vehicle in the line. It was an armored security vehicle used to transport criminals to the brig. Two officers sat in the passenger seat while my father sat alone in the back. I climbed in and sat down on the hard bench across from him, keeping my eyes on the floor.

  “I’m worried about you,” he said softly.

  “Why? I’m fine.”

  He got up and sat down next to me. “You forget I’m your father. I know better.”

  “Look, if you’re getting ready to tell me how stupid I was for not leaving the sector with everyone else or how I had no business even going down to the brig in the first place you don’t have to. I already know how much I screwed everything up.” I heard it in the whispers around the temporary housing camps in Sector B. I was the one who let Oliver and his people get away. I was the screwup who let the president die down there. I was the one who put everyone in danger every day those traitors ran free. There was no need to add my father’s disappointment on top of that. It would be the straw that broke me.

  He put his arm around me, and I looked up at him. “I could’ve never been more proud of you than I am right now.”

  “Wait...what?”

  �
��You made a call that saved lives.”

  “But everyone hates me! They said I let them get away.”

  “Everyone doesn’t know what it means to be a leader. You remembered what I’d taught you about making those tough decisions under pressure.”

  I nodded. “Yes...I did.”

  “So you know better than to doubt your decision. Had you not let them go, many more people would’ve died and they would’ve gotten away regardless. They caught us with our pants down. That won’t happen again.”

  I wiped my tears with the back of my hand and laid my head on my dad’s shoulder. “I couldn’t save the president, Dad.”

  He hugged me tighter. “No one could have.”

  The vehicle started to move slow at first but picked up the pace. “You were right.”

  “About what?”

  “About them. I shouldn’t have trusted them and I shouldn’t have doubted you.”

  He rested his chin on my head. “Don’t apologize for trying to see the good in people. Truth is, you made a lot of sense when it came to the New Earth Charter. Nothing should be taken as gospel for legacy’s sake.”

  “So what do we do?”

  “What we’ve always done. Adapt.”

  Two Years Later

  No one could’ve picked a better day. The sun was a bright, white jewel, shining down on the freshly cut grass. It was a little warm for a spring day, but the gentle breezes made it comfortable to be outdoors. Little blue songbirds tweeted from the trees outside the perimeter walls and there wasn’t a rain cloud in the sky. It was the perfect day for the official reopening of Sector A. The delicious smell of roasting meats was in the air as I stepped down from the ground vehicle at the new Transport Station by the north gate. It was more like a one-room cube than a station. The manager greeted us before scanning our traveling bracelets. The old man turned red when he realized who I was, but I gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

  “I hope to see you at the festivities,” I said to him, and he smiled.

  Flo was the next to get scanned, and we walked with the others to get a look at our new Capital Center.

  Unlike the old Sector A, governing officials were the only ones who lived there. Their housing units were located way at the farther end of the compound, closest to the mountains where it was impossible to get to from the outside. The old rock sculpture in the Quad was now an artistic center, with murals painted on slabs of stone. Instead of Fourth Gen kids hanging out at the rocks, little kids were trying their hand at creating something cool and creative. The old Launder House, Mess Hall—even the Ration House—were all gone. Instead, there were new buildings of white and gray stone. Along the northern border of the sector was a fenced-off campus of buildings. That was to serve as the new training academy for soldiers.

  As for the main building? It looked less like the Resurgence spaceship and more like the Old Earth buildings my father used to show me images of as a kid. Two floors of solid white rock hauled in from the mountains behind it. In front of it was a pretty garden of purple and pink flowers from the rolling hills on the other side of the river. These bright-colored plants surrounded small plaques with the names of the people we’d lost two years prior.

  “I hardly recognize this place,” Flo said. “It feels more...what’s the word?”

  “Official,” I said. “It feels like we’ve officially gotten back on our feet.”

  “Yeah...I guess that’s it. I can’t help but still feel uneasy sometimes.”

  I felt on edge in those first few months since it happened. But as days turned into weeks, months, and now years, there was no sign of Oliver or his people. The commune was torched to the ground by the time my dad and his team found it. They’d combed several miles in every direction. Nothing.

  A cheery voice over the intercom called for everyone to congregate on the main lawn for the president’s speech. Flo and I jogged over there to get as close as possible to the podium. Though I felt my father would’ve given a much better speech had he still been president, I was anxious to hear what our new leader, Richard Almonte, would have to say. I would finally find out if the rumors were true.

  We could only make it to the second row, noticing my dad was already there. I playfully tapped him on the shoulder.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked. “I thought a chief advisor’s place was up there for important speeches.”

  He smiled, showing the new wrinkles in his face. “I wanted to hear his speech with you.”

  “But don’t you know what he’s going to say, though?” Flo asked.

  He grinned and turned back to the podium. People started to clap and cheer as President Almonte took the stage. He was younger than most leaders we’d had—in his early forties—with short, auburn hair and tanned skin. He looked the part in his navy blue suit and red tie. When he opened his mouth to speak, he had the confidence of someone who had been doing this for years.

  As with every speech of his, he spent the first ten minutes with pleasantries, comments on the weather, and how grateful he was to be serving as president. Then, he finally got to the part I, along with everyone else, was waiting to hear.

  “It is only fitting that on the two-year anniversary of the fateful day that took the lives of so many of our loved ones, that I present to you the Federation Amendment to our New Earth Charter. A fresh start calls for a fresh look at our governing body of laws and how we can make life here on this glorious planet a much better one for everyone. There’s no better way to honor their memory than by carrying on the mission our Old Earth forefathers tasked us with. While I won’t get into the nitty-gritty details, I will say that this new amendment will allow for the creation of a federation of colonies, governed by representatives you elect. No one knows the colony better than the people who live there. It will put the fate and future of your home and our federation as a whole in your hands. A central government will no longer decide who does and does not deserve to eat or have the resources needed to live a prosperous life. You will be the pioneers of this great nation. You will help decide how our race of people will thrive on this planet. You will help discover all its wonders and innovate ways to put it to use.”

  The crowd cheered and I was speechless. My father put his arm around me and hugged me tight. “It’s all because of you. I told you, you were right.”

  I was right. I actually got one thing right out of that whole tragic event. Our way of life needed to change. Part of what had happened with Oliver and his people was due to the old ways not working. We were finally going to give change a try and we, the people living there, the people who’d survived, were going to have a crucial part in making that happen.

  Once the speech was over the party kicked into high gear. People picked every open space they could to cook food, serve beer, and play music. Flo dragged me to a group of musicians—a violinist and a couple of guys with small guitars—who were playing a joyous and addictive melody. Before I knew it, I was twirling and dancing with the onlookers there. I got way into the music, twirling around so fast I lost my footing and crashed into Clarke, of all people. The beer in his hand spilled over on both of us, showing up more on his white shirt than my dark blue blouse.

  “Crap!” I said. “I’m so sorry, Clarke.”

  “Dammit, India!” He looked down at his brown stained shirt. “Now you owe me another beer.” He lifted his gaze at me, and we both started laughing.

  “You’re lucky I want one, too.”

  I left Flo dancing with one of the Todd brothers and walked with Clarke to the beer stand not far from the Quad. I dug into my pocket to get a service voucher to pay for it, but the man wouldn’t hear of it. “You are Wilson’s daughter,” the toothless man said. “The beer is on me!” He handed us two wooden mugs.

  “Bottoms up, Wilson,” Clarke said, smirking.

  We clanged our mugs and chugged down the bitter brew. It burned as it went down my throat and I swore I was already feeling dizzy. I glanced upward and saw a black do
t darting around in the sky. I put my mug down, shielding my eyes to get a better look. It was flying too sporadically to be a bird. First right, zigging left, then dropping down low enough to see its skinny little mechanical arms.

  “You guys flying drones today?” I asked.

  “Why does the former security shift leader want to know?” he said before wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve. Just because I was working as an explorer now didn’t mean I gave up my security officer hunches.

  I pointed upward, and he saw it too. “That’s strange. All drones are grounded today for repairs.”

  The drone shot upward and then started flying east. “You got your gun on you?” I asked him.

  He lifted up his shirt, his weapon tucked in the front of his pants. “Let me guess, we’re going to chase after that thing.”

  I didn’t answer. I took his mug and sat it down next to mine, then started jogging after it. It was high in the sky, the sunlight making it difficult to see, but we still kept going in the general direction. We reached the gate and it dipped down, flying under the canopy of green leaves. Clarke got us through with his security card, and we picked up the pace, running through the same path I’d taken two years earlier. My uneasiness turned to pure dread and I couldn’t understand why.

  The drone slowed down, starting to zig and zag again. The sound of rushing water was only a few feet in front of us.

  “Give me your gun,” I whispered to him, just in case that thing had audio.

  Clarke handed it to me, the weapon feeling weird in my hands. I hadn’t carried one since I’d quit the security force a year and a half ago. I hoped I hadn’t lost my touch.

  I aimed my gun at it, following its erratic patterns for almost minute.

  Then it started to fly straight. I inhaled, pulling the trigger on the exhale.

  I hit the drone dead-on, the machine smoking and sparking before crashing to the ground.

  “If that was one of ours, your dad is going to be pissed,” Clarke commented as I handed the gun back to him.