Invasion

by L. E. Thomas

  And now she was soon departing for Atheron to finish her life in hard labor—the punishment for defying the will of the Empire.

  "Cadet?"

  Nat blinked and grew rigid in the chair. "My apologies, Captain Tox."

  He tilted his head and studied Nat as if he was a lab rat. "I know you're tired—I am, too." He leaned forward, interlocking his fingers in front of him. "But it's crucial I get as much information from you while it's fresh in your mind. Understood?"

  Holding Tox's gaze, Nat nodded and took a deep breath. "They ... uh, shot Cal in the head. I thought they were going to kill me, too. They stuck a sack over my head and forced me through the tunnels and—"

  "Stop there," Tox said, glancing at his tablet. "They killed your comrade after capturing you, but let you live. Why?"

  He swallowed. "I don't know."

  Tox paused long enough to allow Nat's face to warm as his heart rate increased. "I'll give you a minute," he said, crossing his arms over his chest. "After all, you've been through a lot."

  "I have no idea why they let me live."

  "They didn't ask anything of you?"

  "No."

  "They didn't question you?"

  Nat shifted in his seat. "No, not really."

  Tox cocked an eyebrow. "What does that mean?"

  Nat thought of his father. Jet said Kad was working for the resistance but didn't elaborate. If Tox knew of his father's existence with the rebels …

  He looked at Tox's calculating eyes for an instant, shuddering. Tox knew something he wasn't letting on.

  Nat clenched his jaw. He needed to offer Tox something or the Captain would become suspicious of his loyalties. "Jet told me about Tressa."

  "Your sister," Tox said without delay.

  "Yes."

  "What about her?"

  "He said she was about to be shipped to the prison on Atheron, said she was apprehended for joining the Tarra—the resistance." He swallowed, happy he’d caught himself before he said the former name of his planet.

  In the early days of the occupation, referring to the Tarrafa culture or local religions was forbidden and carried significant prison time. Thousands were sentenced to the re-education camps or banned to the reservations. It seemed most of the population older than him vanished overnight, the morning streets once choked with rush hour traffic now dotted with Hatchet Patrol Vehicles or Gladius light assault tanks. Perhaps Tox would be lenient of his slip up, but Nat braced himself all the same.

  Tox rested on his elbows, his dark eyes boring into Nat's. "And how did that make you feel?"

  "I felt nothing, Captain. Tressa made her decision to resist the Zahl. I cannot help her."

  For a long moment, Tox studied Nat without saying anything. He held his gaze, wondering if the Captain was going to arrest him. And then, without any warning, he smiled.

  "What you've been through would have to be tough for anyone, Cadet Hodges," Tox said, typing into his tablet. "Jet didn't ask you to join his cause?"

  He chewed on the inside of his lip, hesitating before he nodded.

  "And what did you say to that?"

  Nat shook his head. "I have taken an oath, Captain Tox. I serve the Zahl Empire. I will do so until my dying breath."

  Tox set the tablet down. "Terrific, Cadet Hodges. I see bright things on the horizon for you." He slid back the chair and stood. "You need to get some rest. You won't have to attend your lessons today or any of the PT. I'm granting you leave for one day to recover from your injuries. Doc says you have minor burns and need hydration, but nothing that'll keep you out of action too long. I don't want you falling behind."

  Nat stood and saluted. "I appreciate that, sir."

  Tox returned the salute and offered a hand.

  "The Empire makes it a point to reward those loyal in the service," Tox said with a nod as he released Nat's hand. "You helped bring down a major rebel cell and took this world one step closer to peace and order. You should be proud. I won't forget this. Dismissed."

  Nat spun on his heel and marched out, Tox's last words echoing in his mind.

  How had he helped take down the rebel cell? Was the run up The Beast part of the routine physical training? Or had the class of cadets been sent out there as bait to lure the rebels from hiding?

  As he entered the busy hallways of the Academy, thoughts raged. He wondered about Tox's true motives and how much he actually knew about the rebel cells. Nat was now aware his father was an active part of the resistance and was still alive. Ever since his training began, Tox had always been there to offer a word of encouragement about Nat's future. Now, he wondered if the attentiveness came from the actions of a concerned mentor or a Zahlian Captain hellbent on exorcising the last factions of resistance from Yesro Vraun.

  Nat wandered into the afternoon sunlight, squinting at the bright rays illuminating the city. He strolled to the gardens where the grand statues used to stand. He sat and stared at the ground, remembering the day the Zahl forces moved into the city in the final moments he, Kad and Tressa had all been in the same place. It seemed so long ago.

  Taking a deep breath, he turned to the sky as a shuttle took off from the port formerly serving as the Oshua military base. It was a class C shuttle, blocky with stunted wings sliding into place at it ascended over the skyscrapers. The nose tilted up, and the pilot eased more power into the forward thrusters as it flew into the atmosphere.

  Nat watched the craft become a faint speck of light, climbing higher as it moved away from the surface. To the North, the orbiting Justice appeared in a bluish haze. Beyond, the bright light of Atheron, brilliant blue, and twinkling, filled the sky and emerged as the first celestial body of the night as it always did. He bit his lip.

  It looked different tonight. Soon, it would be his sister's final resting place. The Zahl would work Tressa to death. There wasn't anything he could do.

  He shivered, the cold night air sweeping over the gardens.

  Nat brushed off his fatigue and marched toward the dormitories, repeating his statement regarding his sister's decision and trying to believe it.

  Chapter Twelve

  Nat guided the bootlace through the last opening and pulled it tight. The boot felt snug against his ankle, and he started on the left foot.

  "Can I join you?"

  He looked up to see Soola standing in the doorway of his dorm room. She wore her regulation red one-piece, the zipper down to her neck.

  "Sure," he said, looking back to his boot and focusing on the laces. "I'm running the perimeter."

  "Sounds good," she said, squatting and re-tying her shoe. "I'd love the distraction, to be honest."

  He didn't say anything, but he could hear in her voice she wanted to talk. He wasn't in the mood.

  For the past two weeks since the incident on the mountain, life had gone on about as typically as possible at the Academy. Classes continued. Instructors gave out grades. Physical training dragged. The empty seat left from Cal's absence, once evident and calling attention to itself, became standard for the first couple of days.

  Soon, the class chairs were rearranged, erasing all evidence there had once been a cadet sitting in the seat.

  No one spoke about the incident or the firefight on the mountainside. At the end of the first week, Nat saw Jaymed pulling guard duty at the main gate. He had raised his hand to greet the Marine, but Jaymed looked away as if he didn't recognize him.

  Later, as the incident replayed in his mind, Nat realized Jaymed didn't care to associate with a lowly cadet, much less one who was native born. They had survived a firefight, probably one of the countless other confrontations Jaymed had endured. It meant nothing to him. For Nat, the night plagued his mind in every idle moment.

  Soola had kept by his side during most lunches and dinners since The Beast, but she had said little. He didn't know if she had fired on the rebels, didn't really want to see if she had. Instead, they went to class and continued playing their roles as Zahlian cadets.

  Tox
hadn't asked him any further questions about his brief captivity with the local rebel cell. That had been just fine with Nat. Just thinking about the sterile room and the Captain's pressing questions made him sick.

  But there had been murmurs from other cadets, whispers between classes and sharp comments in the locker room. His comrades wanted to know what had happened in the mountains, but none had conjured up enough bravery to ask him about it. Rather than give them a chance at dinner, he had started grabbing a tanatart from the cafeteria and going on runs every evening instead. He'd lost four pounds in two weeks.

  They walked out into the corridor bathed in the golden and orange light of the setting sun beaming through the arched windows. The renovated city skyline glittered beyond like crystal spires. Soola's shoulder brushed his own, and he realized she was strolling very close to him.

  "Are you all right?" he asked out of the corner of his mouth as they weaved around a trio of cadets walking toward the cafeteria.

  "No, I don't think I am."

  Continuing in silence, they made their way toward the rear of the Academy to the training grounds. The setting sun cast long shadows over the oval tracks utilized for the running trials and physical tests. Pairs of cadets worked out with weights at the center of the tracks, but most of the area was empty.

  "Let's go," Nat said after he stretched.

  "Okay," she said quietly.

  He burst onto the track as if beginning a dash, running hard for several minutes. Soola stayed right with him, her eyes focused forward. By their third lap, the sun had disappeared behind the skyline, and the temperature dropped. The sweat felt cold and alien on his skin as they slowed to a jog.

  "I think I shot someone," Soola gasped, still facing forward.

  Nat glanced at her as they came into a curve. Her lips trembled, her eyes watering.

  "On the mountain?"

  She nodded.

  "You did what you had to do," he said, crossing over into the fourth lap and slowing. "Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?"

  She shrugged, and they started stretching, plopping to the track's edge. "I guess. I, well, I missed talking with you. When you went forward with Cal ... I thought I'd never see you again." She stared at him. "Scared me."

  Nat looked at his hands. "Me, too."

  "Some are saying there's a growing resistance out there."

  "What do you mean?"

  She glanced over her shoulder. "There's a leader some of the officers were whispering about. A Tarrafa native promising retaliation and a coming exodus."

  He snorted. "Nonsense."

  Screams echoed from the distance as a cool breeze came in across the track. Defiant voices mixed with a woman's cries. He stood and moved toward the sound. Soola followed. He stood at the fence line, peering into the city streets.

  Zahlian Marines had four local civilians lined up against the side of a building. The officer rifled through their bags and pockets, tossing their belongings onto the ground. Nearby, a woman cried out as she clutched an infant to her breast.

  "They didn't do anything!" she shouted, spitting toward the Marines. "We were getting our rations! We—"

  "Silence her," the officer said coolly, almost too low to be heard from this distance.

  A Marine squared off with the woman. Reaching his hand back, he slapped her across the face. Blood poured from her split lip, dripping onto the baby's soft forehead.

  Soola gasped, one hand flying to her mouth while the other tucked under Nat's bicep. He gripped the fence, unable to turn away from the scene.

  The officer turned around, holding a wallet high over his head. "It says here, Mister ... Lawrence, you are an assistant manager with a mining complex in the mountains."

  One man against the wall turned halfway around, his hands trembling overhead and his eyes bulging. "I did that before the occup—before t—t—the Zahl brought their light to our world."

  Nat winced at the recited "lines" all Tarrafa natives were forced to memorize in the early days of the re-education camps.

  "And you haven't been there recently?" the officer pressed.

  The man shook his head. "I haven't been there in two years, ever since the Zahl closed them down."

  The officer stomped as he paced in front of the four men lined against the wall, glancing at the Marines with their MC-17s trained on the unarmed civilians.

  "What if I told you the rebels have been using these very mountains to carry out their terrorist acts against the Empire? Hmm?" The officer stopped behind the accused, stepping closer to the man. "What if I told you I believe you have been helping the rebels create their extensive network of tunnels?"

  "It's a lie!" the man cried, sobbing as he wiped at his face. "I'm an old man. I have no place in the mines anymore."

  "Then how did a mine schematic with your initials end up in the hands of the rebels? Explain that!"

  “I—I—don't know! It was stolen!"

  "Stolen!" He threw back his head and laughed. "You wretched native insects are all the same, aren't you?"

  Nat's mouth went dry. Soola grabbed his hand as he searched the streets, but all civilian traffic had disappeared because of the curfew.

  "For crimes against the Empire," the officer shouted as if he read from a declaration, "I sentence you and your compatriots to die for conspiring to commit terroristic acts against the Zahl Empire."

  The other three men spun around. "I don't even know this man!" the tallest of the four shouted. "I didn't do anything—"

  A laser blast exploded into his face. He fell.

  Another captive sprinted from the wall, running for his life as he tried to make it down an alley. As the oldest man stood still, the final prisoner scurried down the street, running with his head lowered as if it would help avoid any repercussions.

  The Marines were faster.

  In a flurry of fire, they executed all four civilians including the old man whom the officer dispatched with his pistol. Nat jolted at the sound of laser rifles, his mind instantly flashing back to the firefight on the mountainside.

  "My stars," Soola cried, both hands flying to her mouth. "Those ... people!"

  Nat put his arm around her, and she sobbed into his chest. He clenched his teeth, watching as the Marines left the four bodies in the street. They boarded a Hatchet parked nearby and drove away.

  More laser blasts erupted, single shots like crackles of thunder, flashing through the city.

  His jaw dropped as he listened to the shots followed by the wails of the survivors, crying for loved ones they had just witnessed being murdered in what had once been their hometown.

  "Retaliation," he whispered.

  Soola stopped sobbing. "For what?"

  "The rebels in the mountains," he breathed. "They destroyed our APC, killed a Marine and wounded many more. Now that they know the resistance has been using the mines, anyone with a mining background is a suspect. This is what will happen to the resistance." He swallowed. "There will be no uprising, no exodus."

  Another flurry of laser shots punctuated his point. Soola started crying again.

  "The world's upside down," she said between sobs, burying her face into his shoulder. “I—I don't understand."

  He held her closer, unable to say more as he listened to the Zahlian forces work their way through the city. They had waited until nightfall when the curfew was in effect. The suspects would be in their assigned apartments, easy for the military to find.

  He stared back at the bodies on the pavement. The woman holding the infant stared at the fallen for several moments before moving away, her feet dragging on the sidewalk.

  Turning his gaze skyward as the cries from the victimized filled the air, he stared at the piercing blue ember of Atheron. His sister's shuttle had departed already, and he knew her life would be even worse than those left in the capital.

  I can't leave her there, he thought. No one deserves that fate.

  Shaking his head, he tapped Soola's shoulder. "Come on. Let's ge
t you inside. No one needs to hear this."

  Chapter Thirteen

  The final Trident exploded into three pieces. The burning fuselage streaked across the atmosphere, crashing into the simulated planet labeled Earth. Nat leaned back, watching the enemy's wings disintegrate, breaking apart into fiery embers like a meteor shower. The screen went dark, and the simulator's canopy whistled open, the servos whining.

  Nat took off his gloves and turned to face a grinning Tox who carried a tablet in both hands.

  "You get better and better, Cadet," he said with a hint of approval. "Four kills in the Legion backwater scenario. A personal best for you."

  Nat allowed a tight smile as he slipped out of the simulator. He asked in the Zahl language, "Are we going another round?"

  Tox shook his head. "I think we've had enough for one afternoon." He addressed the other eleven cadets rising from their simulators. "Everyone but Cadet Hodges is dismissed. Chow's in twenty."

  Soola gave a shallow bow in Nat's direction, and he waved it off. Over the past year, she’d enjoyed treating him as "royalty" whenever Tox asked him to stay after class or a simulation run.

  The sim room emptied. Cadets conversed in hushed tones as they left, most of them serious about the upcoming exams that could determine their first assignments in the Zahlian Navy following graduation in four months. Tox turned toward the windows as the shields raised, allowing sunlight to beam into the room. Nat stepped behind Tox and stood at attention.

  For several moments, Tox said nothing. He stared down at the tablet, his back still toward Nat.

  His stomach grumbled, and he wondered if Tox would keep him long. It was a good thing the Zahl didn't have psychic abilities, or Nat would have been court martialed.

  Ever since the shootout on the mountainside nearly two years ago, the Empire's grip on Yesro Vraun had only tightened in that time as more of the native civilians were removed from the city and placed into reservations throughout the countryside. The beating heart of his former country had been removed, cast out into the rural spaces once designated for cattle, crops, and vineyards. The native population including all the people Nat had ever known in his life were being systematically transplanted to the guarded swathes of land or the brutal re-education centers.