by Easton Royce
A foot came flying out of nowhere, catching Cooper in his gut and bringing him down. He retaliated with a kick to the kneecap. His assailant yelped with pain and buckled to the ground. Cooper scrambled to his feet and took off—but he'd been slowed down just enough for the others to catch up with him. Before he could go two steps they were on either side of him. They grabbed him and threw him hard to the ground. His face, already bruised, grew a new welt as it hit the hard plasti-crete floor.
Two men wrenched his hands behind his back as he lay on the ground, pulling his arms nearly out of their sockets.
Behind him, he heard Davis, the leader of the deadly little squad, say two words that chilled Cooper down to his aching bones.
"Check him!"
A knee jabbed into his spine. Cooper struggled hard, but he couldn't stop them from grabbing the back of his long hair and pulling it up. There was a circular naval at the base of his skull. It was the one telltale sign that he was an In-Vitro.
While the others held him, Davis stalked close. "I knew it," said Davis. "A Tank. I can smell 'em—like an animal."
Davis's voice was deep and rang with the kind of hatred that cried of murder. "I told the foreman not to hire him," he growled. "Get him up!"
The two others pulled Cooper to his feet so Davis could look him in the face.
"I had two uncles die in the AI Wars 'cause the Tanks wouldn't fight," snarled Davis.
"I was still in the tank," insisted Cooper, who hadn't really been "born" until he'd been pulled from the tank when he was eighteen. "I had nothin' to do with the war!"
Davis tossed him a crooked grin. "Then you're even more worthless than I thought."
"I never asked to be born," Cooper reminded him.
"Too bad," said Davis. "But now you can ask to die."
Thn others looped a steel chain around Cooper's neck.
"Go on," said Davis. "Ask."
Even in the dim light, Cooper could almost see himself reflected in Davis's eyes. A pathetic waste of life. That's how everyone saw him. He had lived a useless existence; he would die a meaningless death. And no one would mourn his death, any more than people would mourn when the tanks that gave birth to the In-Vitros were sold for scrap metal.
No mother, no father, no soul.
That's what people said about the In-Vitros. Cooper didn't know whom he hated more—himself, or these men who were trying to kill him.
He spat in Davis's face.
The thugs tossed the thick chain over a girder and yanked Cooper up by his neck. He was starting to feel the effects of his oxygen being cut off when, four feet above the ground, he realized that his feet were in perfect position to deliver some serious damage.
Whether Cooper Hawkes had a soul or not, he wasn't going to die this way.
He kicked out, catching one of the men in the jaw, and the other in the nose. They both flew backward, letting go of the chain.
Cooper fell to the ground with a thud. He ripped his hands free of the fiber-optic wire they had used to bind him and wrenched the chain from his neck. Now there was only Davis.
Before Cooper could even get his bearings, Davis swung a metal pole at him, just missing his head. But on his next swing, Cooper was ready. He caught the pole in mid-swing and pulled it from Davis's hands.
Davis turned and ran.
Cooper was right behind him as he dashed out of the construction site and back into the street. Now it was Davis's turn to ask to die. Cooper held the pole out, ready to swing at anything that came out of the shadows.
A loud screech pierced the night as an armored police car came flying down the alley, sirens full blast. The police were supposed to protect the In-Vitros the same way they protected and served other citizens. But Cooper knew that they wouldn't be on his side.
The car screamed to a halt in front of the two men. Davis quickly pulled open the back door and jumped in, begging the police for protection. Cooper was filled with a rage so intense he lost control. He brought the heavy pipe down on the hood of the armored car. Unable to stop himself, he swung the pipe again.
SMASH! He shattered the side window that Davis was peering through.
"Get out of there!" Cooper screamed, wanting to make Davis's head the next target of the pipe. It wasn't just Davis he wanted to pulverize. It was all of them—every last human being who had spit at him, who had looked at him as if he were an animal.
A policeman leaped from the car and aimed a heavy black weapon at Cooper. Davis saw his chance to escape. He jumped out of the car and disappeared down the dark alley.
"He tried to hang me!" Cooper screamed, still waving the metal club. The officer responded with cold, unfeeling eyes. Davis must have told them that he was a Tank. They would never believe his side of the story now.
Unable to control his anger, Cooper smashed down on the car again, this time shattering the windshield.
POP! He heard a gun fire. He didn't realize he'd been shot until he felt the shock-dart puncture deep into his chest. As he slipped out of consciousness, he suddenly realized that he should have let Davis kill him. Because nowadays they were sentencing the bad-seed In-Vitros to a punishment worse than any prison.
They were going to send him into the military.
chapter 3
It never stopped raining in Southern California. Perhaps that was why no one wanted to live there anymore. San Diego was no exception to the rule.
In the dead of the stormy night, a young woman climbed through a hole in the rusty fence that surrounded the crumbling ruins of a house.
Her name was Shane Vansen, and she was twenty-one. She was the third who would shape humanity's future, and although her destiny lay among the stars, it wasn't her future she was considering just then. It was her past.
The ruined door swung open to reveal the shell of a house that leaked like a sieve. Sixteen years of termites and endless rains had taken their toll. It was hard for her to believe she had spent the first six years of her life here.
Holding a bouquet of wet flowers, she walked toward the master bedroom—her parents' room. She could still imagine her father standing there, tall and handsome in his Marine sergeant's uniform. She could remember his face on that last night: stern eyes camouflaging his terror as the enemy AI troops closed in.
They had turned off the lights, and her mother had spirited Shane and her two younger sisters up into the attic.
"Take care of them," her mother told Shane, and then whispered, "I love you," before she shut them up in the attic and went down to be with Shane's father.
From the attic, Shane had heard the door being kicked in. She had watched with her sisters through the grill as the AI commander droned to her parents, "Kneel!" In that chilling electronic voice that sounded like fingernails scratching out words on a blackboard.
She had had to bite her lip to keep from screaming as she watched the AI troops raise their guns to her mother's and father's heads. She'd had to hold her hand over her sister's mouth to keep her quiet as well. Her sister had bitten deep into her hand as those guns went off. Her parents had been executed with the cold precision that the AIs were well-known for.
Now, sixteen years later, all that was left of the house was this crumbling ruin that would soon be washed away by the rains. Yet the memories were still fresh and just as painful.
Shane left the bundle of flowers on the spot where her parents were murdered. She'd wanted to believe they had died for something but still couldn't figure out what that might be. It was a question that had plagued Shane ever since they died.
She had done what her mother had asked. She had taken care of her sisters, whether they wanted to be taken care of or not. Now it was time for her to do something for herself. So she had enlisted in the Marines, like her father before her, and joined the Space Cavalry. Maybe there she would fine some purpose. Maybe there, controlling the turbulent engines of a fighter jet, she might find some level of peace in her soul.
She heard a jet pass by above, its low
rumble like distant thunder, both threatening and comforting at the same time. There was a hole in the roof, and through that hole she could see stars. As she peered at those stars through the breaking storm clouds, she began to sense something beginning to unfold in her life—not just a new beginning, but a new destiny she could not yet see.
Shane wondered if her life would make any difference in the vast, unknowable universe. She wondered whether or not one's destiny was something you were born into, or something you create. Perhaps the Space Cavalry would give her the answer.
chapter 4
"I AM SERGEANT MAJOR BOUGUS. I AM YOUR SENIOR DRILL INSTRUCTOR. I AM HERE TO TURN YOU SLIMY CIVILIAN CESSPOOL PARASITES INTO UNITED STATES MARINE CORPS SPACE AVIATORS, INVOKING BOWEL-WRENCHING TERROR INTO THE DARK HEARTS OF YOUR ENEMIES."
Bougus had begun screaming in fine military fashion from the moment they stepped out of the bus on the tarmac of the Loxley, Alabama, Marine base. Actually, they didn't "step" out of the bus, but rather they were flushed out by two human pit bulls in Marine uniforms. Now they all stood at attention, a mismatched crew of Marine wannabees.
"WHY ARE YOU HERE?" shouted Bougus into the face of an African-American girl name Vanessa Damphousse.
"Uh, sir, to find a direction, sir!" she said, with far less force in her voice than Bougus liked.
"A DIRECTION?" Bougus demanded. "ARE YOU LOST?"
Damphousse's shoulders sagged slightly out of the tight attention she had been holding.
"Sir, I, uh... suffer from a sense of disconnection, and—"
" ANSWER THE QUESTION!" Everyone stiffened buck to attention as he shouted.
Damphousse didn't dare look him in the face again. "Sir, yes I am, sir! Lost, sir!"
"DO I LOOK LIKE A ROAD MAP TO YOU?"
"Sir, no, sir!"
"WELL, I AM A ROAD MAP!" proclaimed Bougus.
Further down the line, Shane Vansen and Nathan West watched, relieved that he had not chosen to single them out... yet.
A number of them had met on the long bus ride out. Nathan and Shane had hit it off right away. Perhaps there was something similar about that world-weary look in their eyes that drew them to one another.
Bougus stalked back down the line, looking over each and every recruit. "I AM YOUR PERSONAL ROAD MAP," he bellowed. "I WILL LEAD AND YOU WILL FOLLOW! I WILL TEACH AND YOU WILL LEARN! WHEN YOU LEAVE MY ACADEMY, YOU WILL BE WEAPONS—FOCUSED AND FULL OF PURPOSE! HOT-ROD ROCKET JOCKS OF PRECISION AND STRENGTH TEARING ACROSS THE COSMOS!"
Far behind Bougus, the recruits caught sight of a single Squadron crossing the tarmac. Dressed in black with black berets, they had an elite air about them, as if they didn't walk on the same ground as everyone else. It didn't take a genius to know who they were—the 127th Attack Wing, the "Angry Angels." Even among civilians, the 127th was legend. Every schoolkid had seen the video of them storming the AI strongholds all those years ago, almost single-handedly turning the war. Of course, all the faces had changed since then, but the reputation of the 127th remained the same. They were the best there ever were, or ever would be.
"That's why I joined," Shane whispered to Nathan as the Angry Angels strode out of view. "Someday," she added, "that will be me."
"Yeah," said the wide-eyed recruit standing next to them. His name was Mike Pagodin, but everyone called him "Pags." Kind of like a dog. The nickname made sense: he seemed way too enthusiastic about everything and was always eager to please—just like a friendly pup.
"Hey," Pags whispered to Nathan with a goofy smile on his face. "When do you think we'll get our planes?"
At the far end of the line, Bougus was tormenting Paul Wang, the most intimidated of the group.
"LET ME HEAR YOUR WAR CRY!" shouted Bougus.
Wang had to give him three terrified yelps before Bougus invited the two drill instructors over to scream in Wang's ears, letting him experience the joy of a real Marine war cry in stereo. Then Bougus marched back down the line toward Shane and Nathan.
"IN SPACE," announced Bougus, "NO ONE CAN HEAR YOU SCREAM—UNLESS IT'S THE WAR CRY OF A UNITED STATES MARINE!"
His eyes caught Shane's. She stiffened, determined to stand toe-to-toe with the sergeant and not be made a fool of.
"WHY DID YOU JOIN MY CORPS?" Bougus demanded. A fine spray of spittle accompanied his words.
"Sir, to defend my country, sir!" replied Shane, thinking it must be the only perfect answer.
"TO DEFEND YOUR COUNTRY?" mocked Bougus. "ARE YOU CRAZY? WE HAVE NO ENEMIES! YOU'VE MADE A TERRIBLE MISTAKE!"
Shane refused to be intimidated. "Sir, the best way to maintain peace is to maintain a strong defense! Sir!"
Bougus showed no sign of being impressed. "ARE YOU RUNNING FOR OFFICE, PRIVATE?"
Beside Shane, Nathan snickered. He couldn't help it. He was amazed that Bougus could keep a straight face himself when he did this.
Bougus's eyes snapped to Nathan. "DO I AMUSE YOU?"
"Sir, no sir!" shouted Nathan.
"THEN AMUSE ME!" demanded Bougus. "TWENTY-FIVE PUSH-UPS—NOW!"
Which, of course, made Shane snicker. In an instant, Bougus had her doing push-ups right beside Nathan.
Cooper Hawkes watched this exercise as his Jeep approached the group. He knew all the recruits could see the cuffs on his wrists before the MPs removed them.
When Bougus saw him, he strode over and spoke softly, so only Cooper could hear. Which, in its own way, was far worse than being screamed at.
"I know all about you, Hawkes," said Bougus. Although he whispered, somehow his voice had the same intensity as when he shouted. "So now the judges think it's funny to sentence Tanks to the Marines." Cooper slouched, refusing to stand at attention, refusing to look at him. With the bruise from the shock-dart still aching in his chest, he was in no mood to deal with a war-grizzled drill sergeant.
"I want you to know," continued Bougus, "that I fought alongside the Tanks in the AI War, and I know they're lazy and don't care about anyone, or anything."
Cooper grinned out of the corner of his mouth. "Well then, I won't let you down."
Bougus didn't take too kindly to the words or to the grin. He turned so everyone could hear and shouted, "THE ONLY THING YOU'RE GONNA LET DOWN IS YOUR FACE, ON THE DECK! GIMME FIFTY!"
The two drill instructors pushed Cooper to the ground, right beside Nathan and Shane. Cooper turned and caught Shane looking at him, so he winked at her. As he expected, she looked away, disgusted.
Good, thought Cooper. Maybe this isn't going to be a total waste.
At the sight of Cooper beside him, Nathan picked up the pace. He had no love of Tanks now that the Tanks were responsible for tearing him and Kylen apart.
"ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, I LOVE THE MARINE CORPS!" chanted Bougus, trying to keep them in rhythm.
Cooper, Nathan, and Shane rose and fell in unison—the first three chosen for punishment. Perhaps it was a little more than coincidence. Not even Sergeant Major Bougus could know how important the three Marines he had dropped to the deck would be.
chapter 5
In the coldness of space, where the sun is one-tenth its size from Earth, and the Earth itself is just a blue pinprick among star-filled heavens, the Tellus probe slingshot around Neptune toward the trans-Tellus wormhole. They were four weeks into the mission: right on schedule.
The two hundred and fifty colonists buckled themselves in and prepared for trans-Tellus injection. It would be more jarring than blast-off, they were told, more jarring than anything they had ever experienced—except, perhaps, for birth itself.
The ship rattled and groaned as it entered the wormhole, buffeted by the violent waves of folded space. The colonists could feel their flesh twisting, stretching, and folding. Finally the ship burst out into a place so far from Earth it would take a hundred lifetimes just to count the miles.
Before them, one of Tellus's many crater-filled moons eclipsed the planet. But soon their ship came around the moon, and they saw a glorious world of green and gold—their
new home.
Thrusters came on full force as the ship rocketed toward the planet.
"Prepare for entry." The captain's announcement was met with cheers from the colonists.
Excitement and anticipation filled the immense cabin like an electric surge. The colonists were ready for anything now.
Almost anything.
Tightly strapped into her chair, Kylen Celina pulled out a crumpled piece of paper from her flight-suit pocket. It was Nathan's letter, the one he had given to her as he was pulled away from the ship.
It wasn't like Nathan to write love letters. Still, she would cherish it, for it was all she had left of him.
They say in five billion years, the sun will burn most of its hydrogen, the letter began, and in another few million years, the sun will expand, swallowing Mercury, and Venus, and finally the Earth, until at last the sun collapses in upon itself, becoming a red dwarf and growing dimmer and dimmer. Elsewhere, new stars are born, older systems thrive, and our sun dies. If that's how long it takes-—
BOOM! There was a flash of light, followed by a blast of heat. Then nothing but screams.
Kylen turned. A whole section of the multi-leveled cabin collapsed. Dozens of her fellow colonists were crushed in their chairs, pinned beneath heavy layers of graphite and steel.
"What's happening?!" she screamed.
BOOM! A second blast rocked the ship.
Flames suddenly sprang up from beneath her chair, burning her through the fabric. Frantically she tore at her harness to get free.
She leaped from the chair just as it was engulfed in flames. Around her, others were scrambling for fire extinguishers to save those still trapped.
Still clutching the letter from Nathan, Kylen crawled across the floor away from the fire. Another blast hit far above them. We're being attacked, she thought. But by whom? It can't be possible.
