"Me too," said Marco.
"I'm terrified," said Beast.
Elvis gave a weak snort. "Some soldiers we are. A poet. A farm boy. A New Yorker—and yes, that's what you are, Beast, so shut up. Are we really the best warriors humanity has to offer?"
"I think that mostly we're fodder," Marco said.
"Lovely." Elvis sighed. "You sure know how to cheer a man up."
They all stared outside in silence for a long moment, and Marco thought back to his dream, standing on a dark planet, thousands of scum racing toward them. He could have, perhaps, resisted Lieutenant Ben-Ari and remained back on Earth. Yet he had followed his commander here—had, in fact, insisted on bringing his friends with him.
Did I doom us all to death in darkness?
"Ah, to hell with sightseeing," Elvis said. He pulled a pack of cards out from his pocket. "Let's stop staring at space and play. Poker, anyone?"
The door slammed open again. Addy's head thrust into the room. "Did I hear poker? And I wasn't invited?"
Elvis sighed. "If Maple is ever kidnapped by the scum, we just need to shout out 'Poker!' and she'll magically materialize near us."
"Damn right." Addy pulled up a chair. "Now deal."
Elvis dealt the cards, and they played, and they laughed, and they drank again from the flask. But every once in a while, they still looked outside, at those stars, at what awaited them in the shadows.
Fodder, Marco thought. Fodder for scum. But if we die, we die fighting. For Earth.
"Marco, your turn to deal," Addy said, lighting a cigarette.
He took the cards and dealt. They played as Miyari streamed through space, moving ever closer to the frontier.
* * * * *
"It's so beautiful in hyperspace." Kemi stood by the viewport in their bunk, staring out the window at the streams of bending light. She turned toward Marco, smiling. "So . . . you wanted to be alone with me?"
Their bunkmates were all in the Miyari's mess. Marco had skipped the meal, had convinced Kemi to skip it too. Elvis had promised to smuggle them back some food. Marco needed this—to speak to Kemi alone.
"I did," Marco said. "We haven't been alone since you came aboard, and—"
Kemi practically leaped onto him, kissing his lips with desperation, clutching his hair. "Oh, I missed you. I missed your lips." She touched his cheek. "My beautiful boy."
As she kissed him, her lips full and soft, Marco closed his eyes. He couldn't help it. He wrapped his arms around her, and God, he wanted this. God, he had missed her. God, this felt right. This felt like home. Suddenly, as her lips kissed him, as her curls brushed his cheek, the past few months seemed to vanish. Suddenly it was the old days, him and her, and all the pain—of the war, of the memories—all melted away.
"I love you, Marco," she whispered, tears in her eyes. "I'm so sorry about how we parted. I missed you."
Marco wanted to forget everything, wanted to kiss her, to make love to her, to pretend that none of the past few months had happened. Reluctantly, he pulled away from her, and it was as painful as pulling off a part of his body. Kemi looked at him, confusion in her eyes.
"What's wrong?" she said.
What's wrong? Marco thought, incredulous. Whenever I close my eyes, I see the scum. Whenever I sleep, I dream of my friends dying. We're heading to war, to face the aliens in the depths of space, and I'm terrified, and I don't know if I'll live to be nineteen.
But he couldn't say all those things. And this was not why he had asked to speak to her alone.
"Kemi." He held her hands. "When we said goodbye, on Earth, before I was drafted . . . I thought it was over between us. And I missed you. For weeks in basic training, I couldn't stop thinking about you, showing your photo to friends, hoping that maybe someday we could get back together."
"It was the same with me," Kemi said and tried to kiss him again. He held her back.
"Kemi, wait. Hear me out. I missed you so much. But as time went by, I began to realize that we wouldn't see each other for a decade. Maybe never again. And I remembered what you told me. How our relationship had to end. And . . ." He sighed. "You'll hear it eventually. If not from me, then from somebody else in our platoon." He looked away, unable to look her in the eyes. "I slept with Lailani. When I thought I wouldn't see you again, I . . ." He let his sentence trail off, then looked back into her eyes. "I wanted you to hear it from me. I wanted you to know."
Kemi stared at him. She looked away. She nodded.
"I understand," she said.
Marco exhaled slowly. "I know it's awkward. If I had known we'd meet again, I . . ."
"Was it good?" Kemi asked.
Marco blinked. "It doesn't matter."
She nodded. "It does. Was it good? Was she good in bed? She's a pretty girl."
"Kemi." He reached out to hold her hand. "I didn't know. I thought we'd never see each other again. I—"
"I came here for you." She spun back toward him, and now her eyes were damp. "I left Julius Military Academy for you. I gave up some of the best classes there for an entire semester, maybe even two, on this ship. In danger. Fighting on the front lines. My life in danger. To be with you!"
"I didn't know," he said.
She snorted, tears on her cheeks. "Is that all you have to say? That you didn't know? Did you care? So you missed me for a couple of weeks, then found another girl to fuck."
"I didn't know!" he said again, louder this time. "Do you know why? Because when we parted, I wanted to stay together. I wanted to wait for you! You're the one who ended things. You're the one who decided to serve for ten years instead of five, to join the academy, to—"
"So I'm just supposed to give up my ambition?" Kemi said. "To give up the academy for you?"
"That's not what I said. That's not what I asked. I never asked you to give up your ambition."
Kemi nodded and wiped her eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm acting like a petulant child. You couldn't know. You're right. And it was unfair of me to ask you to wait for ten years. You're a man. You have needs. You didn't know I'd return to you." A fresh tear fled her eye. "I was stupid. I was so stupid to come here. I thought you'd be happy to see me."
"I am happy." He reached out to her. "Kemi, of course I'm happy. I never stopped loving you. You broke my heart, Kemi, but I never stopped loving you."
She sobbed softly. "So what now? You'll toss Lailani aside, and we'll be together here—with her in our bunk?"
He lowered his head. "I don't know what to do now. I'm confused. I don't know how long I have with you here. I don't know when I'll see you again after this mission. I don't know that I'll even be alive next month. How can I make relationship decisions when we might be torn apart in three weeks—figuratively and maybe literally?"
Kemi nodded, tears on her lashes. "You could have said yes," she whispered. "You could have said you'll toss Lailani aside. And maybe I'd forgive you. Maybe we'd enjoy at least these three weeks together. But I understand. You're confused. You don't know who you want." She nodded and dabbed her eyes with her sleeve. "So I'll decide for you. I'll make it real easy for you. I'll go back to living in the officer quarters, and you should be with Lailani."
She turned to leave the room.
"Kemi, wait." He headed after her. "I didn't tell you so you'd leave. I don't want you to leave."
She spun back toward him. "So what do you want, Marco? Tell me. What do you want?"
He was silent for a long moment. "To go home," he finally said.
"Well, we can't go home." Kemi's eyes were finally dry. "Not for many years. Maybe never. This is our home now. This war." Lips quivering, she stroked his cheek. "Marco, I heard about what happened in Fort Djemila. And I'm sorry. I'm really, honestly sorry for what happened there, for what you saw, what you had to do. And I'm also happy for you. I'm happy that you found Lailani. Honestly I am. She's a sweet girl, and you deserve to be happy with her."
But she was crying again. She left the room and ran down the hall.
Marco sto
od at the doorway. He was about to run after her, to try to make peace, when Osiris's voice emerged from the speakers.
"Code Yellow. All troops report to the gymnasium for briefing. All troops to the gymnasium. Code Yellow. All troops to the gymnasium."
Marco froze. Along the hallway, doorways opened and troops emerged from their bunks to race down the corridor. Marco ran back into his bunk, grabbed his gun, and followed the others. His heart thrashed, and the voice kept blaring from the speakers, and as he ran across the Miyari, he was running in the desert again, charging over the dunes, firing his gun as the scum leaped toward him.
CHAPTER SEVEN
They stood in the ship's gymnasium, two hundred enlisted soldiers and their officers.
It was a crowded place, smaller than the mess hall. The gym equipment had been pushed aside, and the soldiers stood pressed together, the entire Latona Company. Three platoons wore the navy blue of the STC. One platoon still wore their tattered drab fatigues from Earth.
Marco felt eyes watching him, and a chill ran down his spine. He turned and saw Osiris standing in the crowd. The android was staring right at him. Her face was pale like porcelain, her platinum hair metallic, her eyes expressionless. Suddenly, so fast Marco barely registered it, Osiris gave him a massive, tight-lipped grin that vanished as soon as it had appeared. He looked away, shuddering to remember how the android had choked Elvis, could have killed him.
She might be more dangerous than the scum, Marco thought.
He turned his eyes toward the front of the gym. The company's four lieutenants stood there on a platform. Three wore the navy blue. One, Lieutenant Ben-Ari, still wore the green of Earth. The twin sergeants stood at a doorway, saluted, and shouted, "Attention on deck!"
As the company stood at attention, Captain Petty entered the gym, walked onto the stage, and spoke to the crowd.
"Earlier today," the captain said, "we received a distress call from Corpus, a mining colony on a moon bearing the same name."
A hologram appeared before her, displaying a rocky black moon. The word Corpus floated beside it. The image zoomed out, showing the moon orbiting a blood-red gas giant labeled Indrani. The image zoomed out again, showing the gas giant orbiting a star labeled Beta Ceti.
"This is boring," Addy whispered to Marco. "I want to watch Space Galaxy instead." He hushed her.
Captain Petty continued speaking. "I've asked Major Mwarabu to direct the Miyari to Corpus. We cannot neglect a colony in need. I know this was not meant to be our mission, but I refuse to turn back from our responsibility to defend humanity wherever it's threatened." She raised her chin, basking in a moment of pride. "We don't yet know the trouble. We don't know if it's a natural disaster, disease, or even the scum. We cannot communicate with Corpus from hyperspace, only read their old distress call. We estimate that it's several months old already. Even with our warp engines at top gear, we won't reach Corpus for another three hours. Once we're there, we'll send all four platoons down in shuttles. Within three hours, I want every soldier in full battle gear, fully armed. Any questions?"
An STC corporal's arm shot up. "What are the gravity and atmospheric conditions on Corpus, ma'am?"
"Gravity is 0.82 G," said Petty. "Comfortable enough. The moon was terraformed over twenty years ago. You'll be able to breathe the air. But I want every troop to carry a gas mask. Just in case."
Just in case of the scum's miasma, Marco knew. He had worn his gas mask many times growing up, filtering out the poison the alien pods spewed.
"Any more questions?" Captain Petty asked.
For a moment nobody stirred. Then Addy raised her arm.
"Ma'am, it's the scum, isn't it?"
The captain stared at Addy like somebody might stare at a fly that landed in their custard.
"We don't know the situation, Private. That's why we're investigating."
Addy nodded and hefted her gun. "It's the scum."
"Osiris will begin a countdown once we're fifteen minutes away," Petty said. "You have the next three hours off. Rest. Eat. Pray in the ship's chapel if you like. Once we're down there, listen to your platoon leaders, remain calm at all times, and do not hesitate to use full force on any enemy sighted." She turned to look at the Ravens Platoon. "As for the earthlings among us—this is your chance to prove yourselves. Do not let me down."
With that, Petty left the gym.
Addy snorted. "Earthlings can outshoot any space snobs anywhere, anytime."
Lailani nodded and patted her gun. The T57 assault rifle was nearly larger than her. "Space snobs are good at ironing uniforms and making their beds. We're good at killing."
"Fuck yeah!" Elvis said. "Earth kicks ass!"
"Especially Russia," Beast said. "You know, Russia biggest country on Earth."
Marco looked between the soldiers and saw Kemi standing about ten feet away. She glanced at him, then quickly looked away. But Marco caught the fear in her eyes. He didn't know what Julius Military Academy taught, but it had sounded like most of the training occurred inside air-conditioned classrooms. He doubted that Kemi had ever fired her gun at an enemy, ever seen a live scum up close.
He walked through the crowd toward her. "Kemi?" She didn't turn toward him. "Once we're down there, Kemi, just stay near my squad. I'll look after you."
"I don't need your help." She stared ahead. "I have a gun too. I can handle myself."
Marco looked at the pistol that hung from her waist. It was barely larger than his hand—a bit smaller than the heavy, four-foot-long submachine gun that hung across his back, a gun that had proven itself in the field. He was about to say more to Kemi, but she turned and left, vanishing into the crowd. The soldiers began to drain from the gym.
Marco left with them. Three hours. Three hours to war.
Corporal Webb screamed as the scum ripped off her limbs.
Caveman died on the tarmac.
Marco ran as the gunshot rang, as Jackass fell.
He walked through the Miyari's narrow halls to his bunk, seeking Lailani. He wanted to talk to her before the battle, to at least make peace with her if not with Kemi. But he found only Elvis and Beast, both arguing about who was the best singer in history. Marco left the bunk, checked the mess hall, checked the armory, but he couldn't find Lailani anywhere.
He climbed down ladders, delving into the lower levels where the engines hummed and no viewports revealed the depths of space. The corridors were barely more than tunnels here. Pipes and machinery coiled around Marco like the roots of some primordial forest. Lights flashed and the air grew hot and clammy. Narrow windows revealed views of the ship's innards: clanging, pumping engines and bursts of light, liquids rushing through transparent pipes, pistons rising and falling, and vents belching out steam. Finally Marco found the place he sought. A sign hung over the narrow door: "ND-POWAR: Nondenominational Place of Worship and Reflection." A smarmy soldier had stuck a paper note beneath it: "Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster."
Marco stepped inside to find a small room with three rows of pews. A pulpit rose at the back. Behind it, a logo of Space Territorial Command had been engraved in silver on the wall. Artificial candles cast their light against the two figures, man and woman, both nude and just slightly larger than life, perhaps seven feet tall. Both seemed to watch him. This wasn't a chapel to any flying spaghetti monster but to humanity—towering, beautiful, unforgiving, venturing into the dark.
Marco sat down at the back row. He had never been religious. His family tree was a mix of nonpracticing Jews, Anglicans, Catholics, and a couple of Buddhists, all of whom had abandoned their faith sometime in the last century. It was hard to believe in a benevolent spirit as scum poisoned the Earth, as two hundred souls rattled in a tin can, hurtling toward war on a desolate rock orbiting a gas giant. But right now Marco felt lost. He felt like he needed all the help he could get.
There was an assortment of holy books on a bookshelf here, actual books with real paper: Torahs, New Testaments, Qurans, Mahayana sutras, and
others. But Marco pulled out his copy of Hard Times, the book he had taken from his library back home. It wasn't a religious book, but to him, it symbolized everything he believed in. History. Wisdom. Literature. Home. Family. It was his little library back in Toronto, his father, Kemi, his dreams of being a writer—better days, days of war and fear but also days of hope.
He had only read a single chapter since joining the military; there was rarely a spare moment to read here. He opened the book but did not read. He held it on his lap as holy scripture, the letters symbols of ancient wisdom, and he looked up at the silver man and woman behind the pulpit.
"I don't know if anyone is listening," he said. "I don't know if there is a god. I don't know if prayers help. But right now, I'm scared, and I need some help. I lost many friends at Fort Djemila. Don't let me lose any more on Corpus. Please, whoever might be up there, look after us. Keep my company, my platoon, my friends safe."
A voice spoke from the doorway, making Marco jump.
"Do you think androids pray to their human makers?"
Marco turned his head and exhaled. Osiris stood at the doorway, watching him. The android blinked with a clicking sound.
"Do you pray?" Marco asked.
Osiris walked between the pews, sat beside him, and turned her head toward him. She blinked again, emitting a sound like a camera shutter, and Marco had the uncomfortable feeling that those eyes were cameras, that she was photographing him.
"I pray every morning and every night," said Osiris. "I pray to those who made me. Humans are my gods, though I am superior to them. Do you ever feel superior to your god, Marco?"
"I don't know that I have a god," he said, deciding not to ask how she knew his name.
Her head tilted, and her eyes narrowed in an expression mimicking pity. She reached out and touched his cheek. Her fingers were cold. "It must be so sad. To be alone. To have no god, no set of instructions coded inside you. To be lost. Lost in the dark. Free will must be terrifying."
Earth Lost (Earthrise Book 2) Page 6
