by Patrick Ness
Suddenly the Skandis were revealed.
‘That,’ said April, ‘is what they really look like.’
‘But—’ Seraphin said, and stopped. That was pretty much all anyone said. The same expression echoed down in the Big White Room—one of horror and disbelief. Someone was crying.
‘What have we done?’ Ram said.
The Skandis showed them.
The screens of the Big White Room lit up with footage. A thousand deaths, each one seen from the victim’s point of view. Tiny hands and paws flailing up, pleading and squeaking, falling backwards, their last view the sneering faces of their killers—human soldiers, young faces twisted with rage and hate.
Once those thousand deaths had finished, they saw a thousand more, and a thousand more after that. The deaths were broadcast on every wall, the floor, the ceiling. There was no escape from them. The blasts, the screams, the laughter.
‘Stop it!’ screamed Tanya. ‘Stop it!’
The picture changed. For a moment it was mercifully blank.
The Skandis stood, surveying the cowed soldiers placidly.
Then Seraphin’s voice came over the speakers. It was missing its normal exuberance. ‘We’ve got . . . we’ve got the other side of the picture. You have to see it.’
He and April played out footage from the soldiers’ helmet cameras. Suddenly they saw all their battles as they really had been. Where before they’d been marching through desolate wastelands, they were now marching through fields, villages, schools.
Rows of the fluttering aliens were mown down as they tended crops. Horrified parents watched as their children exploded in flame and then fought back desperately, angrily. Villagers rushed forward to try to protect their elders while urging others to flee.
The most horrible thing was how beautiful the aliens looked even as they died, flames racing along their wings, agony exquisitely expressed on their faces.
The humans watched the screens. They couldn’t turn away from what they saw. The slaughter. The terrible laughter. The jokes. A rifle smashing down and crunching over and over again as a boy’s voice chuckled. ‘One down, three to go.’ Then he turned to three Skandis children clinging to a corner.
It took a long time to play all the footage. It stopped. Eventually.
Seraphin appeared, leaning into the screens.
He looked about to speak, and then shook his head, turned away, and the screens of the Big White Room went blank.
There was silence. Shock. Wonder.
Then came a thud. Then another.
The sound of helmets being taken off. Dropped to the ground. People blinking at the Skandis. Seeing them as they truly were.
NORMAL/ABNORMAL didn’t matter anymore.
Soldiers looked at the Skandis, and then they looked at one another for the first time. And realised how young everyone was.
Then the doubt started. What if this was an illusion too? What if what they’d originally seen was true? And this was the illusion.
A debate began to rage. Shouting.
All the while the Skandis stood there, fluttering gently. Waiting.
April walked into the Big White Room. She walked between the two sides. Everyone watched her. She walked patiently, with poise and clarity. In that moment, Charlie couldn’t help but think how grown-up she was. Ram just blinked. How could she be so cool? After all, this was April.
She stopped before the fluttering crowd of aliens, and bowed her head.
‘I’ve never got to say this before, but’—And she smiled, a beautiful, sad smile. ‘On behalf of the human race, I am sorry.’
There was no simple resolution. No happy ending.
It would be nice to say the aliens bowed back, and then left in peace.
They did not.
But nor did they slaughter everyone. Instead they ransacked the base, going through every file, making copies, pulling information out onto the screens, analysing it.
They ignored the humans completely. Some people tried repeating April’s apology, trying to make it personal, but it was as though they weren’t speaking at all. Now that they’d made the humans aware, the Skandis had dismissed them. It just seemed easier for them to ignore their murderers. We are, April thought, beneath contempt.
Ram and Tanya sat on the remains of a bench, watching the Skandis flutter around, moving in beautiful, graceful loops as they dismantled the walls, stripping out vast chunks of technology. Tanya blinked and turned away, in case she cried again.
‘I can’t believe it,’ she kept saying.
Ram nodded. His head kept going round and round and round. How many had he killed? How many were adults? As if that made it any better. It did not make it any better. None of it made it any better.
‘I’ve lost count,’ he said, empty. ‘I keep trying to count. Oh God. I can’t remember.’
‘I know how many I killed,’ said Tanya, very sadly. She wouldn’t say.
‘And, all that bants while I was doing it. Like I was a hero.’
‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘I was laughing. Sometimes I couldn’t stop laughing because I thought I was doing good.’
‘We did,’ he said, disgusted with himself. ‘We really thought we were doing good. And we all dared one another on.’
‘It was . . .’ Tanya’s face twisted up with shame. ‘So much fun.’
‘Yeah.’ Ram turned away from her. ‘And I finally found something I was good at.’
They sat in silence after that.
There was an angry huddle in a corner. One kid, from Coal Hill, was shaking a fist. ‘Yeah, but,’ he was saying, ‘how do we know they’re still not planning on invading the Earth? I mean. They still could. Couldn’t they?’
The huddle nodded. Making it okay. Making it possible to live with themselves.
If the Skandis heard, they didn’t pay any attention. They no longer cared.
Seraphin appeared on a wall. Only that one screen was still working. He was wearing black. He’d shaved.
‘Hey, everyone,’ he said, the confidence gone, his voice croaking. ‘Here’s what we know,’ he said. ‘I think it’s important we all know.’ He swallowed and stopped for a bit. ‘I’m getting it together.’
April moved through the crowd and sat next to Ram.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said to her.
‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘You’re only apologising to me because you can’t make it right with the Skandis.’
‘No,’ he said, flushing with anger. ‘You deserve an apology too. I didn’t listen to you.’
‘Maybe,’ April said, considering. ‘Maybe I’d just make a terrible soldier.’
She took his hand, and squeezed it very gently.
On the screen, Seraphin stopped rifling through his notebook and then spoke again.
‘The Skandis helped me understand as much about this as they could. Looks like we will never know who organised this,’ he began. ‘Some of you have spoken about that feeling of being watched, out of the corner of your eye. That’s all we have of the people behind this. A vague idea. They made sure they were never seen.
‘Can I make it clear—the Skandis were never planning on invading the Earth. They’re a peaceful, beautiful race. As you’ve seen, their home planet is pretty amazing. So amazing that other people wanted to live there. But these other people didn’t want to be seen being involved in wiping the rightful owners out. They approached mercenaries, but no one wanted the job.
‘Instead, they came up with a plan. They found a way to Earth, and they found a way of recruiting people who could be blamed. The population on Skandis isn’t huge—wiping them out wouldn’t take that much effort. But, if we’d succeeded, the shame would have been all on us. On the Earth.
‘Whoever is behind this wouldn’t just have got the Skandis’ world, they’d have got the Earth as well. If they’d wanted to invade us, no one would have stepped in to stop them. They’re ruthless and they’re clever. They’ve made this all our fault.
‘I cheered you on. I
told you to do it.’ He stopped and took a long drink of water. ‘I made you do it. You made one another do it. But we’d been fooled. The helmet cams were filtering what we saw, making us see what our kidnappers wanted us to see. Massive perception filters. Nothing has been real. Every image you’ve seen has been altered to make you the hero of the movie of your own life. We thought we were Han Solo blowing up the Death Star. Really, we’re stormtroopers.’
He leaned back in his chair. ‘One more thing. You may be wondering how they paid for all this—turns out there’s still money in space. It costs to build this base, to place it in the Void, and to interface with the Skandis’ home world. It cost a lot to filter the helmet cams and to buy the drugs they put in your food. Oh, yeah. They drugged you. Sorry.
‘Anyway, cash. Turns out, there was a site. Pay-per-view. All across the universe, people have been paying to watch what we’ve done. It’s sick. But it’s been really popular.
‘The sickest thing of all? Alright.’ Seraphin stood up and paced the room, jamming his hands in his pockets and looking wretched. ‘The people behind this. Our masters? They may not have won any planets. But they’ve still made a massive profit from the videos.
‘Yeah, we think the universe is full of evil UFOs with probes, or of great shining space gods. Turns out, it’s full of really twisted people. And not only are they the Worst, but now the universe has seen all these videos, what do you think they think of us?’ He shook his head and stared bleakly ahead. ‘I dunno.’ He ran his hand through his hair. ‘I just dunno. Perhaps we deserve whatever’s coming.’
He turned. ‘Anyway, whoever’s running this? They’ve left us here to rot. The Skandis have opened the Combat Chambers up for us to get back to Earth. We don’t deserve it, but there you go. I guess they don’t want our deaths on their conscience. I’m using one to go home. Maybe you should do the same. If you see me, don’t say hello.’ He breathed out, a shuddering breath that emptied his lungs. ‘Well, that’s it. Seraphin out. Mic drop gif.’
He walked away.
The great screens in the Big White Room went blank and never showed anything again.
Everyone was silent, stunned. Except for Miss Quill, who looked up, smiling slightly.
‘Well, I think that was a pretty great plan.’
FIFTY-TWO
TO GET YOUR FREE CONFESSION JUST FOLLOW THESE SIMPLE STEPS
Miss Quill went back to her room in the Void and tapped on the wall.
‘I know that you can still hear me. I know that you’re still there.’
Nothing answered her.
She put her hands on her hips.
‘I’m a very patient woman,’ she told the wall. ‘Someday soon I’m going to be the last survivor of my planet. While I’m waiting for that, I may as well hang around waiting for you to show yourselves. Time’s slow here. And I’m really rather calm.’
There was no answer.
Quill carried on staring at the wall. An hour passed. Maybe two.
‘I’m still here,’ said Miss Quill. ‘And not at all bored. I’ve waited for thirty teenagers to come up with thirty different feeble excuses for not being able to solve Fermat’s Last Theorem as homework. So bear that in mind. I’d appreciate an explanation from you.’
The wall looked back at her blankly.
‘Here’s the thing,’ said Miss Quill. ‘I know you’re still here. The Skandis may be as dainty as dancing Disney teacups, but they’re formidable transdimensional engineers. Nothing gets in or out of here without their say-so, and, according to the logs, no one’s tried to go anywhere other than Earth. I’d say you figured you’d stay behind. See if there was a chance to recoup a bit more of your investment.’
The wall said nothing.
‘I know I’m not mad. I know you’re in the walls,’ said Quill. ‘I knew you came out to observe me when I was resting. I am a very light sleeper, and it amused me to work out who you were.’
Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but the wall seemed to frown.
‘We’ve met before, you see,’ Quill said. ‘I’m Quill. The last of the Quill. You came and offered your services to us. Said you’d help us with the Rhodians. We said no. I won’t bore you with talk about a warrior’s honour. You just wanted too much money. We were a poor people, so we left it at that. But I was always curious about how your service worked. And now I know. Very clever.’
She smiled at the wall. The wall lit up, just a little.
‘You have no name.’ Quill smiled. ‘The humans will find that a shame. They really do like their closure. If there’s one thing they love more than an apology it’s someone to hold responsible for everything wrong with their lives. And it’s much easier to blame people with names. But that’s not how you work, is it? You hide in the shadows, you skulk in the walls, you buy and sell planets—and no one knows it’s you, because no one knows who you are. And no one ever will.’
The wall shrugged, as much as a wall could.
‘It’s the humans I feel sorry for,’ said Quill. ‘Actually, that’s my first thought when I wake up every morning. But in this case, the humans will process it so badly. Their brains are so strange, so slow and fragile. Some will forget completely, some will deny it ever happened—but they’ll all remember eventually, somehow. They’ll all be changed by this forever. And, because they’re up against you, they’ll never even have a name to curse for their nightmares.’
The wall considered what she said.
‘Luckily, I am Quill,’ said Miss Quill. ‘And we don’t need names.’ She raised her gun and pointed it at the wall. She fired into the wall, draining the power packs.
The wall shattered like a shell. Six bodies fell out, lying twitching on the ground, smoke rising from them.
‘You shouldn’t have hid behind the wall.’ She smiled at them. ‘You should have come out and faced me. The genome-lock doesn’t stop me from shooting walls.’
She turned one of the charred corpses over. Its face was an empty, featureless mask.
‘No names? No faces?’ she tutted. ‘The humans are really going to hate you.’
She turned around and went home.
FIFTY-THREE
HAPPY ENDINGS DON’T KILL PEOPLE—GUNS DO
When you’ve caught the world out in a great lie, it takes a while before you trust it again.
For Ram it was as simple as putting one foot in front of the other.
He was running. Down the road. Into the park, round the trees and off to school.
His artificial leg kept telling him that something, it wasn’t sure what, wasn’t quite right.
‘No,’ he said to his leg. ‘It isn’t right. Get over it.’ And, for this morning, his leg did.
Charlie slunk out of the kitchen, two bowls of cereal balanced in his hands. Miss Quill was walking in.
‘You’ve been avoiding me,’ she said. As usual, she wasn’t angry. She was, at best, mildly amused. As though his behaviour was a childish reaction.
Charlie refused to rise to it. ‘Yes,’ he said, angling his chin up at her defiantly. ‘Is there any reason why I shouldn’t?’
She stepped past him, enjoying his slight flinch as she got close to him. She filled the kettle and flicked it on to boil, pulling a mug from the cupboard. It had a jolly puppy on it. She dropped the mug in the bin and picked another one.
‘I fought. And I enjoyed it. I am honest about that.’ She smiled at Charlie. ‘One day, if you really hold true to your heritage, you too will fight a great war. And you will be lying to yourself if you don’t enjoy it.’ She tipped boiling water into the mug. ‘You’ll see. Enjoy your cereal.’
Tanya sneaked into her living room. The rest of the house was a hive of people, running into the bathroom, arguing over clothes, and making too much noise in the kitchen. No one noticed her go up to the television and switch it on. She slipped headphones on and plugged them in.
For days now she’d made a public protest about how she was overgaming. About how she was giving it a rest.
And she’d stick to it. In public, at least.
She booted up the games console.
Yes. She’d stick to it. But just a quick bout every now and then. With a smile, she started shooting.
April was standing waiting at the school gates, watching Ram approach.
‘I’m all sweaty,’ said Ram.
‘Yeah, and you’re making a thing of it.’
‘Not.’
‘Are.’
They stood there, a silence forming between them that wasn’t quite the comfortable silence between old friends, but maybe one day would be.
Pupils were streaming through the school gates, checking their phones, laughing, nudging one another. Every now and then, one of them would catch April’s or Ram’s eye and look away. It was the telltale giveaway.
Ram snorted. ‘People forget so quickly.’
‘You think?’ April leaned back against the railings.
‘They were abducted, tricked into being butchers—not really sure that even Coal Hill’s counsellor can cope with that. And what do you say when you get home? “Sorry I’ve been missing for a couple of days, actually been fighting an alien war for months”? Or do you go with—’
‘“Staying over at Kevin’s working on a maths project”? Yeah.’ Ram laughed uneasily. ‘It’s like no time’s passed at all.’
More people strolled past them. A girl stopped. She stared at them, burst into tears, and ran away.
‘Who was that?’ Ram asked.
‘Not a clue,’ April said. ‘All those helmets.’
‘Yeah.’
The sun shone, and more people slouched through the gates.
‘Maybe they’re all forgetting,’ April said. ‘There’s a chance that it’s only us who remember.’
‘That’d be kind,’ Ram agreed. ‘But then, I’m no longer sure the world is that kind.’
