I pull out my tablet. The cadets are all asleep, or pretending to be, at least. So I can sleep. The four-thirty wake-up call comes early even for me. I feel I’m getting too old for this. But they must be too young for this. Why does it have to be so goddamn early? I sigh. Hawking isn’t online. Of course not, it’s hours and miles away where she is. But I still send the message anyway.
I know you’re busy but have the chance to write now. I miss you more each day. Things are increasingly odd here. Your old wingman, Thorne is here to visit. I worry about him, do write to him, I think he needs a friend right now.
He was drunk when he came, rambling about some dark cloud about to come over us. I sent him to his quarters, but I fear he’s not well at all. It’s doing him less good to be grounded than if they’d let him stay in space.
Say something I don’t know what. But tell him something to soothe him, remind him he’ll be flying again. I’ll keep an eye on him. I’ve told him everything is all right and to stay here for a bit, but I don’t know if he’ll listen.
Someday we’ll all be together in the stars and things will be better. Things are always better out there. And with you so far from me, I feel as though his rambling prophesies of the end times may be true. But I know its all just loneliness. Me for you, my love, him for his love of the stars. We shall all be all right in the end, I think. But don’t let me worry you, I am well. Just missing you. Missing life stuck in here each night. But morning comes early, I should sign off.
I send and then switch to the other feed. My son, a Project 10, was a couple of classes before this one, he’s doing his space training on the Ulysess several thousand miles above my head.
no new messages.
I hope he’s enjoying training, enough anyway. I tell him to talk to me, but I’m afraid he won’t tell me if something’s wrong because he’ll think he’ll sound weak because I’ve done it all already and so I won’t sympathize but I will and I’ve told him I will. I wanted to keep in contact with him after he was born. His father, whoever he was, didn’t. I think that hurt him since after all, it’s no good not to be wanted. I’ve visited him as often as I could while flying missions, and I’ve done my best to make sure he never really wanted for anything. but still. I’m afraid he’s lonely. Well, I’m lonely. He must be.
Hey kiddo, how are you hanging in there? I type, waiting for him to come online. He isn’t. He’s probably busy. I sent him a message this morning he hasn’t answered that either. But I know they work long days up there and he probably hasn’t had a moment to go back to his bunk. Poor thing. He’s bound to be tired. I never really wanted him to be a mechanic. He tested in for it, of course, but I never thought he was a good fit for the space forces. Whatever DNA said. He was too gentle, too quiet. Tony, talk to me if you’re feeling down okay? I know how rough it can be sometimes---it’s kind of rough down here too. Hopefully, after this class graduates, I can come up to the Ulysses and we can see each other more, huh? Get some rest
Just as I type it there is a knock on the door. I hadn’t actually planned on signing off I wanted to tell him something that would make him feel better. But I can’t think of anything on Kepler that will make him feel less alone out there when I feel so alone myself. I sit up, buttoning my blouse, “Come in.”
“Hey, I was gonna go and check on the little hooligans in the brig,” Ebbel leans in. We went through basic together, so there’s an affection there, however remote. He’s a rough, boorish sort, but not all bad, more bark than bite, and for some reason he’s always liked me. I think he had a sister who died though I’m not sure, but for some reason he generally holds an affection for me. “But I saw the list and thought I’d let you know, your Card is in there.”
“My Card? Cygnus’ flight leader?” I realize I have been very successfully putting him out of my mind.
“Yeah, Harris was ticked off with him earlier, I made some quip about putting him the brig didn’t actually think the idiot do it,” Ebbel says, leaning in the doorway, “Figured you’d want to know.”
“Yes,” I say, standing up, annoyed, “Why would Harris do that?”
“Card did something stupid being the arrogant little walking dictionary he is and pissed Harris off, 314 would have been enough but eh,” Ebbel shrugs, “You want to go and get him out?”
“Yes,” I said, trying my boots, “You---you are aware that that----child spent three weeks in a military prison after basic?”
“What?” Ebbel asks.
“Those morons thought he’d cheated on his final exams, his scores were so good. so they locked that poor boy up for nearly a month till they realized he was cleverer than them,” I say. anger floods my mind. I can’t help but think of how I would feel if Tony were locked up in there for a single night, let alone twenty-one. Titus reminded me of him, small for his age same dark hair---he was a child. They were children they weren’t soldiers let alone criminals. It was okay---training them. waking them up early, giving them a bit of a hard time---I got it, all that it was molding them. but they weren’t criminals. They were kids. Kids who needed warm beds and meals and books and blankets and a window---and everything those prison cells didn’t have. I personally refused to put cadets there unless they were criminally violent. It was a jail cell. This wasn’t a game.
“Huh, no wonder he’s got such a bad attitude,” Ebbel says, nodding, “I would be too if they’d done that to me.”
“Yes, and he hardly needs to spend another night in there, we’re working them hard they need a good nights sleep,” I say, standing, “He’s fifteen---just turned sixteen years old most kids his age are at home with a warm dinner watching a tablet with his mum---not marching for sixteen hours then lying on a metal bunk without even a blanket.”
“Hey, hey, I agree with you, that’s why I came to tell you,” Ebbel says, holding up his hands, “Let’s go find Harris.”
“Yes, let’s,” I growl.
Chapter 5
I lock the door to my room behind me, forcefully. Finally those blasted security rounds are done and I have a moment of peace. I unbutton my blouse, sighing and turning around to look at the closed door. Locked, closed, I’ve been so on edge of late. mostly because I’m semi-retarded. that’s a true statement, if I were not semi-retarded I would not be in this situation. I turn on my tablet. No new messages. I’m disappointed which is profoundly stupid because there is no reason I would have any considering I haven’t sent any. I sink down on my bunk, holding the tablet and accessing the conversation with my daughter. Her last three messages, all of which I left unanswered.
I made it to OCS checking in.
All is good here we get our tablets every night to write home just wanted to let you know. They said families could come to graduation I can send you the information if you wanted. If you’re busy I understand.
No, no I’m not busy, sweetheart. I scroll down and look at the picture she sent. In her student’s uniform, a hat on, hair pulled back from her face, a sweet, shy smile, and deep pale eyes that don’t smile, guarded, lonely, grown-up eyes. I should have answered her. it was ridiculous. of course she would think I’d forgotten about her. but I’m afraid. what if they’re monitoring the outgoing messages? Whoever in God’s name ‘they’ are. What if they saw? What if they’d already seen? I’d be court-martialed on the spot.
The day before training started, they asked all of us, knowing we might be involved in Project 10 if we had been contacted by any children. and those of who’d participated had to sign off on a form, saying we hadn’t been contacted. It would be a breach of ethics for us to participate in this training class if we had family members in it. we would be temporary reassigned.
But being a brain-damaged moron, I lied.
I said she hadn’t chosen to contact me. when she had. I wasn’t going to. I’d planned on telling the truth, and then just coming to her graduation like you were supposed to. but when it got down to it, I couldn’t. I didn’t want to wait for weeks to see her. I wanted to see he
r the next day. more than that, I wanted to protect her. I couldn’t before, not until now, and she’d reached out, she’d been brave enough to trust me. to reach out and hope that I cared about her, this selfish, miserable excuse for a human being that had sold her into this.
So I couldn’t abandon her. when all it took, just a tick of a box, and I got to be here, right here, with her, watching over her every day, making sure none of the others yelled at her too harshly, making sure she never ended up in the brig. Nothing like that. not for her.
In my defense, well there’s very little in my defense but the one thing that is there is I’d hoped I had a son. A boy would be all right with all this foolishness. Boys liked things like flying and space and marching around it was good for them. not a girl. A precious little girl who should be protected. She needed me, she needed me to teach her how men should treat her, to protect her, to make sure nobody ever tried to hurt her. it was scientifically proven women develop less muscle mass than men, meaning, they can’t defend themselves as well, meaning they need special care. And I’m the one who’s supposed to take care of her. forget all this equality nonsense. Girls are sweet and gentle and need to be loved and cared for not shouted at and shoved about.
But now I am afraid. if they find out what I’ve done I will be out for good, and probably serving time. and I’ll have abandoned her again. when I was younger and stupider than I am now, something that doesn’t seem possible given my current predicament but apparently it is, back then Project 10 seemed like a good idea. Well, not a good idea, but I’d needed the money. I had a high enough IQ to qualify, and the money, it was good money. I was sixteen years old, waiting for a class in Basic training to open, no job, two younger brothers, and my father was ill, my mother worked off her feet to support us. we could barely afford rent and my father was so ill bills were piling up.
I never told them where I got the money. I told them I’d gotten odd jobs, and I’d leave every day looking for work but rarely find it. and when I left used the rest of the money to pay rent for the next several months. I didn’t know that military members get free visitation with their 10s. If you participate while enlisted. Since I did beforehand, I wasn’t eligible. And my daughter was lost to me for the last sixteen years. Every year that’s haunted me. I think of her daily. I didn’t think I would. But it’s like she was a ghost to me. this child, out there, somewhere, existing, not knowing, who was, I would lie in bed at night wondering if it was crying or lonely or sick or hungry or what sort of toys they gave it and wishing I could just meet it. Just once. Just once I would pray just to know that it was all right. One two three years old does it know how to walk yet? Talk? How old are children when they learn to talk? The middle of the night I’d go, look stuff like that up, what sort of books did they read it? Did it get little toys, what sort? Four years old, five, six, seven, eight. Does it wonder who I am, yet? Why I’m not there? Has she asked about me? Ten, Twelve, thirteen, fourteen, does it have a boyfriend, girlfriend? Does it like science, numbers, counting like me? Is it angry with me for not being there? Fifteen, one year to go is it waiting too? But on her sixteenth birthday, bless her, that sweet child, she wrote to me. Shy, sweet. She’d said she was my daughter and asked if I still wanted to know who she was. yes, dear god yes sweet one. And so I met the only family I have.
My father is long since dead, my mother died two years ago. I never told my brothers, and that never mattered because one of them died on the North Rim not long after my mother died. the other brother, I’ve not spoken to in years, he’s gotten arrested several times, I really don’t know what became of him. I haven’t heard from him since my mother’s funeral, which I arranged. Granted I’ll probably see him in prison when this is all out so you know there is that.
I sigh and run my fingers over my daughter’s image. A family. we have each other now. I’m not going to let you go. I promise silently. I have a flat in the Capital. It has a room set up, a tablet, a video screen, a bed, dresser, pillows, everything I thought a sixteen year old would want. I got the flat years ago, and started setting up the spare room. waiting, waiting for the day my child could come home. The flat, everything in it’s for her. It’s hers whenever she wants to go home there, for as long as she likes. She doesn’t have to stay enlisted if she doesn’t want to, she can live there and go to University after this commitment is done. Whatever she wants, I’ll help her do. that’s what I’m here for.
At least I’ve gotten to see her. even if it is at the peril of my own career and livelihood. I’ve seen her. she’s well. she’s tall like me. she does well here, Ebbel made her flight commander. I wish I were in charge of her flight, but I’m a moron, so I probably would just stare at her and be obvious or worse creepy and they’d all know and court-martial me but God, they probably will anyway.
“HARRIS,” I bang on his door, tiredly. I really wish I were in bed by now. if the cadets weren’t enough trouble put together, I have to manage the MTIs as well.
“Maybe he’s still doing his rounds,” Wilde says, pulling a string off the cuff of her blouse.
“He’s not, he’s an idiot, but he knows when lights out are, harris open up,” I yell, banging on the door again.
“Yes, sir?” he asks, opening the door, his eyes white with fear if I’m not much mistaken. He’s in his shirtsleeves and still has his boots on. no sign of a tablet laying out either, what’s he doing just sitting there staring at the wall drooling? Actually, that’s possible.
“Why’d you put Card in the brig?” I ask, leaning on the doorway and not bothering with customs and courtesies it’s too late and I’m far too tired.
he was staring at my daughter while they were in the food line, or the girl next to her I’m not positive but it was one of them and I know he doesn’t bunk far from them, and so I’ve been looking for an excuse to write him up or do something all day, and yes I know it’s completely irrational and this is why I shouldn’t even be here but here I am. but she’s my daughter and frankly he’s kind of creepy. Yeah I am not going to say that.
“Sir, he was----ah---insubordinate,” Harris stutters. And here I make jokes about him not being able to form complete sentences. It’s actually true.
“How so?” Wilde asks, folding her arms.
“Sir, he tried to talk me into taking his 314 instead of his flight’s it just got on my nerves, let him out if you like,” Harris stumbles, almost relieved, “It doesn’t matter---at all—just teaching him a lesson--- as you do.”
“They are just kids, and they’ve got a big day ahead,” I say, “Let’s let him out, eh?”
“And he’s my flight leader, tell me next time you do that,” Wilde says, annoyed.
“Yes sir, fine,” he hands me Card’s 314, “Sir, goes ahead, let him out, or I will.”
“No, I will, you’ve done enough---and get to sleep,” I say, turning around before he can close the door.
“That was odd,” Wilde says, following me down the hall back towards the entrance.
“He usually is, there’s something wrong with that one,” I say, rolling my eyes. I’ve had to work with him a few times, he’s always an idiot, not in a detrimental way, but in a more waste-of-valuable-oxygen sort of way.
This---this is why I am so not cut out for a life of crime I get too nervous. When I heard them knocking I was certain they’d found out my secret but in fact, it was nothing but that stupid Card. Nothing. nothing at all. Nothing to worry about nothing to do with me. they’ll never know. I take a deep breath. They’ll never know unless I give myself away which, apparently, I’m quite likely to do, since I nearly hyperventilated just opening the door for Ebbel. That idiot. If his voice weren’t so very loud I wouldn’t be so frightened of him. That’s why they hired him, I guess, his voice is so very loud. But I’m safe. Safe for now. even if Card is back in the barracks. It’s not like he’s actually dangerous.
If only Ebbel would do his rounds already what’s taking him so long? I got rid of those incompetents and now I
should have had plenty of time to do the deed and hide the body. but no. He’s late. an hour late by my count which isn’t usually wrong, I’ve been counting the seconds with an eighth of my brain usually it works very well, I see no reason why it would be off now but the conversation with the Tims may have thrown me off. but I doubt it. I don’t get thrown off not even when my imbecilic brothers would talk to me or try to ruin one of my perfectly good plans to aggrandize all of our incomes, I still didn’t get thrown off. not then so I highly doubt if it happened now. but where is Ebbel? Doesn’t he know I’ve set up a nice blind date with the devil for him? I laugh at my own dark humor. I might as well, nobody else makes me laugh I’m all alone here. at least I’m funny to me.
That makes me sad. I wish I had somebody who I could tell all of my supercilious plans to. It would be much more interesting if I had a coconspirator. But I don’t. I wonder if Tom would be? I doubt it. I’ve lived quite a long time now and I’m sure there aren’t so very many people like me. in fact I’m almost certain of it. I haven’t come across the one. And that makes me sad.
“Here, let’s check the cameras first,” Ebbel says, leading me into the control room.
“Why?” I ask. I don’t see why we don’t just get the kid out of there, let him go to bed, and go to bed ourselves. At the moment I felt worse for us than for Card, at least the boy was asleep, we had not even gotten out of our SBUs yet.
“Idle curiosity, I like to see what they’re up to,” Ebbel says, banging open the door, “Wake up, Kip.”
“Sir, I’m awake,” a very sleepy looking Spaceman first class sits up quickly.
“Whatever,” Ebbel says, going to stand in front of the monitors. “Where’s Card’s cell?”
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